Homework 4: "As stated before, many murder victims know their killers. A great deal of these are individuals who are murdered by their significant others. For this assignment, you will be assigned a clone who believes you are her husband. She also has been conditioned to believe that she has been unfaithful to you. You, out of anger, kill her. Keep the kill consistent with this type of murder. You will be graded on efficiency and real-world similarity."

I fold the clone information up and put it in my pocket and follow the direction to the address to "our home." It is a small apartment on the fifth floor of a nondescript apartment building downtown. I let myself in with my key. The apartment in quiet and dark. I still have an hour until she gets here, so I take the time to learn the layout of the place. There is a main living room with a kitchen that is open at the back. Off to the side are the doors to the bedroom and a bathroom. I grab a glass of water and a knife from the kitchen, take a seat on the sofa, and wait.

Right on time, the handle to the door turns and in walks the girl. She greets me with a pleasant smile and engages me in small talk about my day as she removes her shoes and coat. She has a well-shaped body with wide hips and large breasts. She wears a loose, light pink shirt with a white camisole underneath and ripped jeans.

She walks into the bedroom and I follow after her. She takes off her shirt and tank top and tosses them into the dirty clothes hamper then resumes talking. I can sense a tension in her voice as she tells me about her day, and I can tell she is obviously trying very hard to keep something from me. I almost laugh out loud at the way she tries to add filler details to make her story believable. As entertaining as watching her fumble through a made up story is, I also want to get the assignment over with, so I pull out the knife and when she turns back around her words trail off.

I see the confusion on her face as I grab her by the back of the neck and thrust the blade into her chest. Her lips trembling, she stares up at me in shock.

"You know what this is for." I tell her.

Her eyes widen and her questioning stare shifts to an expression of pleading and sorrow. She opens her mouth to say something, perhaps an apology, but all that comes out is a low gurgle and a stream of blood. I pull the knife out of her chest and push her back onto the bed. Her legs hang off the side, and her toes barely brush the ground. Her hands come to rest on her chest where blood gushed from the punter wound.

I cut open her jeans and panties, exposing her smooth, shaven vulva. I feel it with my fingers first. It's sticky and wet. Then, I take the knife and let the sharp steel slide into the soft, fleshy slit. Blood trickles out as it cuts into the sensitive tissue. She whimpers as I push it deeper with more force. Following a random urge, I kiss her breasts and abdomen. Her skin is soft, and I can feel her abdominal muscles tense and quiver as I drive the knife in and out. I let it slice and tear deep into her body. Bright crimson blood pours out from between her legs. Finally, pressing down with one hand on her pubic bone, I force the knife as far in as possible with the other, until only the black handle is visible protruding from between her disfigured labium.

I take her head in both hands and look her in her pale blue eyes. Her life is fading fast, but she clings to what remains with all her strength. Short, ragged gasps come through her pale lips. My hands move down around her thin neck and squeeze. The cartilage of her throat bends and cracks, and her breaths are cut off. She squirms for a moment, and then her eyes loose their light and her body goes limp.

I brush away a tear as it rolls down her cheek and trace her cool lips with my fingertips. Then, I wrap the body in a thin sheet from the bed, drag her into the kitchen and force her into the fridge after removing a couple shelves, and leave.