I waited outside the window for what seemed like hours, but was surely less than twenty minutes. I was keyed up, hyper and nervous with expectation. This was a good kind of nervous. It heightened my senses to the point where I could hear the small click-swish of his window as it slid upward. At this sound, I stood smoothly and followed him as he stealthily snuck away from his house.

He was going to watch the moon, something I usually did sitting on my roof and listening to music. For some strange reason, it disturbed me that he watched the same moon as I did. Well, this was going to be the last full moon he ever saw.

He sat in the grass, leaning back against a big rock covered in graffiti. The night smelled dark and evil, and the whole woods felt frozen in anticipation of the viewing of the moon. For a second my resolve was almost weakened by the vision of his silhouette against the full, ripe moon, but then he shifted position slightly and the moment was broken. My resolve returned to me, and I embraced it like an old friend. I had planned too much to let anything get in the way of his death.

I moved and stood next to him , but his concentration on the moon was so intense that he didn’t even see me. I spoke his name and he turned to the sound of my voice. Before he could even react I brought my hand out from my side and stabbed him with such force that my arm ached all through the next week. There was a moment of resistance then flesh and cloth gave way to the yielding soft tissues under his skin.

Blood flowed, an amazing amount, and I could see him look up at me in shock. The wound was nowhere near fatal, but it was definitely painful. I knew I had to kill him, and quickly, before he spoke. I knew that the sound of his voice would destroy my resolve forever. Nothing with a voice like that could deserve to die. I couldn’t bring myself to just slit his throat. It seemed such a pointlessly stupid end to a vivid life. Instead I stabbed him again in the chest, slightly higher, then again...and again....and again. The steel of the knife blade glinted in the light of the moon, and the blood on it glistened like that of fresh roadkill.

The whole thing took less than a minute, but again it felt like hours. The blood was already turning tacky and sticky in the cool night air. It covered the grass in a rough circle and picked up the shiny glint from the moons watery light.

He lay convulsing in a pool of his own blood; this is an image that would thrill me in my dreams for years in the future. Now was the time to end his life, before someone came to the sound of his screams. He couldn’t scream loud, and every time he did, fresh blood gushed out of his mouth from the hole in his right lung. There was still a chance that someone would hear him and although he was now beyond saving, I wanted to be sure. I wasn’t worried about getting caught because once he was dead I could live the rest of my life in a cell, content with the knowledge that his bloodless body was rotting in the ground.

I grabbed his hair, now soaked with blood, and used it to pull his head back, exposing the deliciously bloody skin of his neck. It was amazing how much blood had spilled from him out of his 6 or 7 stab wounds. I knelt down next to him and bent over his dying body, bringing the knives sharp edge against his neck. I pulled across quickly, splitting the skin easily and pushing the knife deeper into him as it slid across the neck.

I leaned further over and licked at the blood that was gushing from his jugular vein. I bit into him, pulling back his skin from the cut with my teeth. His blood filled my mouth with a taste like old pennies. I could taste his fear and the last essence of his life as it slipped away. I drank that mouthful down and proceeded to drink the blood that poured out of him as if it was on tap.

His body jerked one more time and lay still, the blood flow slowing to a trickle. He was dead at last. My hand moved to close his eyes, then I thought better of it. It seemed somehow right to leave his bloody corpse there with the moon he loved so much reflected in his dead eyes.