“Nina, are you even listening to me? We can’t stay here whilst this freak is on the loose?”
“Huh? What do you mean we can’t stay here?” I question, feeling frustrated at his comment. This is my fucking home, I ain’t leaving here for no one.
Alex plants his hands on his hips, a tell tale sign that he’s frustrated with me. “We’re not safe here babe, there’s literally a raging killer slaughtering people on Christmas Eve.” He tries to push his point across but I refuse to leave. Why should I?
I move to place the bag of candy back on the table and throw the blanket off of my legs before standing to face Alex who looks like he’s about to throw up from the panic alone. Lifting my hand, I take him in my grasp and weave our fingers together, the tender touch seems to calm him a little.
“We’re not going anywhere. Besides, The Angelmaker only does one kill, once a year and as shitty as it sounds, he’s already done his one kill.” I gesture towards the ongoing news report, my eyes flicking between the screen and Alex’s face who still doesn’t seem so sure about what I’m saying.
“But-”
To silence him, I plant a soft kiss on his lips and he fallswillingly into my touch, our tongues slowly dancing together. He throws the remote onto the couch before winding his arms around my waist, pulling me into his embrace. I want to pull away, to tell him to leave because I know about all the shit he’s been doing behind my back but I can’t fault how nice his arms feel around my body, how wanted I feel in this moment.
I’m stupid for allowing him to continue but I can’t bring myself to stop, instead I lift my arms and place them onto his shoulders, feeling the muscles flexing under my touch. A soft moan slips past my lips and settles into his mouth as he runs his fingers underneath the waistband of my shorts, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. The kiss quickly goes from being soft and tender to animalistic in a matter of moments, our tongues battle for dominance as our teeth clash together, both of us eager to crawl inside one another.
Alex pulls his mouth away from mine with a heavy breath and begins to plant hot kisses down the expanse of my neck, gently nipping and sucking at the tender flesh. It’s enough to make me moan but I want more, more pain, more darkness, not this half ass light that Alex brings.
I’m eager to feel the hands of someone whose caused chaos and pain, to watch my blood bloom under their fingers as they fuck me into delirium. Someone like The Angelmaker.. The toxic thought has me snapping back into reality.
“What’s wrong babe?” Alex murmurs against my skin and I shake my head, trying to shun the vivid thoughts. “Nothing, nothing at all.” I whisper and he takes that as a signal to continue his attack on my neck that’s now red raw from the stubble on his chin.
“Let’s take this upstairs, it’s been ages since you’ve let me touch you and I’m not wasting this opportunity.” He speaks with a half ass dominant tone in his voice and instead of fighting off his advances, I agree and allow him to take me upstairs with TheAngelmaker heavy on my mind.
The icy wind whips against my bare face, the cold chill biting straight into my bones as I scour the quiet neighbourhood for the next perfect victim. I’m pushing the boat out tonight by doing two kills. I usually stick to one every year, but this year I’m in a giving mood, and it just so happens that I enjoy bringing the gift of death to unwilling participants.
Soft specks of snow begin to fall from the sky, landing gently on my heated skin then quickly melting into my pores. Soon after leaving Frank and Nancy, I ripped the mask away from my face and inhaled the freezing cold air, filling my lungs with much needed oxygen. Even now as I walk the silent streets, I inhale deeply whilst brushing my black hair away from my face, feeling the strands speckled with blood and body matter. The urge to scrub my skin clean is almost enough to derail my second kill but my body is pulsing with unfinished need and adrenaline. I’ve never needed to do a second kill, but something feels different this year, something magnetic that I can’t explain pulls me to an unknown destination, feet moving on their own accord.
I wasn’t always this way, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t know how I became the monster that I am today. Something snapped in me during my childhood years, an elastic bandpulled too tightly, a coil turned too much before exploding into smithereens under the pressure. That’s what happened to me, I was pushed too far I think and now I’ve fully exploded into this creature of the night. A man with no conscience and an even emptier heart.
But this isn’t a fucking trauma dumping story, you didn’t come here for that. You came here for a good fucking time, and if you’re a good girl, I’ll give you that. Won’t I, angel?
Heavy branches from the trees overhead sway in the wind, the leaves rustling together to break up the silence that surrounds me as I continue on through the street, my boots scraping across the concrete pavement. Little matchstick houses line both sides of the road, all of them looking like they’ve been copied and pasted next to one another, all of them filled with sickening bright lights and festive decorations lining the small front gardens.
Various signs are propped up in the damp grass, all of them with one thing in common.Santa please stop here.
I scoff at the words, wondering why that fat man is always welcome into their homes, but when I enter, they throw a fit? It’s not like I expect to see a sign saying ‘The Angelmaker please stop here.’That would be ridiculous but still, feeling welcome would be nice sometimes. I guess I’m just all up in my feels right now, I’ll be fine after I crack someone’s skull open and maybe pop a bone out of a joint like a Christmas cracker.
Electricity fires through my nervous system at the thought of getting my hands dirty again, to feel the skeleton of others slipping through my fingers like rib bones from a summer BBQ.
My stomach grumbles at the thought of devouring some spicy, succulent meat. I knew I should have raided the fridge before leaving Frank and Nancy’s house, maybe the next house will have some goodies for me to taste.
The streetlights overhead flicker with the heavy downpour ofsnow as I continue my travel down the street before coming to a stop outside of a house, it’s nothing special by any means, in fact it looks exactly like the others, all of them made by the same cookie cutter shape. But something feels different about this one, something darker lies inside of it, waiting for me to grace it with my presence.
A subtle glow flickers through the window from the Christmas tree lights, warm and welcoming and for the first time, I don’t hate it.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
It’s because I’m hungry, it must be. I don’t feel feelings like this, not the cosy kind anyway. It’s making me itch.
Stepping towards the small fence that lines the front garden, I carefully lift the latch on the gate and let myself inside before slipping the plastic Santa mask back over my face. I haven’t been caught yet and I refuse to let my streak end because I didn’t cover my identity. The wooden gate creaks lightly as I close it behind me and I wince at the sound, praying that everyone in this street is too busy to notice the sound. Everything remains the same as I latch the gate again and take careful steps towards the house that’s pulling me into its embrace. I feel like I have no control over my own feet, I’m simply a vessel right now, allowing this strange pull to guide me up the small pathway that lines the grass garden. Step by step I go until I reach the front door.
There’s a small wreath that hangs on a hook in front of me, the black petals of the roses that make up the small circle twinkle from the snow that’s landed on them. It doesn’t scream Christmas at all, it’s not full of cheap plastic tinsel or over the top green lights, no, this is dark and beautiful.
Slipping away from the front door, I walk around the back to see if I can make my way inside. The garden is neat and tidy, the grass cut evenly across the small space with potted plants lining the wooden fence that closes the garden off, there’s also awooden porch that covers the back door, a door that looks far too easy to crack open.
With determination in my steps, I cross over the grass and remove the small pocket knife from my jeans and get to work on picking the simple lock, it only takes me a couple of seconds to crack the mechanism inside and I’m in, ready to cause more fucking chaos. I wrap my hand around the door knob and allow myself inside, immediately I’m hit with a warm vanilla scent like sweet sugar cookies that causes my stomach to grumble even more in protest for food.
Fuck, I came to kill, not to have dinner with the in-laws.
