It was the first time I had ever killed a man.

It was also the first time I didn’t faint at the sight of blood, as it soaked my hand and the knife I held in it. When getting blood drawn or seeing droplets coming out of paper cuts, I always cringed and felt the need to make my way to a bathroom. This time, I smiled.

The smile on my face grew as I stared down at his pale, lifeless body. I knelt next to him and inhaled deeply. It smelled of iron. Lethal. Thrilling. I dipped my fingers in the puddle forming around him, tasting it with joy. I looked around at his gorgeous, modernist, black and white home. It was boring and plain but still gorgeous. Now, it had just a touch of color. I’m an interior designer.

Old movies often used red-dyed syrup as blood but I can tell you right now, this blood was sweeter than any syrup. This was the blood of a wealthy man, his bounties making his blood even more rich to taste, like a fine chocolate truffle that you want to savor on every tastebud. I walked to the man’s fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. I let my fingers gently graze the granite countertop as I walked to the cupboard full of crystal glass. I poured out a glass for myself, and walked back over to the man.

“For one moment, I played God,” I slumped against the wall, facing him and raising my glass. “It felt fucking good. Thank you for being my first time.” I chugged the bittersweet juice and pitched the glass at the man’s head. It missed, landing instead on the tile, and shattered. Hunks of crystal flew. A sizable piece, one that was very sharp, slid across the floor toward me. It wasn’t time for me to stop playing.

I crawled on my hands and knees through the shards of crystal and grabbed the beckoning piece, then made my way to the man’s body. My knees and palms had been cut open at this point but I was numb to the pain. I unbuttoned the man’s shirt and started drawing patterns in his chest with my shard of crystal. I dug it into the center of his chest and slid it down into his abdomen. I cut so that there were skin flaps available for me to open and look inside. I am always curious about these kinds of things. I set the shard down, ignoring the huge cut that would certainly need stitches.

I started pulling out his innards and cutting them when I needed. They were slimy and pink, their warmth was fading. Everyone always said the smell inside a human body would be disgusting. My stomach growled and I salivated at the thought of tasting this man. You only live once, right? And he certainly wasn’t going to need any part of himself anytime soon. I looked at the clock. It was nearing 5 p.m. I didn’t know if he had any family but I assumed he was a bachelor, living by himself in the Malibu hills. Either way, I was starting to get uncomfortable so I wanted to hurry.

The pans were easy to find and the stove was easy to heat. I breathed a sigh of relief and dropped the organs on the counter with a sickening plop. It was music to my ears. Since I’m not an idiot and know the dangers of eating raw meat, I wanted to make sure it was cooked thoroughly. I tossed some spices on him and started frying him in some olive oil. It wasn’t until I sat down at the table and had a few delicious, mouthwatering, appetizing bites that I heard keys jingle outside. Fuck. I was sitting at their dining room table and I didn’t know if I was about to meet a quarterback who could take me down in a moment or a tiny little housewife. Fuck.

I could see her shadow through the window. Not small but muscular. She would be tasty, albeit a bit gamey. I sat up straight, drenched in my own blood, and picked out a few sharp pieces of glass from my knees, attempting to look presentable. I smiled. The door opened and I could see what this woman did for a living. Judging from the badge on her chest, she was not about to have dinner with me. I tried to run, hopping off of the dining chair, but slipped on the puddle of blood, landing face first in it. I heard profanities and a gun unholster. Knowing what was about to happen, I started lapping up blood with my tongue like a measly dog. I could feel the glass sticking to it as I licked at the floor, praying that this last meal be blessed to my body and begging for forgiveness as the weapon went off right behind my head.