Methuselah's Daughter, Part 4 Chapter 37
J.A. Eddy
Dawn was breaking and I was making my way to the fish market—our brothel had its own kitchen and we could bring in quite a morning crowd, turning a decent profit from selling fish cakes and bread, let alone our other common wares. The morning was delightfully cool. There had been a rain during the night and the air was clean, delicious on the tongue. I was feeling rather content; something that had been so very rare the past years, so when I was interrupted it made me more predisposed to strike out. He was a young man, who recognized me from a party some time ago, and I did try to politely put him off, but he was insistent. He thus sealed his own fate.
I led him into an alleyway, to some empty stables for a quick dalliance and I took his life almost as an afterthought. As I did so I nearly felt… regret. He struggled on the ground, weakening by the second as he hissed and burbled. I had struck his own knife deep into his throat, cutting his voice box for good measure. Leaning back against the wall I watched silently as he died.
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Man. I forgot how much I liked this chapter.
Of course we all lose our tempers now and then. Dean freely admits to being imperfect in this regard, which is why regulars to this establishment will generally be cut more slack than people who we don't know very well.
Still: behave like an adult, or go find somewhere else to play. Thanks.