Inanimate Insanity Knife X Suitcase Novels & Stories

again. I slam the suitcase shut and head for the door, when I remember my most important possession: my knife, who I affectionately call Borden. It was the knife I used to kill my first thirteen victims before T.H.E.M. recruited me—and several of the plush stuffies after said recruitment—and is without a doubt the closest thing I have to any sort of sentimental attachment. I return to my bed and reach under the mattress to my trusted knife’s hiding place.

Fury was increasing with each moment as she was approaching Susanna. Jenny was carrying a silver blade inside her clothes that she was hiding smartly. Susanna's sharp gaze met her blazing eyes. Susanna's lips curved up in a sly smile and she mouthed, "Your baby is dead, now it's your turn." Mouthing that she moved her finger across her throat gesturing to her that she will kill her. Jenny was already out of her mind in rage and when Susanna threatened her it provoked her to insanity to the edge. She just lost her sanity and moved forward after pulling the silver blade out from her dress and in the blink of an eye she stabbed her heart with the silver blade.

“Take note of the lever on the side of the handle. Squeeze the lever and slide the handle into the blade.” Evan and Francis followed Chris’s instructions and connected the blade and hilt. “To release the blade, do that same thing. Squeeze the lever and the blade will fall out. Onto the next thing. If things take a turn for the worse, we must be prepared for combat. These suits have a thick outer layer that cannot be cut easily with the swords. However, if the suits are the same across all the bunkers, then we have a way to defeat them. On the back of the neck there are two hoses. If cut, the wearer will lose their oxygen supply and the inner mechanics of the suit will wear away. Needless to

She'd need one much bigger. He wrapped the knife and tore open the nightstand drawer, rummaging through its contents. Suppressants. A scarf. A vibrator. His dick jerked again, the explicit image of her in bed, auburn hair fanned out over the pillow, the silicone toy sandwiched between her legs. Focus. He pushed the image away, opening the bottom drawer. In a black case inside, he found it.

He lay there, semi-conscious, moaning softly, his body a map of catastrophic failure. Sabatine stood over him, breathing heavily, his left arm dripping a steady patter of blood onto the broken glass. The knife turn was complete. Kaine had struck with his last, desperate weapon, and Sabatine had absorbed the blow and turned it into the final, shattering counter. He looked down at his arm. The cut was deep, ugly. He’d need stitches. A lot of them. But it was a clean wound. It would heal. He bent, wincing as his leg protested, and picked up Kaine’s stiletto from the floor. He looked at the fine, deadly blade, then at the broken man weeping in a pile of glass.

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.

I froze when I spotted the first sliver of an out I’d seen since he blasted into my life that day. On the table sat his gun with the silencer still attached, along with a knife. It looked military, much larger than the average pocket knife, with the blade and handle being one piece. The tip curved up into a sharp point. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. That piece of metal could free me. The gun I could fuck up with, plus I didn’t even know if it was still loaded with as many shots as he got off, but a knife? Anything goes.

After excusing himself to quickly throw some clothes on, Dylan headed back to where Enzo stood by his desk, waiting for him while impatiently tinkering with the small metal parts that he noticed were idly placed on the table moments ago. The drawer remained open. He frowned and risked taking one of the knives out of the drawer, carefully as to not make even the slightest contact with the silver. He wrapped his fingers around the leather handle and inspected the weapon up close. He wanted to flip the knife around and weigh it out on his hand but was too nervous to do so. The scar on his chest tingled as if it was reliving the pain that he suffered from.

‘It is time to find the Trident. *** ‘Wow, is that a real dagger?’ Lucas said reaching into the liberated metal box. The knife had a black leather-bound handle and a tapered silver blade. Again there was a Swastika embossed into the handle. ‘No doubt about it,’ Albert said smacking Lucas’ hand away. ‘And you don’t know how safe it is.’ ‘It’s a knife with an accursed sign on it, Albert,’ Maud said wryly. ‘It isn’t ever goin’ to be anythin’ other than dangerous.’

Julia felt its stare on her back when she turned away. A toolbox under the bench. She skidded to her knees. Flicked the latches. The snap echoed through the room. It’s okay—just keep moving. The box held nails, a small ratchet, a couple of loose ball bearings, and a can of WD-40 spray grease. Next to it, there was an X-Acto utility knife. She picked it up and thumbed the blade. It rose from its shallow casing with a rusty squeak. Yeah—now this was something they could use. She pocketed the knife, a giddy laugh escaping her, yet another victory in the face of madness. I’m doing it, I really am.This is going to work. Julia spun on her heel to face the opposite side of the shed. Stopped.