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Numbers, he was happy with numbers, one had to get into great depth beforethey confused but they still behaved predictably. Clarissa remained gawkingat the TV, encased in a world of her own. 'You gormless slut.' He hissed. No response. He went over to the kitchenetteand putting his glass down on the counter, opened the cutlery draw. Everythingwas in its place and so to hand which was how he liked things to be. Takingout the carving knife he felt the blade. Like a razor he thought. He creptacross the room until he was square behind Clarissa. Holding the knife in twohands he held it aloft before bringing it down on Clarissa. The knife glancedoff her head as his knuckles hit her crown, knocking her forward onto the floorbefore it ended up stuck in the couch. Immediately he jumped over the couchand landed on Clarissa's back, thrusting the knife into her. There was notso much as a squeal, all she could manage was a little fart sound. A strangemixture of carbolic and stale breath filled. When at last she found a website that looked promising, and called the number she found there, it had been disconnected. Although she assumed it would be in vain she sent a short email telling of her plight. That night she received a detailed tutorial in response. She studied it thoroughly. She would obtain some chemicals from a professor she knew. The professor was studying the effects on the human mind of certain odors and biological chemicals, and Katie knew he had a crush on her. The next day, Saturday, she took the train and paid Drew a visit. As she walked to his door wearing Drew’s favorite skirt, a thin white blouse and no underwear, she quickly used a bottle of eye droplets so that she was crying when he answered the door. When Drew saw her tears, instead of brushing her off, he rushed to comfort her. He immediately inhaled the sweet smell of baked goods, and other less innocuous substances that made him feel comfortable and safe. She half-smiled and half-grimaced, as if she.
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