Keep Running

The art of seduction is what this game is about. Without seduction, I would have no victims. That’s the problem with my… profession, if you will. The human contact beforehand is extensive. Some people take a lot of work, others are so willing to take a ride from a complete stranger. It’s almost pathetic, really. The chase is half the fun.
In order to really be a killer, you have to know a lot. You have to observe and absorb every aspect of your next victim’s life. This is an important part, yes, but the most important part of serial murders, is the art of seduction. To be able to get close enough to your victim to make the move, that’s the most important part.
So that’s what I do. I’m good with my words, and I can easily get close to people.
My next victim was to be Amelia Winchester, a widow. She is thirty-three years old, stands at five foot seven, has blonde hair, and green eyes, and she walks her little dog, Raptor, every night. Her husband was Dale Winchester, a man of few words, and the most recent unsolved homicide in this pathetic, small town.
I stayed leaned against my lamp post. I knew that my target walked by here every night, and tonight was the perfect night to work with. Rain beat down on the sidewalk, and the dim light from the lamp post barely illuminated three feet in each direction.
Right on que, I saw a blonde haired woman walking down the sidewalk with her little dog, and an umbrella. I sat down on the curb and put my head in my hands, beginning to fake cry. My body shook as I forced out sobs.
Just as I expected her to do, she stopped.
“Are you okay, kid?”
I was short, and I looked pretty innocent. I wasn’t actually a kid, I was twenty three, but I could easily pull sixteen, maybe even fourteen.
I pulled my head from my hands and looked up at her. The dim light flickered a little. The light bulb was going out. “I-I’m fine… just leave me alone.” I said through gritted teeth, trying not to smirk wickedly like I usually did.
She sat down next to me, “No you’re not, why are you out here all alone? It’s late.” She put her hand on my back gently, “What’s your name sweet-heart?”
I looked down at my ratty converse, “I-it’s Frank…” I stammered. I played pathetic really well. “I… my parents kicked me out.” I told her, chewing on my lip.
“Awwww. You poor baby.” She cooed. “How about you come with me while I finish walking my dog, and we can get you some dry clothes and a hot cup of tea.”
I nodded, and she helped me to my feet.
As we walked, she asked me questions, answers to which I had to make up on the spot, but that was one of the things I did best.
I was disappointed that the cops hadn’t taken my clues to her name, because they obviously hadn’t warned her about a notorious serial killer being after her.
I laughed to myself as I answered questions about my family, and why I was kicked out. She bought it all, which made me almost bored.
She wasn’t the least bit suspicious.
“How old are you, Frankie?” She asked as she fiddled with her keys.
“I’m seventeen.” I responded.
She smiled back at me, “Well, I don’t see why your father would ever want to kick you out, you seem like a good kid.” She said.
She pushed the door open, and waited for me to go inside.
I stepped in, and pushed my hand through my rain soaked black hair. “Thank you very much for inviting me into your home, Mrs. Winchester.” I said, smiling.
“It’s just Ms. In fact, call me Amelia.” She said.
“How could a beautiful woman like you not be married?” I inquired.
“My husband… he… died.” She deadpanned.
I had indeed killed Dale Winchester, her late husband, myself, a couple months ago.
“That’s awful. How’d he die?” I asked.
“That horrible Yin fellow got a hold of him.” She choked.
She was crying. Beautiful.
A smirk creased my lips, “Don’t cry, Amelia.” I murmured.
She looked at me and smiled through the tears.
“How about we get you some tea.” She said, leading me to the kitchen.
I had been wearing gloves this entire time, and she had asked me about that. It was because it was chilly, I told her. She believed it.
I looked around the kitchen and smiled. A pear knife is what I wanted, and what I found. I grabbed the small kitchen knife, and wrapped my hand around the handle, holding the blade against my wrist to keep it hidden.
“A-Amelia?” I began. My mouth tried to twist into a smug smile, but I wouldn’t let it.
She stopped rummaging in her cupboards, “Yes dear?”
“Can I have a hug?”
“Of course!” She smiled and walked over to me, embracing me in her arms. I coiled my arms around her neck, and dug the blade into her back, right under her shoulder blades.
She screamed, and when I stepped away, she fell to the ground, pain consuming her. “Amelia, haven’t people warned you about letting strange men into your house?” I asked, forcing her to roll on to her back.
She stared up at me with eyes glazed over in pain and fear, as I crouched beside her, brushing hair from her face. “Such a pretty woman…” I murmured, “Too bad…” I traced my fingers over her cheek bones, smiling. “Do you believe everything that people tell you?” I asked, “I bet that you’re a mighty big whore…” And with that, I plunged the knife into her throat just as she screamed again. The cry became gurgled, and then stopped, as I tore upwards.
I carved a permanent smile on her face, just for fun, because she looked so sad, before removing her blouse, and carving my Yin Yang symbol into her left hip.
And then I left. I walked out of the house, leaving the pear knife in her neck.
A man that I paid no mind to was walking by, smoking a cigarette. I pulled out my own, but found I had no lighter, so I approached him.
“Got a light?”
“Sure thing.” He lit my cigarette and continued to walk.
The rain had slowed down significantly, I noticed, as I walked, and soon it stopped all together.
I strolled down the street casually, until I returned home. “Dax! I’m back!” I shouted.
A small dog came running down the hallway and jumped at my leg. I scooped him up and buried my face into his fur. Dax was the only thing I ever loved, and the only thing I wouldn’t want to leave behind if I got caught.
I craved to get caught, but at the same time, I didn’t want to.
“How are you buddy?” I laughed as he lapped at my face. He licked the blood from my cheek, and then I set him down.
“Good night.” I murmured to myself as I walked down the hallway and into my bedroom.

