White Tiles

Blood drips on a tile floor. Remnants from a fresh kill. It's easy to pick up a person, invite him back to your motel room for some action that will never occur. The only action is the snuffing out of his pathetic life. This person has no idea that I know him completely. This victim is totally readable. His mind is an open book to me. I know his darkest thoughts. If I didn't pick him up first, he would have raped and killed someone else. Then he would have slept liked a baby lying in their blood. Instead, he will breathe his last breath and understand what type of monster he was to this world. Right before I send him to nothingness.