Let's Murder A Jared Leto Fan fiction

Part One

Here is my terrible attempt at a dark, twisted story with none other than the sexy, delicious Jared Leto. Let me know what you guys think

*Warning there is rape in this first part, but I won't put any details*

     She didn't think it was wrong what she did. She thought she was helping rid the world of those that wronged others. Maybe it was because everyone in her life have wronged her. Maybe it was because she liked taking someone's life. She didn't care, she enjoyed it and she was careful not to get caught. But she wanted someone to do it with. Someone to help her torture and murder. People like that can be found in unexpected places at tragic times.

     It all started when she was thirteen. Her first victims, luckily, were family members. And she had a plan to hide what really happened to them.
     Scarlette had just turned thirteen, but it wasn't that big of a deal, not in her family. Her parents didn't care about her. They stopped caring when she turned 10. It started with verbal abuse; name calling, blaming her for their problems. Scarlette let it go, ignoring the awful names. But she couldn't ignore the physical abuse.
     They would smack her to start. But after a few months, they would punch her, beat her with a belt, leaving marks on her back that would eventually become scars.
      Scarlette endured the abuse from her parents for three years, but she decided she had had enough. Scarlette was a smart thirteen year old, she paid attention in her classes, especially health. The human body fascinated her. But only along the lines of what she could do to a body the cause pain. She couldn't wait to get home and practice what she's learned.

     Scarlette got off her bus and walked to her house. When she stepped inside, her parents were fucking on the couch. Scarlette looked away in disgust. It wasn't the first time she had seen them do that. They had no decency for her, they didn't care that she had come home. Scarlette went upstairs to her room, putting on music to drown out the yelling pleasure coming from her mother downstairs.
     She paced back and forth, playing out in her head the way she wanted to kill them. A quick death? Or torture? She couldn't decide. But something would soon happen to her that would answer her puzzling question.

*******
     It was 2a.m. Scarlette was still awake. She sat on her bed, listening, waiting for her parents to shuffle upstairs and into bed. That's when she would do what she wanted to them. Scarlette heard her parents footsteps walking up the stairs. One set went to the bedroom, the other stopped in front of her door. She waited, pulling her legs up to her chest.
     The door opened, her father stood in the threshold, from the light of her red lamp, she could see his drunken eyes. "When did you get home?" He slurred his words as he slowly walked in closer, closing the bedroom door. "The normal time. You two were to busy fucking on the couch to notice. Good for me though, I didn't get a beating from you or her." Scarlette said coldly.
Her father chuckled before bringing up his fist and punching her in the face, breaking her nose. Scarlette fell onto her pillow, holding her hand over her nose, feeling the warm blood on her skin. The pain, was none existent. Her father climbed onto her, holding her head down with one hand.
     "Your gonna be my special little girl." The words in her ear made her stomach turn. Scarlette wanted to fight him off, but she was only thirteen and weak. It would've been pointless.
Scarlette never thought she would feel a pain worse then being hit, but her father changed that. The pain between her legs, was the worse she'd ever felt. Scarlette lay there, as her father had his way with her. Now she had an even more reason to kill her father. And her mother, who was probably passed out in the room.
     Her father finished letting out a grunt. He pulled away from her, smiling down evilly at his helpless daughter as he buckled his jeans. "This is only the start." He laughed diabolically before leaving the room. Scarlette lay where she was. She didn't cry. She didn't whimper. She just lay there, her core pulsing from what was done to her.
     Scarlette sat up on her knees, she looked down to see blood running down her thigh. Scarlette got off her bed, she paced back and forth. She then decided, she'd had enough.
Quietly, she opened her door and snuck downstairs. She grabbed a knife from the kitchen door and the house phone. She had the perfect plan to hide what she was about to do.
     Nothing but rage and vengeance were going through her head, as she snuck back upstairs, walking to her parents room. She slowly opened the door, seeing her parents were passed out. Perfect.
     Scarlette noticed a glass of vodka on ice on the nightstand beside her mother. She smirked to herself and grabbed it, before walking over to the far side of the room and turning on her father's laptop. She waited for it to boot up before she poured the liquid on it. The keyboard sparked before a small fire started.
Scarlette turned to her sleeping parents before stepping up to her father's side first. She looked down at him with hatred. She brought up the knife, putting it to his neck. He opened his eyes, before she slowly cut his throat.
     Her father grabbed his neck, gasping for air that he couldn't get, as blood pored from the wound. As the fire got bigger covering the rest of the laptop and the CDs stacked beside it, she walked around to her mothers side, doing the same to her.
She stood and watched her parents bleed to death as the fire spread throughout the room, catching clothes on fire laid out on the floor. The fire inched closer to her, she dropped the knife, before leaving the room, she knew the fire would melt the knife, completely erasing her fingerprints.
Scarlette went downstairs, dialing 911.
     "911 what's your emergency?" The dispatch asked. "Please... Send help. My house.... Its on fire. My parents are trapped in their room.... I don't know if they are alive." Scarlette faked catharsis, standing outside her house. "Stay on the line. We're sending the police and firemen to your location." The dispatcher said. "Ok." Scarlette smiled, watching as the fire devoured her house. The plan had worked. No one would know the truth of what happened.

