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“You killed him!” The blonde stepped back from the women with the axe, her eyes were wide open with horror at what she was witnessing.
“Almost.” The brunette held a long handle axe in her right hand as she lifted her left arm and wiped the sweat off her brow onto the fabric covering her left forearm. This humidity is a bitch.
“He’s bleeding!”
Like I need hysterics now. But that was her sister for you. Always worried about mere details. “Yes, now get out of my way.” Her sister scrambled backwards, sliding on the blood covering the floor. “I have to whack him again.” She lifted the axe high and smashed it down into the man’s head. Blood spurted, bones cracked and the sickening squelch of bursting brain filled the air. Her arms ached like the devil but whining was not going to help get the job done. She lifted up the axe and smacked it down once more. Blood and gore flew everywhere. She was pleased she was wearing her usual gothic black. It was businesslike and rarely showed bloody stains if washed correctly.
“F**k!” her sister screamed and rammed her back against a nearby wall as if it was somehow going to anchor her to reality. “Stop it! He’s dead, for God sakes!”
“Nah, his head has to come off and I have to split his heart open.” The axe came down once more. “And there is no God. These bastards roaming the streets prove that.”
“I don’t know who you are anymore!”
She turned to her sister. “Hey, I never asked you to come and visit in Cairns.” Whack!
“Mum thought it’d be nice if we bonded—Oh jeez! The head’s come off! I’m going to puke.”
“So, go and vomit outside.” She aimed the axe at the chest cavity. At that moment the grotesquely bloodied and hacked man looked up at her, his severed head no longer attached to his body.
“Bloody hell! His eyes opened! How is that even possible?” the blonde shrieked.
The brunette rolled her eyes. “Stop screaming! I don’t have time for hysterics.” She had a job to do. Normally there was never an audience around when she did it. Explaining things to people wasted time and frankly was a pain in the ass because they never understood and always kept asking ‘why?’
Whack! Whack! Whack! The final blow cleaved his heart in two. His eyes closed and blood spurted out like a fountain from his chest. Her sister projectile vomited onto her shoes. “Damn it! I just cleaned those!” It was hard to work when civilians were about. They always whined, questioned and threw up.

Fiction & Literature
November 13
Scarlet Harlot Publishing
Smashwords, Inc.

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