Author's note: This is not pretty. This is not nice. This is Montparnasse. Rated mostly for disturbance factor...could probably do with a lower rating (I'm terrible at those things), but better to give a higher rating than scar someone for life. Enjoy. Reviews are always nice!

There is something so satisfying in making someone bleed. Being able to plunge your knife in or twist it slowly. Making blood flow freely from a wound or to trickle out. Choosing whether to injure or kill. I love that power; it is what I live for. I love the satisfaction of a job well done.

My mother was frightened of me. I liked to kill as a child. Rats, dogs, cats. My mother did not understand; she did not see that each cut was carefully planned to produce a work of art. She threw me out onto the streets, but I did not care. There were rats and cats and dogs on the street too.

The first time I killed another person, I had not planned to do so. It was messy and grotesque. I yearned to do it again, to do a better job. I planned carefully, and my second kill was much more satisfying than the first.

Plunge, twist, stab, kill. I was addicted.

I took their money and dressed myself in fine clothes, but I did it for the blood, for that moment when their eyes glazed and the blood began to flow.

I cannot abide blood on my own clothes.

I used to cut Eponine, before the bitch got herself killed. Strip her and slash her and watch the red, red blood run over her pale body. Her bony back, her thin legs, her small breasts. Slice her nipples and suck the blood out. I really loved her then, when her face was afraid and her body glowing from the touch of my knife. I would take her then, kissing the blood off her lips, spreading her legs and fucking her on a dirty bed.. The first time was beautiful; afterwards the bed was covered with lines of blood and the tell-tale flower of red that did not come from my knife.

Eponine got herself killed, but Paris is still full of bitches like her. Whores and children and young men and old. As long as blood is flowing through their bodies, I love them all.

Plunge, twist, stab, kill, take, take, take.

Let me hurt, let me kill, let me drink my fill of blood, and I will be happy.

Plunge, twist, stab, kill, bleed.

Tomorrow it could be you.