For The Thrill

in #fiction5 years ago

death-164761_1280.jpg


It’s dark and he’s walking. He does this every night, walk the short distance from his tiny apartment to the diner. To a stranger, he’s just another human taking a stroll with his hands in the pockets of his dark blue hoodie. He loves the night, at least he used to. He would sneak out with his sister after dark and they would run to the small garden behind their house to play. Sometimes when the moon was bright, they would lose track of time till their mother found them. But everything changed when his sister went missing.

He shakes his head to clear his fogged memory. He hates remembering. The diner is his second home now. He calls all of them his second home, but there's something about here. Whatever it is, it's making him drag his feet. There had been others before this city and this diner. He has stopped keeping count.

Three months ago, it was a bar at the other side of the city. The bartender had caught his attention and made him stay. He likes them petite and brown-haired. She was a cheerful one, her behind swaying in rhythm to her footsteps as she shifted tables. She was perfect. But one morning, she was found in the pool of her own blood. She was cut open and left to bleed out after they took from her. He knew it was time to move on.

The diner is still open. Most of the people will be gone by now. This is the right time. He likes the quietude. He closes his fingers round the pen knife in his pocket as he continues to walk. The pretty waitress has been batting her eyelashes at him all week. He knows she’s the one. He has recognised it the first time he stepped foot in there.

It's a wonder how slutty they can be. He chuckles to himself. She always has this cheap chain around her neck, but it wasn't fake glitter that caught his attention. The small pendant did. They lie and fornicate but still manage to wear a cross everyday. He isn't religious but he dislikes abusers and pretenders. No that it matters. She'll be taken care of tonight. He's been feeling angry lately and it's her fault. He just might make it brutal. She's a liar after all.

She's also making him think about his sister a lot. He had quenched the desire to touch her face and erased the sound of her laughter from his memory years ago. For a long time, he had convinced himself that he had forgotten. But he remembers everything vividly. It wasn't his fault. He had to take care of her. He had mourned her too. He doesn't understand why he kept the secret from their parents or why he chooses women with the same hair colour as his sister.

Tonight, he has to finish the job. There's no lake to throw her in, like he did his sister, but he'll make do. He's sorry it has to happen. He needs to take care of them. They are all so vulnerable, and like his sister, too beautiful for this world.


Because I wanted to murder some people. Tell me your thoughts.

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