3 - It Tastes...Interesting.

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I took the sheet of paper from her hand, scanning them diligently, memorizing the information placed before me. The letters coordinated together, along with numbers, telling me exactly where my first victim lived, his home not too far from here.

Nadia looked a bit worried as she watched me, her skin crawling with nerves to the point where her discomfort was visible, “What are you gonna do now?”

I glanced up at her before reviewing the information again, assessing how to put it delicately, “I’m going to murder this man and then eat him.”

Well I suppose it was not put as delicately as I had planned.

She had nothing else to say, which was a magnificent relief to me; her talking annoyed me worse than humanly possible. Placing the paper down on her cluttered desk, I peered towards the window to see that the sun had in fact decided to descend, the light from the moon making its way into the spotlight. My stomach rolled with excitement, the hunger it has been forced to endure prompting it to desire flesh even more. Wasting no time, I turned to exit, carefully navigating around the jungle of scattered clothing and bed sheets. I approached the door as fumbling came from over my shoulder, Nadia’s presence evident.

“You are not coming with me,” I dismissed, knowing that her plans were exactly that.

Turning around, my suspicions reigned true. She looked up at me from her crouched over position as she hopped with the help of one leg, her lifted foot wiggling into her shoes and she forced the sneaker on over her stripped socks, a pouted frown to her lips.

She stood to her full abilities after fiddling with her shoes and reached through a pile for her purple jacket, slinking it on over her shoulders, “Why can’t I go?”

“A better question would be to ask why in the world you would want to go,” I corrected, curious of her motives.

“I won’t wait around here, all cooped up in this apartment; I need some fresh air too ya know. And besides, I don’t have any homework, so it’s not like I’m procrastinating,” she reasoned, looking slightly desperate.

I came to the conclusion that she was a mediocre actress, and that I was not so easily fooled. But, being the curious man I am, I decided to allow her to partake on this bloody journey with me, only to see what she truly had planned. Turning back towards her door, I flipped the lights off and grabbed onto the metal door handle, turning and pulling to reveal a vacant set of doors and stairs. Escaping from the way I had come the night before, I descended from the stairs and into the open night air, savoring the sweet smell of opportunity, and death. My night was quickly burdened by Nadia and she skipped alongside me, her eyes constantly watching me for my next move. I did not mind being observed, I only minded being observed by her in particular. Why this was, I had not a clue, but it was a sense of discomfort that tingled up my spin and prompted me to hate her almost immediately. With feelings aside, since I cannot stand those pesky things, I began to pace in the direction of the man’s home, mapping out the back streets and alleyways I was prepared to take in my head. It was simple, yes, to find my way around places even after a short period of time actually being there; I was observant.

“I hate this town,” Nadia began after merely 10 minutes of silence, “It’s too, I don’t know. How would you describe it?”

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