Billy Loomis Knife Novels & Stories

he said picking up his toolbox, where he kept his weapons of terror. He knew I had a 9 MM handgun holstered at my side, we, in the Special–Ops, all did. Yet, he wanted me to use his stupid MO; The Butcher knife. Tim, clueless about the words I and the Butcher were exchanging, leaned his head against the ragged wall, sobbing, possibly reminiscing on all his experiences with Margot.

I guess it comes in different forms. The pocketknife in Sally’s purse was an old Swiss Army issue, the kind with can openers and corkscrews and nail scissors attached. She still has it. We call it Freddy, like from the movies. The blades are notched so tight together if you try to pull one out and don’t do it tough, it’ll snap back and slice a finger before it locks straight. It’s possible Sally thought about taking the knife out, that night in the motel. Thought about risking a little blood. And it’s possible the thought got her contemplating carnage.

Willow called time after time in her heart. Only now did she realize how fragile she was. Her tears blended into the raindrops that streamed down her face. Billy stood in front of Willow, holding a knife. He disregarded the bad weather completely as revenge was the only thing on his mind! "Your husband destroyed my family and made me impotent, you bitch! I must kill you both to quench the hatred in my heart!" Billy said, almost deranged. He slashed Willow's arm with the knife. "Ah!" Willow yelped in pain. Blood streamed from the wound on her arm without pause.

No one noticed Mom leaving except me. She went first to find Billy the Bully. "Hey, Billy. Come over here. You hit Willow before, didn't you? I'm here to reward you!" Billy the Bully lit up at that and ran over without hesitation. The next second, the knife was lodged straight into his chest. Blood splattered across Mom's face. "Billy!" Mama Bully screamed, rushing toward them. "You crazy bitch! I'm going to kill you!"

’ Billy spoke quickly even before I could finish my sentence. ‘Yes I didn’t use it. I used their own knives, on both of them.’ ‘Okay, tell me about the part where you killed Sharon.’

I turned to look at Billy again and he grinned. “Just come quiet, Hope,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you. You’re worth more to me intact.” He grinned again, showing me a hunting knife he was holding. I recognized it. I had been cut with it on more than one occasion before.

Billy said. And Olivia couldn't refuse it, she took the lingerie from Billy's hand and took it to the bathroom, then Billy came out of the room, he intended to finish what Olivia started in the kitchen. Not long after, when Billy was busy chopping vegetables, Olivia suddenly called out to him, making Billy raise his head and Billy was stunned. He put the knife on the cutting board with his eyes locked looking at Olivia who was standing not far from him. Maybe his spit was heard running down his throat violently at that moment.

It was packed with all kinds of knives. Small paring blades with wicked curves. Longer serrated ones for sawing. Thin filleting knives that could split skin like paper. A heavy cleaver at the end, more for weight than precision. “What… what are you gonna do with those?”He asked. I pulled on the black nitrile gloves. “You Stupid piece of horse sh!t,” I said, almost conversationally. “You should know too well by now. Billie isn’t to be touched. Isn’t to be taken. Not by anyone other than us.”