Excerpt: Chances

The girl looked at him blankly for a moment, and slowly shook her head. “You're f*cked up, you know that? You just wanted a degenerate and degrade women because of what happened to you. Don't give me any of this cr*p about love.”
The transformation was grotesque. She watched his face change into that of a wild monster, eyes thick and watery and consumed with an eternal hunger, his mouth twisted into a warped and hideous grin, and she screamed, cried out before she could stop herself, before she even saw the knife.
Silver flashed in the corner of her eye and she knew. It felt as if she had been punched in the stomach, and it had exploded with the pressure. The breath was forced out of her, and she desperately tried to catch it, to bring vital air back into her lungs, but it was gone, and nothing but blood gurgled in her chest cavity.
He was suddenly on top of her, and she felt him grab her hair with one hand, but it didn't hurt, nothing hurt. Or maybe everything did. She was not sure, everything was hazy and unfocused, a blurry confused nightmare.
Then he pulled it out, and for the briefest moment she felt she may be okay, she may live. She tried to breath but before she could the knife was forced into her abdomen again, and a cross between a grunt and a cry escaped her.
The man pulled out the knife then thrust it back in, out, then in, then out, in, out, in, out. With each penetrating thrust he grunted, and even when the girl no longer reacted, when she lay limp and lifeless, he continued, going faster and faster, until with a final frenzied gasp he stopped.
He lay against her body, the knife still inside her, pressing his sweaty brow against her cool one. After several minutes he raised his head, and looked at her beautiful, peaceful face.
She looks just like her.
He had forgotten that. How at first she had reminded him of her, when she was young. He'd never seen her that young. Just the photos. Just the fantasies of her at that age...
Alexandria was the youngest one, barely eighteen. She had also lasted the longest of them all. That surprised him. He hated to think he was that shallow.
Shakily, adrenaline still coursing through his veins, he rolled from on top of her, pulling out the knife as he did. He led there for a moment before getting to his feet.
The man looked down at himself. Sweat spots formed under his arms, his clothes were soaked in blood, and there was a wet patch in his underwear.
A wave of panic swept over him. Oh God, what have I done? No, no! This is wrong, so wrong, oh God, what have I done? What's wrong with me?!
“I'm bad.”
Suddenly he began to weep, hot salty tears flooding down his face. He buried his face into his bloody hands, and sobbed into them. Unsatisfied with their comfort, he flung himself back on to the bed, and clung to Alexandria's limp corpse, holding her and weeping into her chest as a child would its mother.