Closing the door behind him, Brian shuts his eyes, locking the door and pressing his forehead hard against the wooden frame. What did he just do? He tries to breath, but the thought of it alone is overwhelming. Gasping, he coughs, pushing his hair back in his hands before staggering away from the door and leaning against the wall. How could he have done what he done? Brian slowly slides down to the floor, bringing his knees to his chest as he relives every moment. Would he ever be the same? “Okay,” he said with a half smile, “Maybe we don’t need this chair.” He quickly untied her waist from the chair, pulled her up and quickly pushed her onto the bed. “Now, let’s try this again.” Her eyes were filled with terror as she tried to back away from him. Unfortunately, being tied made it difficult. She muffled high pitched cries under her gag and tears immediately began to surface, sliding down her face. “Stop,” Brian tried to reason, though he knew he was asking the unreasonable. “Just let me do what I have to do,” I mean, really, why couldn’t she just be grateful that he wasn’t killing her? She shook her head so hard that Brian was sure she’d give herself whiplash. Brian grabbed her by the back of the hair, speaking sternly, “If you don’t stop moving and crying, I might hit something fatal, now fuckin’ stop.” That did it. Lilly simply stared at him, her face completely void of emotion. And then he did it. Taking the blade, he inhaled deeply and stabbed her upper arm. Lilly’s entire body shook as she fell backwards, writhing in pain and crying under the restraint. Brian tried to ignore it, he tried to detach himself, but her muffled shrieks became louder, reminding him of some sort of injured animal. He couldn’t stand it. Picking up the gun, he smacked her hard on the side of her head with it: knocking her out instantly. Jumping onto his feet, Brian races to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet. The thick, burning liquid skidded through his esophagus and slammed hard into the toilet bowl. “Fuck…” he moans, retching more bile. Closing his eyes, he tries hard to forget the image of Lilly’s unconscious, pregnant, and tied body lying on the bed: vulnerable and bleeding. “This is for your own good,” he muttered, hoping she didn’t suddenly miscarry in front of him. He knew that would make him utterly snap. “Think of Justin,” he reminds himself quietly. Putting the gun away, he reclaimed his knife and looked back at Lilly. Where to start? What he needed to do was make enough superficial wounds to make this crime scene look like a bloodbath. Taking another deep breath, he stabbed her shoulder blade, and then her other arm before stopping to examine the wounds. The blood was quickly soaking through her shirt. Rolling her to one side, Brian pressed her wounded shoulder into the comforter. She moans, her eyes still closed, but a frown evident on her face. “Fuck,” He groans, he needed to work fast. Sliding her skirt up, he studied her pale thigh and knews that this was the money load. Come on, Kinney. You can do this. Swallowing the bile that nearly hit his throat, Brian shook his head, “For Justin,” he whispered again. Flushing the toilet, Brian washes his face, staring down at the water sliding down the drain. It reminds him of blood. She hissed in pain, her eyes opening momentarily before closing once again. Brian looked up, pausing as the blade continued to press deep against Lilly’s thigh, the blood dripping down the side of her leg, saturating the comforter and more reaching the carpet. Turning on the shower head, Brian steps inside; not even bothering to remove his clothing. Falling onto his knees, he rubs his face in his hands, willing his body to stop shaking as more memories flood his mind. Swallowing hard, Brian knelt in front of her and slowly opened her legs. He knew this was the perfect place to cut. Blinking slowly, he grazed his glove-covered finger tips against her inner thigh, wondering if these scars he was giving her would ever heal. Her pulse was strong against his hand and he tries to remember where the femoral artery would be: wanting to avoid it. Taking the bloody knife in his hand, he took another deep breath before letting the tip of the blade push against her flesh, making a small puncture wound. He continued the journey cutting down toward her knee. The blood spilled out quickly, flowing all over her skin and down to the carpet. Brian quickly grabbed the pillow from the bed and pressed it against the wound, holding it for several seconds in hopes to slow down the blood loss. Her eyes fluttered and a soft moan could be heard. Brian stood up and tossed the bloody pillow over the bed, watching it tumble to the other side. “You’ll live,” he said absently, watching her fingers twitch before succumbing to the unconscious world yet again. As he scanned the blood splattered room, Brian’s mind was straddled between impressed and disgusted. Thomas’ blood reached the walls and doors, and Lilly’s blood remained focused on the bed. He could only imagine what the papers would write about their ‘murder.’ In the shower stall, Brian covers his mouth with his bare hand, stifling his own screams. What the hell did he become?