Jacob's Plan

Jacob lay quietly beneath the blanket, his eye on Christine. The sleek, cold blade against his thigh made him shiver. In his act, he had dropped his breath to a shallow heave, his eyelids low; a bit of drool escaped from his lips.

Christine moved across the room, slipped out of her blouse, and tossed it on the bed. Her long brown locks fell down her back as she removed the pins from her hair. She'd seen him in the chair and knew her husband had let Jacob in again. Christine shook her head. Thomas was always taking Jacob out of the clinic. Jacob would call, seemingly fine, and convince his brother he was okay again. Thomas always gave in. Christine sighed, looking at Jacob. At least he was asleep.

Jacob watched as a lone strand of ebony string skipped across the center of Christine's brassiere. As if she could feel his gaze, Christine tossed her head over her shoulder and scanned his features. "Jacob, are you awake?" She hurried to the bed and grabbed her blouse, pressed it against her chest.
"Jacob?" Christine crept over to the chair, where her brother-in-law was slumped, blanket up to his cheeks. He looked doped, the way he was drooling. Christine kept one tight hand over her chest and reached out to tap his shoulder...

Jacob withdrew the knife. He pulled so sharply, the knife slit the cotton of the blanket. Little flakes of fabric floated down like a shredded cloud. Jacob lifted the knife.
He was out of the blanket in seconds.
Christine tried to run, but he grabbed her. She squealed. Jacob plunged the knife into her side.
Christine released a strangled breath, then collapsed.
Jacob wiped his knife on the blanket and strode out of the room.

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