Free Sin Eater by C.D. Breadner

He’d been clean when he went to bed, and now … God, this wasn’t his blood. Where did it come from?
    He rolled off the sofa he slept on, struggling to his feet. The sun was at a low angle coming through his window, so it was late afternoon. He’d slept all day … but when had he gone to bed? He couldn’t remember.
    He shuffled in to his tiny, filthy bathroom, and pulled the shower curtain back. Before he could turn the taps on, he shrieked like a woman and backed up against the far wall, hitting his elbow on the open door.
    A body was lying in the shower, slumped up against the inside corners, her blonde hair matted with dried blood. Her short skirt was pushed up so he could see her one butt cheek, and her shirt was ripped down the front. He could see bite marks on her shoulder, her arm, her breast …
    Fuck. He’d done this to her. He had to look away.
    He saw his own face crumple in the mirror over the sink. Why couldn’t he remember this? How did he even get her here? Where’d he find her?
    He took his panic out in to the living/kitchen/bedroom, pacing around the few items of furniture he had. Shit, oh shit. He was in so much trouble. And that’s when he noticed the huge pool of blood on the floor.
    Relax.
    He stopped, hands still shaking, but closing his eyes to concentrate on that voice that could always chill him right out.
    Remember? You needed her, I let you have her.
    He closed his eyes and jammed his thumbs into the inside corners, pushing until it hurt. It took attention away from the throbbing at his temples.
    No, no ... he couldn’t have done that. Who was she? He didn’t even know her.
    Just some woman. She was coming out of a bar, remember? She had a broken heel on her shoe, and she bent over to take them both off so she could walk better. You wanted her immediately.
    He hadn’t wanted her dead, surely?
    You tried to kiss her. She shrunk away. She was scared of you.
    Well that wouldn’t be weird. Women never liked him.
    It made you angry. She laughed at you.
    Then the memories jolted back to him like a nightmare of lightning. Her face as she took him in upon seeing him at first. Him clumsily trying to kiss her. She jerked back, and it made him jump. When she saw she’d startled him, she actually laughed.
    Yeah, he remembered that. Her sneer. That’s when he noticed she had lipstick on her teeth, which were sort of yellow. And her skin was bad. But her hair was nice. He had punched her right then. Her nose has given way under his fist, and her head snapped back. She wobbled back into the alley behind her, stumbling on bare feet as blood gushed down her chin. She had been totally startled. He would have laughed, but the sight of the blood infuriated him first. It was her own fucking fault, the whole thing.
    A few more shots to the face and she was out like a light. He carried her up to his apartment without anyone seeing them, using alleys and the fire escape of his building. Well, hopefully no one saw him. Actually, it would be a miracle no one saw him.
    She came around while he was hefting her through the window. She hit the floor of the living room, and that’s when she came to, crying. Since her nose was crushed breathing was proving to be difficult for her. She sputtered and was gasping as she wept.
    But at least she was awake. It gave him strength when she fought him. He held a hand over her mouth to cover the screams, although in this building screaming of many different kinds were par for the course. As long as she was squirming he was aroused, and the longer she fought the more he liked it. She fought until she was exhausted, and that’s when he fucked her, on the floor, half unconscious. Likely from blood loss, or maybe she was concussed. He’d beat her head against the floor a few times, so who knew what had knocked her out.
    As usual, there was no orgasm for him. His erection withered, unfulfilled, and he was furious at his own impotence. So he strangled her with his belt, then