She brought her own belt.
I wouldn't have to use mine today, which, of course, seemed safer, and that's what killing someone and getting away with it is all about; being safe.
Not screwing up, not leaving any finger prints, or form of DNA. Just leaving them with a mangled corpse, and the horrific thought of a young life ended too soon.
They'd never understand me, or my motives, and I didn't want them to. I didn't want them to peer into my head, and try to justify what they found with their stupid psychological trauma shit. I didn't want them to hand me another bottle of pills, and then send a nurse to my home to shove them down my throat.
Please, give me a fucking break.
I looked the girl over. She was young, beautiful, and just like the 9 other girls there was something about her that reminded me of Stephanie.
I gazed at her, assessing my newest victim carefully. Her hair was long in a ponytail, easy to grab, she wore a dress, a black one, easily removed, and of course, there was the gold belt around her waist, the very thing I would use to take her life.
In my mind I had everything planned. How I'd flirt with her, how I'd dance with her, how I'd get her to my house, and how she'd breathe, so heavily, oh how I loved it when their breathing sped up when they realized they were in danger. I even imagined how her screams would sound, and how I'd muffle them, as I choked her.
The club was loud, the bass causing the entire room to move back and forth in sync like one ocean of sweaty bodies crashing against a shoreline.
I stood casually, my right elbow leaned against the bar, my left hand firmly around my glass of Svedka. My eyes never left her and hers' never left mine as she rubbed her hands up and down her body seductively dancing to get my attention. I sipped the vodka slowly, the liquid fire slid down my throat.
It was showtime. I put down the glass and strutted over to her confidently.
"You're cute, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this all alone?"
She smirked at me. We both knew the answer before she said anything.
"I don't know, looking for a good time I guess."
She meant someone to fuck.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Ashley. Yours?" She had this look in her eyes, it was the type of look any regular guy would love to see coming from a beautiful girl.
If only she knew.
"Kyle. Kyle Reed."
"Dance with me Kyle."
Before I could respond she was dragging me out unto the dance floor with both hands and grinding her body against mine.
I immediately knew this would be too easy.
Suddenly Ashley's face began to change, feature by feature, her freckles disappearing, eyes becoming smaller, and a lighter shade of blue, and her hair going from it's dark fiery red to a light orange. This happened with all the girls.
She was becoming Stephanie.
No, she was Stephanie.
I threw my hands around her back and immediately began to feel her up.
She giggled. "How about we go back to your place after this?"
"I'd like that."
I placed my lips on her neck, while we moved back and forth.
She smelled so good. Stephanie always smelled good. It was one of the things I loved about her. Strawberries, her shampoo smelt like strawberries.
Steph's hand reached up to touch my face, her fingers moving down my neck and to my chest.
It was the kind of touch that set my body on fire.
Gosh, I had missed her.
YOU ARE READING
Into The FrayHorror
The accident was fatal. She died. But he never stopped blaming himself. He had been angry, they had been fighting, he had been driving, and it was him that hadn't seen the enormous semi-truck that hit them on her side. They think he's gone mad, hel...