And:
You Do Not Intervene
It did mean more of a mess to clean up after, but you were content to sit back and watch this time - as you often were - the one kill the other. Something about it was, quite truthfully, arousing in a very feral, very base way. Your favorite rod-stunner, the one with the hand-carved mahogany grip rested comfortingly on the end table next to your chair as you took another puff of your Sicar and set it down on the ashtray.
The one that had knocked the other prone shrieked and stepped over it proceeding to fiercely kick it in its head. Over. And over. And over. The prone one was beaten into unconsciousness after the third or fourth ruthless stomp, but the dominant one continued again and again, screaming and growling like an animal the whole while.
You rubbed your hands around the erect bulge that had developed in your pants, tugging at it slightly and watched, eyes fixed on this newest macabre scene unfolding before you. The air around thick and smokey in a rich, pleasing way from the exhaust fumes of the nearby, still burning Sicar.
The one continued to repeatedly kick the other, apparently intent on reducing its head into nothing more than a gorey, blood soaked pulp of broken bone and squashed brain tissue.
Some minutes passed, you continuing to tug and massage at your crotch as the one continued yet to stomp and kick at the other - its strength fading with the prolonged exertion of bashing another beings skull into a complete paste.
And then, just like snapping your fingers it stopped, freezing in place. It stared down at the other, posture sagging and slinking - released it seemed from the rage that had gripped its mind in a solidarity of purpose only a moment before. It fell down onto its knees, sobbing and weeping.
You stood and walked over to stand behind it.
It reached out slowly to touch the now dead one, the one that it had just killed, but withdrew each time. It was crying uncontrollably. Tears cascading from its eyes as it screamed and shrieked loudly. A remorseful, mourning wail.
You knelt down and cradled the sobbing creatures head in your arms, your mind suddenly afire with an almost guilty pity for the suffering that it was experiencing now.
A sharp twist broke its neck swiftly.
Rotating its head about, you brushed the hair out of its eyes and regarded them a long moment. Such beautiful eyes. So deep. So honest. So, so… pure. Even when staring back at you lifelessly, cradled here in your arms amidst a brutal, bloody scene like this one.
You had always loved her and only her.