*Five Years Later*

     Scarlette graduated with flying colors. Since the "accident" with her parents, she lived with her grandparents. They had no idea how she was treated at home, and she was going to keep it that way. But she didn't like them. They were stuck-up and full of themselves because they had money. They didn't care about Scarlette they took her in because they had to, as the law said. The closest relatives to her mother had to take care of her.
It wasn't paradise but it was better than living with her abusive parents. At least when they talked shit about her, they did it behind her back. But it didn't bother Scarlette, not anymore.              Nothing bothered her anymore.
     Well, except an itch. That could only be scratched by doing what she did best. But she needed a victim, someone who deserved to die. In her mind, that was her grandparents. Why did they deserve a slow, painful, death? Because they didn't care about her. Scarlette never figured out why, but she didn't care. They would have to do.
     Since she had moved in, and with her grandfather being a doctor, it gave her an opportunity to learn more about the human body. Each bone, each organ, each muscle. A body's weakness. It was good homework, but there was still a lot for her to learn.
Scarlette liked to go to the library in town and read about famous killers of history. Aileen Warnos, Charles Manson. Of course they became psychotic, not very good role models. She didn't care, all she read about was what they did to people.

     "I see your reading about Aileen Warnos." Scarlette heard a voice, she pulled down her book and was taken back by a tall handsome man standing before her. He wore a dark blue shirt under a black leather jacket, black jeans, sneakers, and his hair messy, as though he ran his hand through it. He. Was. Beautiful.
"Are you a fan?" Scarlette closed the book and smiled at him, as he sat in the chair before her. "Not a fan per say, I just like what she did to those fuckers that wronged her." He smirked, relaxing into the chair. "Same here. But not all the guys did. Just the first one, and her father... Pretty twisted stuff." Scarlette pointed out. "Still, I'm sure she has her reasons for killing the others." He said. "As do we all." She said quietly, looking at the book.
     "What?" Victor heard what she said, which wasn't what she intended. She gave him a meekly look. "Nothing... I just meant... I'm sure all of us have our own reasons on wanting to kill... Someone in the world." She said before laughing nervously. She had to be careful what she said, she didn't know who this guy was. He could've been a cop undercover, still investigating the accident five years ago.

     Victor smiled at the girl before him, he liked her. She had a dark secret, just like him. The book she was reading gave it away. "Listen, I have some really interesting books at my house, I think you'll like. You should come over tonight." Victor said, as he opened Scarlette's notebook and used her pen to write his address at the top of the page.
     "I don't know if that's a good idea." Scarlette said, leaning forward and crossing her legs, a sly smile on her lips. "Why's that?" Victor asked curiously, his piercing blue eyes occasionally looking at her perfect lips.
     "What if your a serial killer? Inviting someone to your home is the perfect way to do the job." She replied, coaxing him a little. "Is that what you would do, if you were?" He asked. "No... It's to subtle. Your going to be more suspicious about being invited to a strangers house, then if you go into the woods or a secluded area. Smaller space, better chance of taking your victim." She told him. Victor was astonished. Scarlette giggled, "Books do wonders to the mind." She put the book on the table. Victor laughed, catching on to what she meant.
     "Your something you know that?" He leaned back in his chair. "What does that mean?" She gave him an uneasy look. "Its not a bad thing. Your just... Not like any other girl I've met." He told her, reassuringly. "Thanks. No one's ever said that to me before." She admitted. Scarlette was already starting to like him. It was odd though, he was interested in her even still after what she said.
"Really? I find that hard to believe." He said in a low voice, giving her a lustful look. Scarlette swallowed hard. Does he... Want me? She thought to herself. "Well, I should go. My guardians are probably wondering where I am." She told him, standing and grabbing her books off the small table in front of them. Victor stood as well, sliding his hands into his jean pockets.
     "So, will I see you tonight?" He asked, curiously. Scarlette softly laughed, "Maybe. I guess you'll just have to find out tonight." She teased. He smiled at her, as she started to leave. "I never got your name." He said to her. She turned as she walked backwards. "Scarlette." She replied, turning back around and leaving the library.
     "Scarlette." He repeated her name, still looking at the exit. He bit his lip, smiling. She was perfect. And...

She was going to be his. Only his.