The noises of cluttering dishes and scuffing shoes fade into a background drone at the split in the two spaces. The space between life and death. It’s a path Sinn'ous travels often, the in-between. A space where he is standing among the souls on their way to death’s door. Souls he snatches from life to deliver to Satan’s domain.
A knife left abandoned by a chopping board beckons to him, a whisper by Satan Himself. And he accepts it as such—a gift from Satan. Chunks of onion cling to the dull blade, and he heeds them no mind. Its scratched blade fails to reflect light in the way he craves them to. His disdain over the weapon will be cured once blood runs over his hands.
Sinn'ous puncheshis arm out, hitting the door and shoving into the pantry, knife gripped in one hand and poised at the ready. He scans his surroundings, the cluttered shelves, scuffed floor, large bags and boxes containing food.
A barrel by the door is the perfect door jam, or it will be if he can move it. As it stands the thing is an awkward shape and has no handle to grip. All that’s left is for him to use his ass and hips to walk it backwards. He staves off his grunts at the weight behind it, manoeuvring the bulky item until it’s pressed up against the closed doors, preventing anyone from disturbing them.
The exit is blocked off. His sacrifice is trapped. It’s time to give Satan the gift he promised.
Hail Satan, I give you this sacrifice.
Levis is crouched in an aisle, rustling through bags. Prison shirt stretched over a bulking form. And completely unaware of the looming doom stepping in behind him.
This time there will be no drawn-out death. No beating the bush and playing in the blood that leaks out. There is no time. And no need.
Sinn'ous is here for one thing and one thing only.
To kill this sacrifice.
He is not here to play and he will not drag this out. He spends time with the sacrifices he wants. This is not one of those times. This kill is a necessity for a greater cause.
At the same time he grabs a tight hold of shorthair and yanks backwards, he slices the knife across the throat, splitting it open in one clean cut. And it does a lot more than nick the artery, it severs it and cuts into the larynx. Blood gushes. Spraying in multiple arches, it drenches the floor and any packaged food lucky enough to be in range. It’s a hose turned on full blast.
Standing behind Levis shields him from being sprayed, and the efficient slice meant his hand and the knife were left unblemished. He drops his hold, wipes the knife handle on his shirt, then drops that too.
All the while Levis writhes, face down in a gurgling puddle on the floor. Blood seeping around his head in an ever-growing pool.
Sinn'ous doesn’t stay to watch him die. In a single heartbeat he is back at the door, and throwing his weight into kicking over the barrel. Where it gives in and thuds heavily to the floor, lid popping off and spewing its contents of rice. He wrestles the door open a crack, enough of a gap to fit his body out when he sucks in his chest. It’s a tight squeeze but he manages it.
He beelines right out of the kitchen’s side door, making his way back to A-Wing. This kill will be found very quickly and he needs to be far away when it happens.
Weaving through the clusters of inmates scattered up the corridor he encounters no guards or pauses in his strides. His legs eat up the distance like Satan Himself blessed them.
He’s not even to his cell when his kill is punctuated by the heavysound of blasting alarms. The echo nudges over him and pushes him down the last expanse of corridor that spits him out into A-Wing.
There is no delay, he shoulder checks several inmates pushing his way to the stairs. Everyone is scurrying to their respective cells. He takes the stairs two at a time, shoving someone so hard they nearly go over the rails. He makes it to his Satanic cell on the far end.
An empty cell, a cluttered wall of deathly chaos. Satan’s presence in every cell of his being. His thighs lock and he lets his body slump, sitting his ass down on his bunk. His body is still pumping adrenaline, still screaming at him to kill.
It was over too fast. His mind is demanding he kill another. It needs its fix.
It’s a good thing the cell’s door clanks closed. Because he was right on the edge of snapping. At least now he is trapped and won’t make a mistake by slaughtering his way down the second-floor’s platform to the cell his prey is in.
22
SINN'OUS
The lunch bells mark the lifting of lockdown. It was a short lockdown considering how much blood was splattered all over.
Did they even wash it away? Or will they give the kitchen workersa mop and bucket and tell them to have at it.
The cafeteria is a hyper ball of energy, zapping all over and driving Sinn'ous to insanity. Small-minded people with nothing better to do then jump at a murder that isn’t even their own. It’s sad really, almost like living vicariously through someone else is all they can manage of their pathetic existences’. No accomplishments of their own, they have to treasure his kill.
He hadn’t planned on coming here, but his conscious mind and legs are on two separate channels. Separated by a vast sea of indifference, and a swirling riptide of pride. Pride in the sacrifice and the need to share it with the one it is meant for.
Levis dared to try to take what belongs to Sinn'ous. So he made sure the problem was solved.
Jasper Marcelo is mine to kill.
