her jaw he then continues the spin by pulling her shoulder towards him. Surprised that she now has her back towards him she then finds an arm around her throat. Her airways closing in the crook of his elbow as his bicep contracts and squeezes tightly. He closes his eyes, he takes no pleasure in this.

This was somebody’s granny, or at least used to be.

It only takes a few seconds for her to drift into a slumber and fall limp, as if asleep in his arms, and he decides not to finish her off. He was trained to kill, enjoyed it as an art, loved it almost, but he wasn’t a complete psychopath. He wasn’t a sadist.

I don’t really hate all people, well… mostly. But I do hate this infection, this brain