Tom frowned at the girl before him on the bed. Her eyes stared up at the blankly ceiling. They were glassy now, but he knew they would soon fog over.

She wouldn't be screaming anymore. Pity. Tom grimaced. Tracing his fingers across the lacerations that laced across her pale skin; she had such beautiful skin. The blood had stopped oozing out of the wounds when her heart stopped. Sometimes his toys broke much too easily.

He ran his fingers through her hair, leaving bits of blood streaked through her curly carrot colored hair.

He had always been partial to redheads.