“I’m going to kill you,” he said to the frightened child.  His voice was cold and uncaring, and as cruel as the smile on his face. Deranged eyes with dilated pupils crinkled at the edges as he watched the little boy shudder in fear. A sick happiness spread through him, and as he twirled the pocket knife in his hand, the man sighed.
“I’m going to kill you,” the man whispered again, wondering if his words would evoke more of the boy’s thrilling terror. “I’m going to kill you, I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you.”
He lunged forward, a wild laugh in his throat as the knife came down, repeatedly, over and over again. Blood was everywhere; streaks of it across the white walls and the beige carpet. The afternoon sun shone through the red-splattered glass, the crimson rays landing on the mutilated corpse of a twelve-year-old boy, and his heavily-breathing murderer.