**How was she still alive?**"Why... won't... I... die?" the words echoed in Lisa's mind, though she could not voice them. Her body, her broken, mutilated body, seemed to cling to life with a desperation that made no sense. Every moment was agony. Every breath felt like fire scorching her lungs. The pain was all-consuming, a physical presence that blotted out everything else.But her mind was still there, trapped inside this hellish prison of flesh and bone. She could still think, still feel, and that was worse than death. She wanted to die. She needed to die. Anything to escape the torment he was inflicting on her.The man—**the monster**—seemed to sense it. He could see that she was close to the edge, teetering on the brink of death, and that only made him more excited. His breathing had grown heavier, faster, like a predator in the midst of a hunt. He wasn't just killing her. He was savoring every moment of her suffering, drawing it out as long as possible.Life was unfair, Lisa realized. Cruel. It was light, it was dark, it was fleeting, and it was endless all at once. People always fought to live, no matter how much pain they were in. It was instinct. The will to survive. But sometimes, **it was the pain that made people want to die.**Pain.That was what made life unbearable. Not the sadness, not the fear, but the pain. The never-ending, unrelenting pain.And now, the pain had reached its peak.He stepped back, admiring his work, the grotesque masterpiece he had created out of her broken body. Lisa's consciousness was slipping, and she could feel it, like a light dimming inside her. She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold on, and she didn't want to.He seemed to realize that the game was coming to an end. The fun was over. The thrill had faded. He glanced down at her, his face still painted with that same twisted smile, but now it was tinged with boredom. The excitement was gone. She was no longer a plaything, just a shell of the woman he had once held in his arms.Then, as if on cue, the distant whistle of a train sounded in the air.Lisa's heart skipped a beat. She recognized that sound. **It was the train—their train.** The one they had planned to take, the one that was supposed to whisk them away from all of this. But instead, it was coming to take her somewhere else entirely.He bent down, close to her ear, his breath cold against her bloodied skin. "It's time," he whispered, his voice low and soft. There was no love in it, only malice.Then, with one swift motion, he pushed her.Lisa felt her body lift from the ground, weightless for a moment, as if she were floating. The world spun around her, and for a brief second, she thought she could hear his laughter. She saw the outline of his lips moving but couldn't hear the words over the roaring wind. But she knew what he had said."Surprise."Time slowed as she fell. She could feel the cold air rushing past her, the distant rumble of the train growing louder with each passing second. It was strange, the sensation of falling. There was no more pain now, only a surreal detachment. As if she were watching it all happen from a distance.The train's roar filled her ears, deafening, but oddly comforting. There was no escape now, no turning back. In these final moments, the pain was gone. All she felt was the weightlessness, the cold metal tracks rushing up to meet her.She wasn't satisfied with her life, but in death, there was peace. She welcomed it. The warmth of death enveloped her, like a comforting blanket, shielding her from the horrors she had endured. The last thing she felt was the impact.The train struck her body with brutal force, tearing through what remained of her broken frame. Her bloody remains scattered across the tracks, painting the ground in crimson streaks. The force of the collision ripped her apart, her body disintegrating on impact.Gasps and horrified screams erupted from the crowd at the station. People ran toward the tracks, their faces pale with shock as they took in the gruesome scene before them. Blood splattered everywhere, soaking the ground, the walls, even the onlookers. Some turned away, unable to stomach the sight. Others stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief.Up above, on the red metal bridge, he watched. He watched the crowd gather, watched the chaos unfold, and felt nothing but satisfaction. This was his art, his masterpiece. The blood was like a canvas, and Lisa had been his paint.This was his 40th kill. He had perfected his technique over time, each kill more elaborate, more satisfying than the last. But this one—this one had been special. Personal. He knew he should leave. The police would arrive soon, and though he was confident they wouldn't find him, it was always better to stay one step ahead. But he couldn't tear himself away just yet. The blood, the carnage—it was too mesmerizing to ignore. He leaned against the railing, his eyes scanning the station below. The red metal bridge cast long shadows over the tracks, the crowd ran to her, some in a sense of helping her, most in a sense of enjoying the chaos. They are Human After All Sometimes all they want to witness is blood and nothing else.After all they call themselves human. A species that deserves pain, hunger and desire.He walked away while rumbling "I am The Ghost Psychopath"