Deadly Love

The Child

The Child

Maybe it was the rush that made him continue, that slight feeling of being caught the adrenaline from simply being seen not even in the act but simply seen.

What made him different from the police or the government?
Nothing, nothing made him different from them it was just that he was just an average citizen who could pull a trigger without remorse, but if you really checked that as the beginnings of a serial killer then half the world's population would be found guilty.

He just capitalized it, under what, the gaze of a sweet barrister at the local night club, whose hands cleaned not only crystal glass cups but rusty blades and blood stained concrete for who?
A client with an issue. So like a Snake he sought out the designated prey and struck and once the job was done he was paid, simple life simple money.

Faking the face of morality was something else, agreeing whenever his murders came up on the news and was discussed by patrons in the bar was easy enough for him as the little soul he had left that was tucked safely in a glass box that kept him from really letting lose with his job.

And it always left him conflicted at the end, it was not like the people he killed were good people or innocent victims with a clean sheet so why were they given sympathy just because they were killed....they have killed more than him..So in the back of his mind he always laughs at the hypocrisy.

Killing a killer was wrong...it made him laugh.

Maybe that's why he slipped away from humanity just a little to allow himself that sweet pleasure of killing someone who equally deserved death as he did.
He had heard that looking up to serial killers was because the person was too scared to do it themselves but he drew the line there he never looked up to serial killers he never looked up to anyone, they deserved their death he was sane enough to know what they did was wrong but he what he did was....different?

He killed killers...not the innocent and if he was asked to kill an innocent then the person who asked would be the one dead.

On one particular night he looked through his glass collection all clean and dry each ready for a different customer to drink the sweet burning poison that would soon fill the glass walls. But his first patron caught his eye, black everything about him screamed the color from his hair to his clothes to color of the lipstick he wore.

Sitting at the furthest seat from where Hongjoong worked at he didn't ask for a drink seeming lost in thought as he sat down. Hongjoong got himself ready preparing a glass and cleaning it once more as he walked to his patron. His scent was nice too, very odd for Hongjoong to pick up on that but it was the first thing to reach him as he walked to the male the first very distinct thing, it was thick with an underlying sweetness if he had to place it as a distinct thing it reminded him of the smell of gardenias.

"What can I offer you today?"

He spoke softly making his way to the blanked man, dull eyes focusing on him as he reached the counter. Hongjoong found fascination in the man's eyes, the smell of gardenias only spiking as the man sat up to look and scrutinize him, after the simple look up and down he seemed satisfied he had a sweet face very slim and full with high cheeks and round eyes.