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❪ ₩ ħ ø | ɨ s | † ħ ɛ | ℳ ø ƞ s † ɛ ® ¿ ❫

Well, no fandoms yet - this is an original work. This was a plot bunny that was eating my mind last night, so I couldn't ignore it; otherwise it would've turned into another fanfiction series.

Anyways, do carry on!

WARNING: Blood. Mentions Of Blood. Violence. Foul Language.

CLAIMER: I own everything, here.

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PROMPT:

There is only one thing a killer really fears, deep down somewhere, locked away in the inner depths of the brain. That is, the idea of death. And sometimes, when a victim...

...becomes the killer.

QUOTE:

"Monsters are real, and ghosts are real, too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win."

– Stephen King.

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She is perfect. Two parents, a sibling. Lawyer. Young, a prodigy. A chance to do the world some good, to achieve her dream future.

He is a monstrosity. Homeless. Killing machine. Ruthless, a thief. A being whose priority is to murder.

[ ◊ ]

His next target? Her. The perfect one, the one mocking him of his life.

They first met whilst she was shopping; for groceries, you see. He glared, and watched. She never noticed.

Now, they meet again, at the same place.

He approaches her, but she doesn't notice. He watches, smirks when she drops something. He bends down, she bends down.

He reaches it before she does. He hands it to her, and she smiles. She has an amiable smile, he notes, and his other hand in the pocket squeezes the knife's hilt.

"Thank you," she says, and he does nothing but nod and grunt.

She turns and walks, and he is tempted to stab her back right there (oh, the irony), just to see how loud she will scream. He moves, but stops himself. He starts quivering, and he squeezes the hilt again, in an attempt to control his blood-lust. It works, his quivering ceases and his eyes glint with untold mirth as he follows her down the aisle.

She notices him a few times, always averts her gaze, though. She's telling herself that he isn't following her, he thinks. She's reassuring herself, that she doesn't have a stalker (who wants her life). As they reach the counter, she snaps her head towards him whilst paying for her items.

"Can I help you?" she asks, and there is a barely unnoticeable frightened lilt to it.

He grins, and she notes that it's quite sadistic. She is immediately cautious of this man, left hand reaching in her bag for the Ruger LCP [1] she brought in recent events of homicides. Her finger is on the trigger as she stares at him, and she jumps when she is tapped on the shoulder. She immediately turns her body, panting lightly.

"M-miss? Are you alright?" the young man at the counter asks, shy smile adorning his face.

She sighs when she realises that he is harmless, left hand releasing the gun. She nods, lifting her hand out of her bag.