he takes her hand
so small in his
and they leave the house in the gloaming
he keeps her hand
holding tightly
and when they have left the houses and the smog and the people behind
he settles onto the grass of a shadowed hill
and tells her about his boyhood
she listens silently
fingers knotted into fists
her voice is quiet
when she asks him
are you killing them?
and he understands what it is to be vulnerable before someone
his soul stripped bare for her to see
he breaths in
and whispers his answer to the stars
he sees the devistation on her face
but she doesn't speak
she just leaves
like everyone else
why didn't he see it?
once they see his truth
they all leave
he doesn't see the tears on her cheeks
doesn't hear the soft sound of her footsteps
there is blood in his ears
in his smile
on his hands
and he leaves with something unhinged inside of him
they should all
be afraid
YOU ARE READING
a writer and a serial killer ✔
RomanceA writer searching for belonging and a serial killer in the midst of a murder spree collide under the most unlikely circumstances. Now they must face their demons or face their own destruction. ©2018 squishylilyoongi
