Some may say say this is disturbing, some say it's life.
He rang the doorbell and waited for a couple of minutes, when nothing happened he rang again. The door opened. A young woman with her hair wet, dripping, in a flowery bathrobe stood there: "Yes?" "Is this 304?" "No, this is 403". They stared at each other for a moment. He noticed that the flowery bathrobe slipped and opened a little but she didn't fix it. She noticed a big bulge at his crotch. Her voice, a little hoarse: "Wanna come in for coffee?" Words caught in his throat: "Sure, yeah". She pulled him inside and pushed him towards the bedroom pulling his t-shirt off. He was struggling out off his jeans. The flowery bathrobe fell onto the floor as they fell onto the bed. Their passion was almost violent, their pleasure was almost painful. Then they fell exhausted on the crumpled sheets. They lay there. Silent, sweating, panting.
After a few minutes he said: "I gotta go". "What?". "I gotta go". She was angry: "You ain't going nowhere!". He sat up: "I gotta go, you crazy?". "You ain't going nowhere and don't call me crazy". She jumped up and ran out. There was the noise of her bare feet on the floor getting fainter as she ran away and getting louder as she ran back. He was standing looking for his things when she flew at him with a large kitchen knife and slashed him across the throat. The blood gushed out in a pulsing stream, she must have hit a carotid artery. She kept shouting and slashing and stabbing furiously. He was stumbling and bumping into furniture and holding his throat, blood everywhere. A big vase crashed down loudly and broke. He fell to the floor thrashing around and making gurgling noises. After a while he stopped moving. She stood there. Silent, sweating, panting.
There was pounding at the door: "Police, open up!". She went and opened the door naked and covered in blood. The policemen saw the knife and shouted: "Drop the knife", "Drop the knife now". The knife clattered to the floor and one of them kicked it away. The other policeman followed the bloody foot prints to the bedroom. He shouted "Body". The policeman asked her: "Who is it?". She answered: "I don't know"