The next morning, I sat on my balcony reading the paper.
The front headline was, “The Yin Killer Strikes Again!”
Under the headline, was the story and the details about Amelia Winchester.
Thirty five, stands at five foot seven, a widow, blonde hair, green eyes. Simple stuff like that, things I already knew about her. Her obituary was written by her mother.
What I really enjoyed about the article, was the police apology. They got the clues, they were just too stupid to follow them. It irritated me, really, because they were the people protecting this town, and they couldn’t even catch a killer that leaves notes, and tries to get caught.
I try to get caught.
“Well Dax, old chap, I’ve got to go to work.” I set the paper down, and kissed the dog’s head, before standing up, and going to get dressed.
Yes, I work a normal job, and lead a normal(ish) life when I’m not out killing or stalking my next victim, believe it or not.
I work at a bar on the north side of town, and that’s where I picked out victims. The most pathetic ones, the ones that cried. Those were the ones I chose. I was doing them a favor! They weren’t happy! Not at all…
Today business was very slow. I leaned against the bar counter boredly as I watched my boss talk to the health inspector.
I looked away from the two men when the door opened. A tall, lanky boy, with greasy black hair, and a camera had walked in, with an older woman. She looked about forty-seven. “Wait here.” She snapped at him.
He was busy taking pictures.
The woman approached the bar, “Get me a gin and tonic.” She demanded rather rudely. Her eyes were red and puffy.
“Alright.” I said, nodding. I grabbed the gin bottle, and a can of tonic, and a glass, filling it partially with ice before filling the glass half way up with gin, and topping it off with the tonic.
I set the glass down in front of her, “That’ll be seven bucks.” I told her.
She dug through her purse, and produced a five dollar bill, and several coins. I counted it out, seven bucks.
I couldn’t stop watching the black haired boy as he took pictures. He even tried to take a picture of me, leaning over the bar, but I didn’t let him. “Hey, point that camera somewhere else.” I snapped before he could take the photo.
He looked disappointed, but he did.
After he and his mother (I assume) left, the bar was pretty much empty the rest of the day.

I gathered my stuff from the break room, and walked out of work, lighting my cigarette as I walked, pushing my hand through my hair.
A man, the man from last night that had a lighter, approached me. “May I speak with you, sir?” He asked me. I raised an eyebrow at him, but then shrugged. “Alright. Walk with me then.” I invited.
The man and I walked side by side, and he asked me casual questions. At first.
“What is this, an interrogation?” I asked after a while.
He stopped walking and stared at me. We stood outside the abandoned warehouse, and he just stared at me with cold eyes.
“What’s your deal?” I growled, then I spun on my heels and walked off at a quick pace. I had some things I needed to take care of…

Notes

Okay, so I really like this idea, like a lot, and I hope you guys do too. Sorry if this is just a bit of rambling, but I had to start somewhere!

Comment, rate, subscribe, all those nice things!

Later lovelies!

XOXO
~Marie