The cell felt like it was closing in on him, the dark
concrete walls staring at him with their blank faces. Voices talking,
Whispering, chiding. He hugged his legs close to his chest and rocked backwards
and forwards. The ghosts of his old life danced before his eyes. It brought
back memories, memories that were best left buried inside the dark recesses of
his deluded mind…

The blood ran slowly down the wicked blade. He had been
staring at it for some time now, and the crimson liquid was starting to congeal
on the once-bright steel. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, back through his
arteries and into his rapidly beating heart. She had screamed, oh how she had
screamed. He had silenced her with relish.

He crouched down beside the twisted form that had been his
wife. He examined the wounds he had happily inflicted upon her. Thirteen stabs
straight to the neck, an unlucky number for some, but in his mind, quite the
opposite. The amount of blood that had poured out of her mangled neck had been
incredible. His mind reeled with the realisation that he had actually killed
someone. And he had enjoyed it.

Hands quivering he stood and snapped his head back. He
laughed. He laughed because no longer would he endure her snide comments, her
frequent threats and her endless drinking. He stopped laughing abruptly and
looked down in disgust at the woman who used to be his wife. He spat on the
corpse and stalked away, back into the inner city.

He walked purposefully through the dark streets. People
backed away from the shadowy, blood-stained figure that held a knife in his
hand, and a mad glint in his eye. He burst into an information centre and a few
minutes later, the police station received a call from an extremely distressed
woman claiming to have seen a man saturated in blood asking for directions.

Blue and red flashing light’s reached his eyes and he
grinned. The police cars screeched to a halt in front of him and four of the
cities law enforcers jumped out with guns raised.
“Drop the weapon!” yelled one. The knife clattered to the pavement. “Get on the floor
with your hands behind your head!” The blood-soaked man leered at the police
and began laughing. He slowly dropped to his knees and then his stomach, all
the while laughing a crazy, maniacal laugh.

And so here he sat in the corner of his cold, dark cell. His
neck twitched, his head snapping back. His eyes rolled. It all became too much.
He brought his filthy wrist to his mouth and bit down hard. Blood welled in the
vicious marks and began falling to the floor. Quickly taking as much as he
could in his hand, he daubed on the wall his last message to the world. He then
lay down on the cold floor, and waited for deaths sweet embrace. He stared up
at the bright red message as his vision dimmed.

“IT WAS WORTH IT”.