Every Killer Has A Weakness

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So in the begining I tried to make things a little gorey so that's a heads up!:)

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One last scream, one last breath did the girl take as life was being torn away from her. Her focus on the devil in front of her was gone as her head slumped onto the floor and stared at nothing. A malicious laugh escaped the lips of the person who stood over her and held a knife in their hand. A smile spread across their face.

They grabbed the victim by their thick and voluminous, platinum hair and dragged them down a long corridor as quickly as they could. Anger ran through the killer's body as her strong feminine hands pulled the corpse pass another body. The one that laid motionless on the floor was had more muscle than the other. It had masculine features and a muscular body that would make any woman drool. The skin was covered by a suit with a red stain that began to cover half of the dress shirt. It was obvious that a knife was used on the bloke too and punctured his heart in the stabbing process. A pool of blood spread on the hard, cold, floor underneath the body.

The murderer placed the petite woman on the bed. Thick crimson liquid oozed out from the stab wounds on her chest and red marks shown around her neck. The lifeless eyes held nothing now as the dead woman's hands and legs were tied to the bed. Her blue short dress was ripped from the bottom and her legs were spread apart to make anyone who found her believe that there was something sexual that occurred before and/or after she was murdered.

The killer climbed on top of the bed and straddled the corpse. She dragged the tip on the knife down the now cold skin of the girl below her. A sigh escaped from between her full red lips and the blade stopped at the body's chin. The woman's hand began to tighten around the handle of the knife and she began to grind her teeth.

"You were my best friend . . . and I trusted you!" She growled, trying to hold back the anger inside her.

Without thinking, the woman slowly dug the knife into the porcelain skin. Tears ran down her cheeks as the entire blade was driven into the corpse. A few seconds past that were spent grieving - not of regret but of anger. The female picked herself up from the bloody mattress and sluggishly made her way to the deceased male.

She looked down at the handsome man as if he was some vile monster. She stood there for the longest time, wondering what to do with him. The sound of the clock ticking was the only noise in the room and every second that she waited, she grew more and more furious at the people she killed. The anger built up inside her and now she only wanted to scream; but she couldn't. The neighbors would hear, of course, and she was surprised that the flashing red lights haven't arrived yet due to all of the screaming and yelling that occurred not too long ago.

With the longing to leave the scene, the young woman looked ahead of her and stared down the long corridor as she walked down it. The knife was wrapped in a small white cloth then placed in a red strapless purse that matched the killer's knee length dress that had red laced long sleeves. Before leaving the deceased residents in their home, the crossed woman wiped away every piece of evidence that could have revealed that she was there.

Later the front door closed. The salty tears stung the killer's eyes as she gave up on holding back her emotions. She wanted to scream and wreck everything that stood in her way, but she couldn't. No one could know she was hurt. No one could know how much pain she felt or how the pain would always be replaced with some sort of comfort when she made a kill.

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The blood that rested on Harry's hands ran down the drain as he washed them in the sink. His shirt was stained with with the same crimson that was now gone from his palms. He changed his attire to a plain white t-shirt and black jeans after showering. A smile was plastered on his face as he walked into his bedroom and there laid two women - one a with short chestnut hair with pink high lights and the other with blonde hair long.

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