Carl gripped his hand around her throat and squeezed, all intelligence in his eyes gone. He was a being of pure rage, completely overcome by hate. Blood streaming from his wound, he lifted her by the throat and dragged her, still squeezing, to the back room. Once there, he literally threw her against the far wall, then turned and slammed the door behind him, locking it with a thump.<br/><br/>"You like knives? Alright. Let's play!"<br/><br/>Retrieving the knife she'd used, he went back to the room and entered, shutting the door behind him. Sticking the knife in his belt, he walked to her, heedless of anything she might do or say, and gripped his hands on her shirt. In one great tug, he tore it off her, leaving her wearing only whatever she had been wearing under it.<br/><br/>Eyes glinting with malice, he pulled out the knife and bent over her.