I Can't Save You (Kellic)

Chapter 4

The wind slapped me in the face with every step I took, and I was totally having second thoughts about this. But, I had no other choice. Soon, the FBI would have a name traced down from the fingerprints they found, and I'd be caught. There was no way that I could live in a cell, I wasn't done living. I wasn't done killing.

So as my hands became numb due to lack of gloves, I began to smile. Because I was going to get out of this town. Sure, I could have done this before but my non wavering complacency kept my foot glued to the ground, making it impossible to move or take action in my life.

I was at his house now, his brown door staring at me while the door bell laughed. It seemed as if they knew that I felt so small here, or that I was feeling fear for the first time in forever. In all honesty, this isn't in my job requirements and I really do like my schedules.

But, I had to set that aside. I mean, I have to. In a matter of a few days everyone will know that I'm a serial killer. So I knocked. Sure, I could have used the door bell, but he wouldn't quit laughing at me. But as soon as I laid my hand on the staring door, he stopped. Good thing too, I was about to pry him out of the wall.

Footsteps sound behind the thick piece of wood in front of me . They were light, and I knew they were his. His finger prints touched the door knob, the callouses of them running against the slick metal. In just a few seconds, he would open this taunting door and come face to face with me.

Sure enough, a smiling face answered the door, prepared to ward off any type of Jehovah witness or Girl Scouts. His teeth glowed, but soon stopped as he closed his mouth. The tan boy wouldn't remember me that quickly, he hasn't let me in.

"Hello, my name is Kellin, Kellin Boswtick. I was wondering I could come in." I asked formally. His face screwed up in confusion, but he didn't look like a rude person. Hell, I know he's not a rude person, so he let me in.

As soon as I stepped over the threshold, my eyes looked over pictures of animals. "Are you a cat or a dog person?" I asked, hands behind my back for easy access to the vase he kept on the counter beside me.

"Dog all the way. I actually have a few, but they're at my boyfriends house." He said. I knew he was gay. His toms gave all of his sexuality away, as did his walk. He constantly looked like he had something shoved up his ass.

"Ah, dogs. A mans bestfriend. I'm more of a cat person." I said. "I never got your name." He looked up at me.

"My names Vic. Uh, Vic Fuentes." He said nervously. Just then, his eyes flickered with remembrance.

But before he could say anything, I bashed a vase over his head. Couldn't have him trying to hurt me, now can we?

His sticky blood covered my hands as I brushed off broken glass from the cuts on my palm. I knew he wasn't dead by the way his fingers twitched. Which was good, but bad because he was definitely going to wake up very soon.

With that piece of information, I started to move quickly and almost anxiety like. This one was a fighter, simply because he was going to confront me about being the man known as a killer. Very stupid idea, obviously.

My fingernails dug into his skin as I dragged him down the small hallway, his blood staining the beige carpeted floor. I wanted to touch the streaks they left on the floor, they were beautiful. But, I couldn't. I had to get him out of here very quickly.

I drug him out onto the porch. Considering it was so late outside, no one was out. I kept dragging him to the car, the sound of skin scraping concrete very apparent into the silence of an obeying neighborhood. The wounds from his head poured blood, but more was coming from forming wounds caused by the pavement. Just like a skateboarders battle scars.

A small groan escaped the boy in my hands lips, causing me to drag him faster. All of his weight in my hands, which wouldn't be a lot if I didn't have to move so quickly.

Sadly, by now with the lack of gloves and my fingerprints on the vase that broke over his skull, I'd be a dead giveaway. Not that I care, because they'll never know where I'm at. I can run, and no one can catch me.

My trunk was wide open, waiting for the weight of a certain tan boy. Carrying Vic like he was a baby, I tossed him into the mouth of my black car. The sound of my trunk slamming rang through my ears, and I loved it.

I started my car and made my way to where Vic and I could be alone, together of course.