Bellatrix killed a man today. He was 5 foot eight, cropped blonde hair. His eyes were blue. They were still blue when she pulled her dagger out of his chest and wiped the blood off on her white robes.
Most of the Death Eaters used the killing curse. Bellatrix did too, but only when she was rushed. Otherwise she took her time, stretching the suffering until her victim broke and died. This time was different though. This was about the sex.
The man was a sailor in the US Navy. He smacked Bellatrix's ass in a bar. She had sex with him. He got rough. She got rougher. While climaxing the point of the dagger impaled his chest. She had been using it to tease him. It only went in a little bit. But Bellatrix put her weight down until his heart was pierced. Every time he screamed her orgasm just got stronger. Blood covered the bed. Sweat and blood.
She left the body there and went home, picking up some Chinese take-out. Killing made her hungry.
Bellatrix killed a man today. He was 5 foot eight, cropped blonde hair. His eyes were blue. They were still blue when she pulled the dagger out of his chest and wiped the blood off on her white robes.
Now she's sitting on the couch, eating Chinese food, and putting his pictures in her photo album. One before, one after. The book was fat. It was filled with the photos of every man, woman, child, and animal she had killed. There were many.
Bellatrix put it back on the shelf. She took off her clothes, threw them in the fire, and slipped into bed. As she fell asleep she thought about the man she killed today.
His name was unknown. But she stilled killed him. Killed him with a dagger. His eyes were still blue when she pulled it out.
Tomorrow she would kill another man. He will be six foot, long black hair. His eyes will be brown. They will still be brown as she cuts him open smiling as his guts pour out over the plastic sheets she laid on the ground.
He will not have a name. The only name she knows is Jeremy. That was the name of the first one. That first kill. His picture is in her album.
He was five foot 11, medium length red hair. His eyes were green. They were red when she ripped them out with her fingers. She was eleven years old. He was eighteen. His name was Jeremy. He was her first.
Sleep. Sleep. Dreams. Dreams. Sleep. Sleep.
Bellatrix killed a man today. He was 5 foot eight, cropped blonde hair. His eyes were blue. They were still blue when she pulled the dagger out of his chest and wiped the blood off on her white robes.
It made her happy. Killing always did.