Vice did not want to kill the child. It’s just that the stubborn bastard would not let go, and Vice was prepared to do anything to get it back. The cursed knife, given by his sadistic Master, ruled his thoughts; enraging him – maddening him.

Both hands tightened around Toshiro’s small neck and squeezed. Vice’s lips twitched into a lopsided smile as the little thief choked under his grip. The knife would be his again. He pressed harder. The boy would die.

He saw Toshiro swing the knife but he did not let go to dodge. The knife – his knife – entered his shoulder. Warm blood rolled down his arm and onto the ground. For a moment, the knife shone with white light.

There was no time to wonder what the light meant. With unfocused eyes, Toshiro took the knife out and blindly stabbed again.

This time, the blade went through Vice’s neck. He tasted the metal and blood.

As he gasped, air escaped from the wound in his neck. He knew he would die.

The knife shone brighter and Vice felt life drain from him. It absorbed the albino-white of his skin, making him feel . . . (wrong) . . . human.

Vice knew he would die. And he knew, this time, he would not come back.

Suddenly afraid, he grabbed the boy, the only company in his death and fell forward. Toshiro cried over him, maybe even for him, and Vice liked him a little for that. On the floor, his hair fell upon his face and he could see it was now a light blonde. The knife had stolen the white from that too.

The world began to darken. Time was short. Vice had something to say and he had no choice but to hope Toshiro would forgive him and relay the message – the apology – to the right person.

But it did not matter in the end. His last words came out as bloody gurgles which may not have been heard over Toshiro’s sobs and apologies. It’s not fair, he thought.

Just before the darkness took him, Vice realised he did not want the knife or blood. He craved nothing. The knife’s curse was broken.

END