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A lopsided smile forms on my lips. “It’s funny that you think you can, but no worries, I’m not here to stop you.”
Confusion mars his face. “Why are you here?”
“Seems we have the same goal,” I say.
“Look, I don’t know what you think this is, but I’m not going to stop.” He holds the knife under the man’s throat, who begins to sweat profusely. “This fucker has to die.”
“I agree,” I say.
The man raises a brow as he gazes at me with a befuddled look on his face. “You agree?”
I bend over and open my bag, showing him the contents. An assortment of weapons for every occasion and for every single one of my whims. I like the surprise element it brings to the game.
“O-kay.” He nods, rubbing his lips together. “Interesting.”
“Is that all you brought?” I ask, glaring at the knife.
“What else do I need?”
I shrug. “Whatever you like.”
He shakes his head, his lips curling up. “Nah … I prefer snuffing them out slowly.”
“Ahhh …” I mumble. “Like a fire that burns out.”
His eyes narrow as if he’s searching for clues.
“The burning car, outside,” I add. “That was your work?”
“Why? Is it important?”
“No,” I muse. “Just interesting. And a beautiful spectacle.”
“You think so?” There’s a smug smile on his face. “Thanks.”
He toys with the knife, flipping it in his hand, before stabbing his victim in the knee.
The squeal that follows is like music to my ears.
Too bad I wasn’t the one delivering the pain.
God, I want to jump in so badly, but this … this is something new and exciting. This man seems to love dishing out the pain just as much as I do, and it strikes my curiosity. I want to know more.
“So do you do this often?” I ask.
“What?” he asks.
“Killing people,” I say deadpan.
He takes a breath, his face darkening. “Sometimes,” he says, pulling the knife from the man’s leg. “Only when they deserve it.”
“So you know about the things he did,” I say.
“Of course … he’s a pig.” He slashes the man’s cheek, whose pants turn yellow from soiling himself. “He deserves nothing less.”
The man turns toward me and growls, “What do you want from him then?”
“The same as you … I want him in the ground,” I reply with an unmistakable vicious undertone. “But I like to see my victims in pain before they meet their end.”
He nods, licking his lips. “I prefer for them to burn … and anything that ever belonged to them.”
I grin. “Interesting,” I say, grabbing a knife from my bag. “What do you say we work together on this one? Would you mind?”
He arches his back and lowers the knife for a second. “Hmm … As a one-time thing?”
“Perhaps,” I say. “Or perhaps, this could be the start of something much more interesting.”
A smile slowly creeps onto his face, and he nods while replying, “Perhaps.”
“What’s your name?” I ask, amused.
“Brandon. Yours?”
I tilt my head back. “Call me Chase.”
As I approach the two men, whistling a tune, I can’t help but think this might be the start of something new. Something completely different.
Maybe these nights out won’t be so lonely anymore.
Even killers need someone to look out for them. And we seemed to be quite the matching pair.
Me with all my toys and passion for blood … and him with his desire to ignite fires under everything and anything he morally could.
Oh yes … we were going to be perfect together.
Accompanying Song: “Bottom Of The Deep Blue Sea” by Missio (Acoustic)
Syrena
Present
It literally takes me hours to unlock the door.
I thought the card would work, but he had modern locks.
But I refused to give up.
Instead, I grabbed whatever small metal implement I could find. In this case, I just ripped one of the curtains off and took the metal ring, which I bent out of shape by banging it on the kitchen countertop until it was a long thin strip.
I then poked through the keyhole long enough to make it click.
Honestly, I don’t even know how long it took, but the moment it sprung open, my energy zapped back in.
I immediately grab a coat, put it on, and open the door.
Only to bump right into him.
Fuck.
Did I take that long?
Or did he come home so quickly?
I stumble backward as he stands rigidly in the hallway, unmoving. My hands are shaking. I don’t know if I just got caught or not.
Did I really open the door or did he?
He steps forward, and I take a step back. I have nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. And before I know it, he’s got me back where he wants me. The door is closed and locked again. All that work was for nothing. My chance to escape has evaporated into thin air. My heart sinks into my shoes.
“You tried to run?”
I’m not even sure if he’s asking a question.
