Hmm… so what should I do next? Should I cut out his tongue, or should I simply cut through his rib cage and grab his heart? Decisions, decisions, I just don’t know what to do. Let’s try and deprive that heart, I really want to see what it looks like. I want to feel it within my hands; to see if it is the one.

Suddenly the shimmering silver blade started to touch the immobile carcass of flesh that lay before it. Slowly, gently the cutting began. It started from the lower abdomen, all the way up to the breast bone. Trickles of blood began to form around the edge of the remains only growing redder and thicker than the last cut. Kyle then took his hands and began to peel back the skin until the muscle and inner tissue could be seen from within. He then took the knife and began cutting even deeper than before. Faster, more swiftly he cut until he practically could feel the tip of the knife touching the spine. Kyle then took his hands and ripped the rib cage open exposing all that lay within the carcass, until he found what he was searching for.

It was warm and soft and tiny within his hands. It was not what he suspected at all, he wanted it to be cold like his own soul. He wanted it to squirt blood every time he squeezed it; he wanted it to move, but nothing. Nothing happened. It was not the heart he was looking for. He decided to take the remains of the frog and throw them away.
After he was done with his deed, he sat down on his bed to think. Think about what he had just done. He knew when his mom got home, that she would yell at him like always, not for the hundreds of frogs that would lay waiting in the trashcan behind the garage, but at him. She would yell at him like always, yelling over how he never had any emotions towards what he did, yelling at him for not having a “heart.” That is what she would tell him. That he had no “heart”, and it disgusted him.
Finally he went up towards the mirror. He gazed at himself, the expression he had on his face. He looked into the eyes of the image that stood in front of him. The eyes seemed to mock him. They seemed to be different, as if they weren’t his eyes, but someone else’s. He put his hand over his heart, hearing every beat that it made. He then picked up the knife off the cutting board and held it up to his reflection. With a grin, he started swinging the knife around and pressing it against his chest. He could feel the prick of the knife through his shirt, but he didn’t care. The Reflection began to just smile at him and nod its head back and forth. It was begging him to make the next move. Kyle then took off his shirt holding the knife in his hand still staring at the Reflection as if it had some sort of mesmerizing powers over him. Then he heard the two words that would determine his fate. Do it.