What I felt in my hilt gripping hand fed my imagination and I could “See” the beveled sharp steel tearing in through the cartilage and muscles of her throat before cutting through her neck muscles and just missing her spine. The front end of the hilt was embedded in the welling up soft skin, the soft fat of her breast pushed aside by the force of the impact. Her throat was thick enough the 6 inch blade did not quite go all the way through. Penelope tried to inhale and instead started to drown on the flooding gush of her own blood, her eyes wide over my mouth covering hand. Her pale skin whitened further wherever it was not spattered with bright red blood. I pushed down towards her waist with the handle, the tilting blade likely cutting up through her diaphragm and into her lung. The katana point of the knife easily cut into her soft neck and drove through her windpipe with a small crunching noise followed by the thud of the heel of my hand against her neck.
