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The Apartment #213

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Tracey looked down at the top of her little boy's head.
She didn't want to
but the pain was so intense
the serrated blade shimmered cold, his teeth tore a chunk of flesh at her stomach, her legs weakened
knife handle hard, recognised sounds of greedy slurping
its head tore flesh,
fallen to her knees, pain racked her body
Holding the handle of the carving knife in one hand, she raised it, blade upwards, into the air
Blow to the head. Make it unconscious. Make it - him -
stop.

And she hammered the handle forcefully down onto her little boys head.

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