[ CW ] write a story from the point of view of a serial killers favorite knife .

The bath was my favorite part. I enjoyed the careful rub of the cloth across my stainless blade. He loved me and I loved him. I did n't always get to be the instrument of his bloodlust, but, when I was, it was special. For both of us. But now, it was my time. He looked at me as the water glistened off of my blade, my rosewood handle fit seamlessly into his hand. His hand felt right. It felt as though I was made for his large hands. 
 
 He took me up from the water, the blood running down into the disposal, and dried me with the careful attention of a lover. He lifted me into the light and turned me back and forth, enjoying the glint of the light that I presented. I knew the next part would be more intimate. The sharpening. His loving hands gliding my blade across the whetstone. Back and forth. A little water, then back and forth again. It made me feel electric. 
 
 Once this was over, he slid me gently into the well worn leather scabbard. I would wait. For the next time. When he needed me. And we would be one.
