In Love With a Serial Killer

Chapter 1- A Rainy Night

        Even as a child, I found myself looking out the window at the storm that raged outside. The rain crashed against the ground as the lighting and thunder took turns with nature. My attention was taken from the storm to find my mother engaging in yet another tryst with a man she had known for not even a fortnight. He had her against the wall with her hands above her head as they both left her dress carelessly upon the floor. I slowly made my way to the garment and placed it gracefully over the couch as mother asked me to do if this situation were to arise.

        But as I placed it upon the couch, I heard a noise coming from outside. Almost as if someone had been redecorating. Throwing my raincoat over my shoulders, having it cover my dark black hair from the water, and taking my shoes from beside the door that were still wet from me walking home from school-I went toward the noise.

        I soon found it to be coming from the barn. It was about two hundred feet from the house, but enough for my coat to conjure enough water so when I entered the barn, it then dripped profusely onto the floor. As I walked further in, I found that there were footprints on the wooden floor.

        My entire life, I had very few interactions. The ones I did have were either my mother's men of the night or the mailman whom I often found more interesting than my homework and was often caught by mother having adolescent conversations in which she would become angry and order him to leave. So in this instance, I was very curious on who would enter our barn of all places. There were much nicer homes near by with far easier sleeping conditions if that would be this person's motives.

        With each step, my boots squeaked which did not make my attempts of incognito an easy task. But I felt in that moment, the person too wanted interaction. In fact, I noticed in my peripheral vision a figure that seemed to be breathing fast. He was tall and either muscular or fat, it was difficult to tell in the dark. But he seemed to be leaning on the wall.

        I took my cell phone from my pocket as light and "accidentally" discovered him. His expression was as if he were facing the electric chair.

        "You don't need to worry, I won't make you leave." I said, my voice far more soft than intended. I know a young girl in my position should be terrified and not approach a stranger. But I have never been a smart girl.

        My phone gave little light, but enough so I was able to see that he was hurt. Leaning against the post as he held his stomach. I could see a faint crimson stain upon his shirt, but yet I still felt bad for him. No matter what situation he was put in that caused the injury, I just wanted to help him.

        "Let's start with your name...Then we'll get you cleaned up..."

        There was a gleam in his eye that mimicked relief. I cannot say I was not pleased at this. He slowly made his way toward me as I brought him back to the house. He did not seem to mind the rain in which I envied him. This was the first of many times I would. Even though I did not even have a name, I felt as if this were the start of something-a saga perhaps. Something carnal or dangerous even. When I looked at him, he gave me the same feeling as standing in front of a hot stove. The temptation to touch it, just to know-but that danger that you know it will hurt. But with him, I never thought-just acted. This would be my downfall. This would be the end of my sanity.

        I often think back to how my life would be different if I never would have went out that day. But then again, I've never been a smart girl...