I leapt at Patterson's belly, and two handed bought the knife down, along the convexed plain of his stomach , through scant pubic hair and straight through the base of his erection, slicing flesh from flesh and giving free reign to the spurting arterial blood that fed his lust.
An appendix of pinkwhite flesh writhed briefly and withered on the floor as Patterson fell forward, screaming, his arms wildly alternating between grabbing at his agonized groin and waving uncontrollably.
My knife sliced upwards, groin to sternum. Twice.
I stagger to Chay.
And that's when I see the Mother Of Death.