They say no matter how many times you kill a person the nostalgia stays with you forever. You remember their faces and how they died.
The faces of the people who I killed never left my sight. I saw them in my dreams even on day light, how they screamed for their lives, how they begged me to spear them and the last moment I would walk in my kitchen with blood all over my shirt.
My very first kill was a hooker named Stella. Well, it's actually a story I never like telling people but Stella was a beauty. She was Latin with curly brown hairs which smelled like lavenders with a mix of roses.
Stella had a big ass and sweet neck, I used to lick her neck and she would say I tickled her. At just twenty years old, during that time she and I were the same age. However, we were in different statuses.
