the sharp whizzing of a knife as it slices the air, moved too quickly for the naked eye to see, a glint of light against the steel. a light, faint hint of a puncturing sound- the softest imaginable pop- as it makes its way past layers of fabric and enters flesh.

you can see me in that glint of light. a knowing glance, but only for a second, a nod that no one would believe happened. a smug grin tugging at the edges of my mouth. you see it, but no one else does.

over and over, until the blade is slicked with blood, and each withdrawal sends it spraying backward, until it’s plunged right back in. the noise gets louder, more wet and pulpy, the more times it reenters.

you can hear me in that sound. a sound that grows more cacophonous, more disturbing, as the suffering increases. i will never let you forget it. i will never let you forget what you did to me. you hear it, but no one else does.

the victim will sound different depending on where they were first struck. try to avoid the lungs; the wheezes as they collapse are annoying to listen to, if you ask me. the throat gurgles but is generally, mostly, quiet, if you do it quickly enough and they don’t choke.

you can find me in that decision. as if consideration or trivialities like that could ever make violence beautiful; but maybe it could be, if you tried hard enough. never giving up even when it would be for the best. i will never let you walk away. you remember it, but no one else does.

depending on how much they have bled out, the amount of air still left in their lungs, shock, and other minor factors, the way the victim falls will vary too. maybe they’ll stagger forward, trying to get a hit on you in self-defense, before the whole body lurches forward, limp and disjointed. if they stop and wait too long, or pull the blade out, it’s more likely that they’ll fall backwards. 

you can find me in that fall, no matter how it looks. the indecisive nature, not knowing how to save yourself, only to be met with no other choice as you collapse into oblivion. being met with the pain of inactivity when either choice, no matter how troubled, would have been better than this; and everyone, not just you, remembers your failures.

you can find me, if you just look and listen hard enough. i never went away. you just have to want to find me, that’s all; do not fault me for having hidden myself so completely and thoroughly in the face of all this. i could not bear it any longer; i needed to retreat, but you can still find me, if you need me. you know what to do to find me if you still need me, and like a beaten dog that still always finds its way to the hellhole it is forced to know as home, i will come.