The hand that reached around from behind pressed the sharp chill of a blade beneath her jaw. At the time, she must have tried to scream, but wasn't even granted a chance to do so. The sound of bubbles gurgling forth from the wound in her throat, a gaping, horizontal tear, could be heard. It was the sound of arterial blood flooding her severed trachea and being expelled along with air.
I still can't believe it. Why...?
The incident had come so out of the blue that she must not have even had the time to comprehend just what was going on. The expression upon her face, mouth agape, was more akin to shock than anguish.
The woman pitched forwards and collapsed to the ground, turned black by water from the cold, incessant midnight rain. Rust-coloured liquid flowed across the surface of the asphalt along with the rainwater. A dark stain began to seep through her bright-hued blouse. She managed to raise her outstretched arm a little, as if crying out for help, but it immediately plopped back down upon the ground. The woman was already a lifeless shell. The pool of blood surrounding her quickly began to spread outwards.
The man stood within the pool of dark red water, staring intently at her back. His gaze was fixed upon the red fluid that was her life's blood oozing from the woman's face-down body. In his right hand, mostly concealed by the sleeve of his raincoat, he gripped a small, sharp blade. The red film that had been covering the blade was washed away by the continuing rain, and was already heavily diluted. He slowly raised his arm and looked down at its point, restored to its silver glint.
"The messiah isn't coming..." the man murmured, an absentminded expression on his face. Finally, he shifted the blade from one hand to the other, and began to set about his usual "ritual" with careful movements.