Serenity (Watty finalist 2013)

Chim Chimney

Mr. Thorne sipped his coffee and waited for Serenity to bring lunch while he read the paper. There had been yet another murder. The police were baffled, per usual, though it wasn’t entirely their fault, they weren’t your typical murders. Not only were they particularly gruesome and twisted but done by a professional, an amature, but plenty skilled either way, Mr. Thorne would know. He half hoped that the police would put an end to the onslaught and stop the supply of dead woman being delivered to him, but that was highly unlikely.

Serenity came in with a covered silver tray and Mr. Thorne folded the paper.

“Did the groceries come in?”

“Yes, Master Thorne,” Serenity answered. She set down the tray and glanced at the newspaper.

“More murder?” A steamy dish of steak, peas, and small roasted potatoes awaited Mr. Thorne. He started cutting up the steak while Serenity skimmed over the newspaper. “That makes two that are publicly known. Sounds like they even came up with a name.”

“Amature,” Mr. Thorne sneered.

“I’d beg to differ,” Serenity disagreed. “Those incisions and extractions had a surgical quality to them. A bit on the violent side but murderers aren’t exactly a gentle breed.” Mr. Thorne stopped eating to cast her a questioning gaze. “Tea?”

“No,” he said after a cautious glance at the teapot. “And I don’t care how talented this person is in the medical field. If you want to make a living off of killing you don’t advertise; the only earnings you’ll makes is a length of rope.”

“Not everyone kills for money like you,” Serenity said. She read over the newspaper section again. “Sounds more like he’s killing for attention.” Mr. Thorne snatched the newspaper from Serenity’s prying eyes.

“I think that’s enough of your profiling for one day,” he decided.

“Very well Master Thorne.” Mr. Thorne mimicked her irritating robotic response in his mind. He sometimes wondered if the woman was even capable of emotion other than apathy, submission, and the occasional flare of resistance that always faded into the quiet depths of her mind. Occasionally the thought of inflicting pain on her just for the sake of seeing something other than calmness worked it’s way into his mind, but pain didn’t count as an emotion.  

There were the rare exceptions. The biggest being when they first met and Serenity was so taken with fear that she fainted. Of course that was now just a distant memory and it was highly unlikely he’d see any emotion that intense ever again. As for emotions such as passion, bliss, or delight, those were thing he would probably never see, no matter how long he lived. Unless he figured out so way to force them out of her. Several scenarios crossed his mind, ones that cause even her to blush or even slap him.

“Serenity?” Mr. Thorne asked when his curiosity got the best of him.

“Miss Meadows,” she corrected. “And yes?”

“Would you smile for me?” Serenity searched his face for any indication that he was plotting something but found only interest.

“Why?” Mr. Thorne shrugged.

“Change of scenery,” he said plainly. Serenity frowned slightly; she didn’t like it when Mr. Thorne got interested in her, it usually led to bad things.

“Are you finished yet?” Serenity asked eager to exit the conversation. Mr. Thorne dabbed his lips with the napkin and tossed it onto his partially full plate, ever since the kidney incident he had lost his desire for meat.

“It tasted a bit different today,” he noted absently.

“That’s because it’s liver.” Mr. Thorne swiftly grabbed his napkin back off the plate and used it to scrape his tongue.