I Am a Fallen Angel

Prologue: A Cool Wind

I approached him with a knife in my hand. The pale moonlight glistened off the, recently sharpened, blade, not that it mattered at the time. In a few moments that knife would be tainted, and the blood would be on my hands. Good thing I wore gloves. There was a rusty dumpster to my left, where I would dump the body afterwards. The air smelled of old leftovers from a restaurant around the corner, the same restaurant I followed this man from. Hopefully the disgusting scent of overcooked burgers and undercooked fish would mask the smell of rotting flesh. Despite the putrid aroma of the alleyway, my breathing was surprisingly calm. I found this quite odd, considering I've never murdered someone before, or at least not on purpose. I could not say the same for my target.

I had cornered him in the darkest alleyway I could find; behind an old burger joint that makes just enough money to keep the front sidewalk lit. It was sheer luck that this man, the man whom I have been charged with hunting down and killing, was one of the few customers that actually ate there. It was a simple matter of waiting for him inside. There was one chef and one waitress, neither of whom took notice of me. I doubt the place could afford any sort of security measures. As soon he finished eating, and buying an entire bottle of Vodka, the man got up and paid his bill. I had already left the establishment and was waiting around the corner. After many weeks of observing him, I knew what he was going to do. Perhaps I knew, even before he did.

He would make another left into the alleyway to smoke a cigarette and down a bottle of Vodka. He did this every Monday and Friday of every week. What he did during the rest of the week was irrelevant, although Wednesday's did involve him stalking a young boy around town. I could see the look in his eyes, every time he would stare at him. He would lick his lips and mutter things like, 'Don't you want to come back to my place?' and 'Hold still while I penetrate your tight virgin pucker,' Now, I would make sure he could never hurt that boy, or anyone else, ever again. I gripped the knife in my hand even harder.

The man was cowering in a corner, pathetic. He goes around doing all of these…things and he can't even face me. I should sodomize him with this knife and see how he feels! No…then I'm no better than he is. I want my revenge, but I won't go that far. I was raised better than that. I'll take his life, but I won't take his innocence, or whatever's left of it. I'll make this quick and I'll leave no trace. I'm wearing a one piece, jet black disposable jumpsuit. I'll burn it as soon as I'm done.

The man looked up from his fetal position, "P-Please, I'm sorry!" He cried, tears running down his cheeks. "I can't control myself!" If I hadn't known what he was capable of, I might have actually felt sorry for the guy. Not sorry enough to let him live, but still…"Oh God, please forgive me for my sins. Oh Father thou art in heaven, please allow me-"

"Stop," I muttered. "It won't help you, nothing will. It's too late to apologize, far too late." I raised my knife above my head and his eyes widened enough to pop out of his eyes sockets. I looked at him; his bright blue eyes were blood shot from his sobbing; his blonde hair thinning in the front and his beer belly sticking out half an inch from under his concert-exclusive Justin Bieber t-shirt. He disgusted me, and I almost rethought my sodomizing idea. Suddenly, he let out a gagging sound as his head jerked back and forth. I saw the bottle of Vodka still lay in his hand. I quickly wrapped my free hand around his neck and squeezed tighter than I ever thought I could. I could feel some of the vomit pass up though his esophagus. His cheeks puckered as his regurgitation filled the cavities of his entire mouth. I threw the knife behind my back and used my other hand to tip the man's head upward. I effectively kept his throw-up trapped in the back of his throat...

I clenched my teeth, "Die you fucking bastard, die!" I could still hear him gagging, as he choked on his own vomit. I had one hand clenching his throat and another holding his jaw up, I held him there for a while. I held him there even after he stopped breathing. After a few minutes, I stepped back and watched some excess bile drip out of the man's mouth. My breathing was labored, my pulse was racing, and my blood was boiling. This is what it feels like to kill someone. I managed to let out a small chuckle, in-between my heavy breathing. I didn't even have to lug the body into the dumpster. Things had worked out better than I originally thought they would. I had finished what I set out to do, take my revenge.

Name: Austerlitz, Alvin
Age: 40
DOB: 21 March 1970
Cause of Death: Suffocation (Accidental) - Unintended asphyxiation due to lack of oxygen. Windpipe blocked due to excess vomit.

Happy fucking birthday, or at least that's what the coroner's report will say. I doubt that the body will be found any time soon, as if anyone would miss him. As I stare down at his cold lifeless form I think of the countless lives I have saved. As I turn away, I think of the lives I have not.

A cool wind blew that night and I knew why. I, Kyle Broflovski, have killed a man with my bare hands…with the help of some cheap liquor. I am not sure whether or not I'm proud of myself, but I know someone is. I turn my face against the wind and head home. Before I reach the end of the alleyway, however, I see someone hiding around the corner. I sigh a heavy sigh and squeeze my eyes shut.

Looks like I'll be filling that dumpster after all.