She wasn't a huge fan of volunteering. Her sole purpose here was to satisfy her parents and build up volunteer hours to bulk up her college resume. Sure, it helped the homeless, but there were plenty of rich people who could help the homeless. She wanted to be at work where she could make money, or at least at home on her computer.
Thus, the only reason she had continued to volunteer at the soup kitchen after her first time was the chef. The albino chef, to be specific. Not only had she never seen an albino person before, but this one was absolutely adorable with his combination of curly hair and short stature. She had never been able to sneak any more than a few pictures before to show her friends, but today he had actually left the kitchen and was serving the food to their homeless customers. He was chatting with a gorgeous Indian girl at the moment, but to her satisfaction he did not appear to like her. In fact, she had seen him glare at the girl several times. That was also sign that he wasn't a complete goody-two-shoes, which made him even more wonderful.
Since her shift had finished an hour ago, she had been taking short video clips of him and sending them to her friends. She had almost been able to convince them to come volunteer before Christmas break had ended, but nobody was willing to sacrifice the two hours of time – the minimum for soup kitchen shifts, though she knew for a fact that the beautiful chef covered two shifts – simply to observe a rare albino in person.
Despite his adorable appearance and admirable skills in the kitchen, she did not plan on ever speaking to him. He was a man meant to be admired from a distance. The men and women she tended to admire up close generally had very outgoing and adventurous personalities, while the chef the opposite. He rarely spoke a word, and even when he was working his eyes were often unfocused as if he was lost in another world. Most importantly, he held himself in a manner that showed no insecurities despite his quietness, and therefore made her feel as if she did not deserve to speak to him.
The angelic, though somewhat short man emerged from behind the serving counter without his apron or hair net. His shift was over. He headed straight towards the door, the small smile that often graced his face while he worked gone without a trace. She turned on her phone's camera once again to get a close shot as he passed her. Then, in less than a breath of a second, he flickered from standing up and walking to on his back with a dark substance burning through the front of his shirt and his skin. As he sat up, blood gushed from several deep cuts in his sides as well as a large one on his throat. Then he was coughing, his hand over his throat, and everyone was rushing towards him.
She took an involuntary step backward. There was so much blood. She did not want blood on her new sneakers; they were perfectly white just like the snow. This was just like the killings she had heard so much about, and she had recorded it, too. The thought of possibly becoming internet famous encouraged her to take a step forward again, her phone camera still pointed at the albino now tainted red by blood. He removed his hand from his throat, where the wound did not look as bad as it had before, and shoved himself to his feet with jerky movements. The dark substance that had been burning through his shirt had disappeared, leaving in its wake painful red and black burn marks. How curious. She wondered what kind of acid was such a dark color, but decided to ask her chemistry teacher on Monday rather than bothering with any research.
The man staggered through the crowd, one of his arms pushing away everyone who tried to stop him. Where was he going? Someone had called 911. Perhaps he was not in the right mind. If he was normally somewhat crazy, she would not mind getting to know him. Maybe he put on a nice face for the crowds while he volunteered, just like her. She crossed the fingers of her free hand and followed him through the crowds until he burst onto the street. She was not going to chase him out there; it was far too cold.
The girl turned off the video and stepped back into the warmer part of the building. Before people could even begin to chase the dying man, she had uploaded the video to as many media outlets as she could, with her name in the corner throughout so that nobody else could claim the rights to it. If she got lucky, she would be the only one to have a video of the day's excitement and she would get the claim to fame.