The Crush List Killer

heartbeat

I tried my best not to wiggle out of his grasp with the strange feeling that tingles up my spine. Crowned the top of my head. Turned my toned abdomen into mush as I ran my hands through his hair and pulled him down to me. Famished. 

The separation was sudden. I moaned lightly into his lips and he pushed himself against me and his eyes snapped open. Hands grasped the back of my neck, pulling his lips from mine. 

I growl. 

"Down kitty," his voice is a deep rumble in his throat. "You know I did not come here for this. Although after the week I have had I would gladly kiss you until time runs out and I collapse of old age. But… there is a killer out there and they have marked you as their next target." 

I push back from his grasp. Determined to be some sort of professional. 

"Why do you think that?" 

A raised eyebrow, "Because he wrote your name on the paper he dipped in the guy he murdered blood." 

I try not to act please with this. Sucking my lips in and shifting back against the desk im now sitting on. I am not happy a man died. I am not happy someone is pulling up the past. I am not happy that Nick the selfish had decided its in his best interest to get involved. But I am happy to see James. I am always happy to see James. 

"Stop that!" 

"Stop what?" I slid off the desk pulling my hair back into the bun it had fallen out of during our makeout. 

"Acting as if you don't care. Not about you but about them. You used to care for that group of guys before all that shit went down with your brother. We cleared them of all charges." 

I pause. I don't know what in me shuttered a little bit. 

"I don't wish to be associated because I have my own life to live. I don't need to be buddies with the jack asses who got my brother killed." 

"They…" he froze for a moment. Bitting his lips before releasing a large breath. "It was no ones fault what happened to your brother." 

"I know you love to believe that, James." 

I spat his name and shoved him away, walking around so that I pressed my back against the whiteboard. He scoffed at this and ran both his hands though his hair. It pulled up his blazer to reveal the gun attached to his waist. I froze. 

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth like sandpaper. My skin itches. The souls of my feet felt like they are falling through the floor. Through the world. Into the void. The same void I feel into after that day. The sound of gun shots echo though my hears and I stutter back. Hand clasping my chest. 

"Clara? Hey you ok?" His voice. It's like a distant echo. Not as deep. Far away. 

He says something again. This time no sounds echoes. There is no sound at all. Just a subtle dull ringing in my ears. As the room collapses around me. 

I can't breath, I stutter back again. This time falling into the door. 

I hear his voice then as he rushes to comfort me and I put I sharp hand between us.

"What is wrong? Your having a panic attack, aren't you. Let me help." 

"I am no longer yours to tend to. I am no longer yours at all." Each word is shaky and full of tears as the memory surfaces of when I said them last. 

With my hand slamming down on the murder board in the precinct. Begging him to see the bigger picture other than who pulled the trigger. He didn't. Instead he stood there and watched as his partners called me hysterical. I broke up with him then, with the same words. He did not seem as taken back as the first time. Only releasing a sharpe sigh. 

"I understand that, but you must know that does not stop me from caring." 

I take another slightly less shaky breath. Put my head up. 

"Thank you, detective. For your concern and diligence in this matter. But I assure you I am safe. I will put forth measures in order to make that a sure reality. Thank you for your time." 

I do not wait for his response. Or for his outstretched hand to reach mine. I daft from the room. Chest heaving with something like rage and my feet still tried to sink into the ground with each step. I reach the main doors quickly. And to my surprise Nick is still standing there, back to the door. Hair flared out in an ill-fitting hailo. I don't wait for his ass either although I believe half the reason is that I can hear James running after me down the hallway. Bellowing my name as if it was the last time he would say it to me. Nick launched to my side in a jog as I trotted my way down the street in a random direction, wanting nothing more than distance. 

"I don't feel like it right now Nicky! I might die any day according to the detective so I just want to….I just…" I don't know what to say as I charge onto another sidewalk and I see him lean down and speak something into his watch. After which he grabs my hand and pulls me to a stuttering halt. 

"At least let me take you back to your dorm." No sooner had he said this than a silver tesla rolled to the curb. No diver in sight. Fancy. 

"I don't need your charity." 

He smiles. One of those cunning, I am going to get my way no matter what smiles. 

"Its no woman should run down the street in heels. Anyone for the matter. You going to get in? Or do I have to pick you up?" 

I roll my eyes at this but exept and slide into the passenger seat. He grins the whole way back. As if he had won something. 

POV: Killer 

I can't do it. 

I can't hold it in. 

My excitement. 

It lingers on the ends of my fingers. It pokes little holes in my lungs. I pull in air though my mouth and feel it leave just as quick. Never enough. Never enough. 

My body aches now. The hunger roars in my ears. The sound of his breath heaving. Leaving. Never to come again. Was a rush I never experienced. 

Until now. 

Close, so close. My ultimate goal. My final kill. But final it must remain. I have a task. A destiny. A thing I must aquire. He must know I am coming. Know it is me. Know his death lingers on the ends of my words at my will. At my mercy. 

For now, I will wait. Watch as ny second victim pulls his car into the drive. Chest puffed out and brazen. Unaware of the note on his computer. The email. The directions. 

The death soon to come his way. 

By my hands? I could not decide. It could be an accident. An explosive timed by weight to go off as he enters his car. A pressure switch under his desk chair that blows when he stands. But then I have to think about his coworkers. The other lives that have no play in the story. The wife and mother of 4. The son and soon to be husband. None of them mattered. 

Just him. 

I thought about this as I cleaned my gun. Dislodging the chunks of flesh that had found a home amongst the various parts. I wish I could say I delighted in the grotesque droppings that fell onto the mat. But that would be a lie. 

I wiped them up with as much joy as picking up dog shit with your bare hands. Moist and soft and not meant to be touched. Left to rot away into the soil. 

I fiddle with the trigger once done. Remembering the release. The click of the bullet into place. The spray. 

My thoughts drifted out as a knock sounded from the door.

POV: Your humble writer 

Hello, and greetings to all my lovely readers new and old. This book is kind of like a little project for me. I am just winging the whole thing so I would like to give you an opportunity to be a part of the process. Let me know if you want more blood and or more spice. I will wait a week and then put up the next chapter based on your votes. Let your friends know and hope you like my writing.