Serial Love

-1-

       "Hey, hottie. How 'bout you come and join us for some fun?" "Yeah, no." I turn my nose up at the five guys who all reek of alcohol. "Aww, why not?" One of them, a green-eyed brunette, grabs me by the wrist. "Don't touch me," I hiss, wrenching my hand away from him.

       "Yo, Paulie, I think that she's disrespecting you," a brown-eyed redhead slurs. "Oi, bitch! Pieces o' tail like you should shut your mouth, drop your pants, and bend over! So, get on all fours. Else I'll have to be rough." His disgusting breath chokes my senses.

       In my moment of distractedness, I'm pushed onto my hands and knees. The drunk piece of shit, "Paulie", fumbles with his belt. Oh, fuck no! I slam my head into his leg, making the drunk bastard lose his balance. I scramble to my feet, my face quickly contorting in anger.

        "Who do you drunk fucks think you are?! I'm not some whore to be used for your enjoyment! Got that?!" I shot, digging my nails into my palms. "Let's teach this bitch some manners!" The redead shouts in a drunken rage. The remaining four rush me together. "Pathetic."

       The men are now all lying on the ground, dizzy and bleeding. "Think twice before you try to gang up on a girl again: especially if that girl is me." I brush the hair from my eyes, tucking it behind my ear. I dust off my olive pants and my blaze-orange hoodie and set off down the street, headed for my apartment.

       I want to get there before dark; there's a serial killer running around, and the police confirmed two things: 1) the killer is a male, and 2) he only strikes at night. Rocks and pebbles crunch beneath my black sneakers. The sun disappears behind a cluster of tall buildings, engulfing me in darkness. "Hehehe."

      I whirl around. "What the fuck was that?!" I hiss, my breathing growing rapid. "Out awfully late, aren't we, darling?" I spin on my heels, the dark outline of a man greeting me. "After all, there's a murderer out here. I should know, since I'm him," the man says with a sinister chuckle. My heart attempts to pound its way out of my chest.

        He takes a step forwards, into the light of a street lamp. The man, light-brown with a messy mop of dark-brown hair on his head, grins darkly. Something flashes in his hand. A knife. The man's sinister smile grows. "A real beauty, isn't it? Perfect for turning ugly people into beautiful corpses."

       My legs wobble, fear weighing down on my muscles. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue, darling?" The man walks closer, his forest-green top stained with blood, his black jeans, which are most-likely stained, as well, hide any and all blood stains. His white sneakers, however, are half-drenched in red and brown, squeaking and squelching with wet, sickening sounds with his every step.

       His hand grabs my chin, tilting my head back. His blade pushes into the skin of my exposed throat. With a sick, sadistic grin, he holds a finger to his lips. "Shh." I suddenly find my voice, screaming bloody murder to the sky. Lights in the surrounding houses flick on and dogs begin to bark and howl.

      His smile quickly drops to a frown. "I told you to hush, darling," he snaps. He pulls his knife away from my throat and plunges it deeply into my right shoulder. I let loose another piercing caterwaul, which only increases in volume as he rips the blade out, blood fountaining from the wound. The shrill scream of police sirens fills the air.

       "Don't think this is over, darling. I'll be back," he hisses into my ear before shoving me. I hit my knees, watching helplessly as the psychopath who almost murdered me flees into the dark forest. His words echo through my mind. I'll be back. I gulp, knowing that things are far from over.