Chapter 2: Evesdropping

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The first time I met Evee Clark was... unexpected. I was not looking for someone to sink my teeth into, it all just kind of happened. 

Call it destiny. Call it dumb luck. 

I was with the only person I would consider the closest thing to a friend. He's not even a friend; more like a decoy. A way for me to blend into the crowd. I am not a very social person by nature, but Oscar is. Typical jock personae; a bit of a jerk really. Honestly, if I didn't need him to make myself seem more approachable, I would have cut off his head by now and ate his eyeballs for dinner. I always preferred the taste of blue eyes over any other. Something about the way they feel...

Perhaps it was the nostalgia of my first kill but hey, I'm getting a little distracted here. I was talking about how I met Evee.

We went to a dive bar. Live music, rowdy crowds, drunk and belligerent pretty boys trying to pick up an easy lay. This one was particularly known for its backdoor bathroom drug use. Oscar has kind of a coke problem. I never touch the stuff. People use drugs as a means of escape. I don't want to escape this reality. I want to possess power over it.

We went into music blaring and the smell of cigarette smoke. It was dingy with a lackluster rock n' roll theme to it. Cheap neon signs and black and white photos of guitar players and shirtless singers hung on the walls. The bar itself was made of thick, deep brown mahogany. Its surface was smooth to the touch, slick and satisfying. It didn't belong in a place like that. Sticky floors, girls with cleavage showing and their skirts too high. This bar deserved better than being a servant to this rabble of lowlifes and whores.

"I gotta take a leak." Oscar was wasting no time in getting what he really came here for. A nose full of precious white powder.

"I'll be at the bar." I sorta grumbled out to him.

He laid a brotherly hand on my shoulder before making a b-line for the back. I found a comfortable seat towards the far side of the bar and sat down. The seat was ripped and barely attached to the shoddy floor post it was strapped to.

A very skinny long-haired woman with tan skin approached me from behind the bar.
"What'll it be?"

"Just a beer."

I wasn't a big drinker but if I was going to blend in, I needed to at least have alcohol sitting in front of me. She dropped a cold one on a disposable coaster and slid it over to me. I thanked her with a nod and grabbed the cold wet bottle in my hands. Looking straight ahead at the graphically etched mirror behind the bar, I pulled at my straight black hair.

It was getting too long. I normally don't let my hair grow that much. It was harder to keep back, especially when I was working. Killing was a messy business and I never left evidence behind. Having long hair was not something I normally did, but I was in a bit of a funk lately.

My last joyful dismemberment was over 6 months ago. My problem was not that I didn't want to, but finding a worthy subject wasn't easy. I didn't just choose randomly based on their sex or a physical profile like the textbook example of a serial killer.

I choose my victims based on what's hidden behind their eyes. That certain look that, even though they seemed alright on the outside, everything on the inside was a fucking shit show. The ones that were masters at wearing a mask, even more so than myself.

The music stopped and shoddy applause and hollering rose up from the crowd.

"Alright everyone," a generic looking guy in a plaid shirt and jeans announced from the stage."I know ya'll be waiting for this."

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