long story short (chaennie)

every little lie gives me butterflies

WARNING: This work contains explicit smut and mentions of murder, serial killing, and obsessive/possessive behavior.

***

You were always so... striking. The blonde highlights of your hair like moonbeams in the dark. The way you did your eyes - sharp, serpentine. You always wore those high stilettos and matched them with skintight slacks. Your outfits are carefully chosen - tasteful, professional, but eye-catching.

Eye-catching. You caught my eye the moment you walked into my café. You were in a rush, shoulder bag swaying and a deep green blazer opened to reveal the leather holster of a gun and a shiny badge on display on your belt.

I keep you within my eyesight at all times. The police always made me a bit... jittery. Your people and I don't exactly blend together, I know you'd understand. Vigilance, after all, is the difference between life and death (or worse, imprisonment). When it's your turn to order, you snap out a "Large Iced French Vanilla." all without looking up from your phone. It must be important; you couldn't even tear your eyes away. That's okay. It gives me the time to observe.

"That'll be 2 dollars." I chirp. My face settles on its "work smile", pleasant and friendly. People have described me to be... puppy-like. I wonder if they will still call me that if they know what I do at night. You hand me over your credit card - Jennie Kim - pretty name, and an even prettier face. I liked your face at first glance. I swipe and give you your receipt. "Can I get a name for this order?"

"Jennie."

"Alright, Miss Jennie. One Large Iced French Vanilla, coming right up."

I hear my employees shuffle around as they prepare your order. It's a relatively quiet morning - still too early for the morning rush of students and office workers. I lean against the counter and watch you from the corner of my eyes. You're wearing green nail polish. Your bag had silver buckles on it, and the tie you wore has dogs on it. Cute. You're glaring at your phone while your thumbs fly across the keyboard. I wonder who you're talking to. A friend? Your boss? A boyfriend?

The TV at the corner suddenly plays the soundtrack for the "Breaking News" portion. All the occupants of the café look over as the morning news anchor reports on another death at the hands of Rosé.

"Serial killer Rosé strikes again! Another woman, Stella Yang, 26, was found brutally stabbed to death. Her body was discovered by a group of children in an abandoned warehouse. Besides various stab wounds, blunt force trauma to the head, lacerations all over her torso, and defensive wounds around her arms were evident on Yang's body.

With us, we have Special Agent Taehyung Kim. Agent Kim, what can you say about this gruesome murder?"

So that was her name. Stella. Truthfully, she wasn't my first choice. I wanted her friend. See, I have a particular... type. I liked a certain look and build. It made it more fun when I was over their bodies, choking them or stabbing them to death. Stella's friend fit my type better, but Stella's friend was smarter than Stella. She took proper precautions. Had a large German shepherd sleeping with her, all windows were deadbolts, CCTV on the premises. I could have still taken her, but she was a hassle. Stella though? Stella was the kind of stupid that forgets to lock all of her windows. The kind of trusting and naive that believed the world was kind. I was happy enough to teach her a lesson about the cruelties of this world.

My hands unconsciously clench at the memory of Stella's last few moments on this earth. I look over at the TV and snort at this Special Agent Kim. He was clearly out of his depth, yet the department allowed him to speak for the case. If these were the kind of people handling my killings, I would probably never get caught. I shake my head, what a shame. They won't even make this interesting.