Through words

Chapter 7

Jagged breathing, red smudged skin, ice cold veins. I had pressed too hard, she was dead. Cursing to myself, I began to take my anger out on her crimson stained corpse. It jolted every time I brung my hammer down and I smacked, it made me think she was still alive.

My anger would immediately spike when I saw the dead look in her eyes though. I was angry at a lot of things, myself for killing the girl too soon, the girl for dying too soon, and the stupid, white haired, air-con fixing, old lady conversing, blind bitch.

She was the reason I was out here. "You should hate her too," I spat at the brunette's face. "If it weren't for her, you're still be whoring yourself around that bar," I delivered another hit, this time directly to her nose. I stopped, panting and blood covered to listen to the satisfying crack I received as her face caved in on itself.

"That'll do," I hummed, already reaching for the shovel I kept by my side. "Nightly night," There was a diner on the corner that I often visited. I had memories of my mother and I sharing a burger there but the main reason I went there was because they didn't care.

They didn't care if you walked in covered in mud from head to toe, they didn't care if you had cuts on your arms and blood under your nails. All they wanted was your money and for my sake I hope it stayed that way.

Black and white checkered flaws, red, cracked leather couches and the smell of grease greeted me as I stepped through the small, glass windowed door. Families and broke teenagers littered the tables, laughing and being obnoxious. I could only come here after a kill.

It was the only way I could keep myself sane, well sane in my own sense. As usual, I wondered over to a table right at the back where the overhead light had long since stopped working. It was cold back there due to it being close to the fridge and was a good place to survey the people who walked in.

I had been seated for about fifteen minutes before someone decided to serve me. It was a young girl in fishnet tights, bright blue makeup and a bright red apron. I hated her. I hated her too much to even think about killing her, I'll leave that job to someone else.

"A coffee and fries," I mumbled, ignoring her annoying smirk. Yes, I was attractive, but once people were around me for longer than a minute they started to sense something was wrong. I liked to call it fight or flight, what can I say? I just have that kind of effect on people.

Another fifteen minutes had passed and I still hadn't received my order, I was beginning to feel agitated and that was never good. When a loud thump sounded from across from me, I nearly pulled my knife out.

"So...serial killer?" I snapped my head over to see a white-haired blurry eyed girl, much to my distaste. "What?" I laughed, although I'm pretty sure my eyes shouted, 'keep talking and I'l kill you,' She ignored my invisible threat, tentatively placing her chin in her palm.

"Your aura," she stared at me, expecting me to have some clue as to what she was talking about. I was about to tell her to fuck off, when I remembered my plan of romancing her.

After all a kill without a challenge is as satisfying as being impaled, it's much better being the impaler. "Do go on," I hadn't meant it to come off as sarcastic but I wasn't quite used to being genuinely polite.

If she had picked up on mny unintentional rudeness, she hadn't shown it. "It's black," she stated, twirling her finger around the rim of her glass. "Particularly near your brain," She continued, fixing her blank stare on me. I had seen the life leave so many eyes but I had never seen a dead person look as dead as her eyes did, it intrigued me.

How could someone look so dead, yet be so alive. Curious, I wrapped my pale hand around her wrist, I considered breaking it for a second, I imagined the cry she would release and the emotion that would show through those dead eyes. Fear.

Instead, I gently placed my thumb against her pulse, feeling the slow thrumming of her heart. "It suggests mental illness," She finished, still looking directly at me. "Do you really believe in that though?" I asked, a jolt of nervousness surging through me. "Yes, it is, after all how I see." An eerie smile graced her face in that moment as she precisely reached towards her glass, tipping it up and downing its contents. "Everything has some form of outline, for humans it's called an aura, and you sir, have the aura of a serial killer.