Killer vs Killer

Chapter Three - Killer vs Killer

Nothing happened for some time. It could've been after days, or it could've been the very next moment when the smile widened. The man understood me just like I understood him. At that moment, no two people knew each other better than we did. It was a silent agreement. We were impressed by each other, admired each other, and communicated with just a smile. We didn't say anything, but if we had, we probably would've said, 'It's gonna be prodigious'.

He pulled the blinds shut again; thus began our game. I felt him move. I slowly, sneakily walked backwards into the bedroom and shut the door. I walked to the other door and shut that as well. If I knew him, he would wanna end this quickly, no matter how much he enjoyed this, which meant that I had to be patient. I curled up in a corner from where I could see both doors. And if he entered from one, I could get out from the other.

Time passed. The only thing I could hear was the ticking noise from the clock on the wall, like it was a referee for our game and was keeping track of the time. 'But isn't that true for all of us?' I thought. 'The time is a referee for the stupid little game we call 'Life'. It keeps track of all of our choices. One bad decision and the game's over.' One of us was going to make a wrong choice tonight.

Suddenly, I heard the lock click open on my left. The killer must've taken the kitchen route. I slowly got up and was ready to walk out the other door, but he didn't enter the room. I had my hand on the knob of the door, and I was waiting when I felt the knob turning in my hand.

He was just outside the door.

I quickly let go of the knob and got back in the corner. Once again, I heard the lock click open. I waited, but nothing happened. So, the man was playing with me. He wasn't in a hurry at all. He was taking his time. So I didn't know him the way he knew me, so to beat him in his game, I had to be 'not me'. And just when I was considering being impulsive, the clock on the wall chimed. I knew that that was my chance.

I walked through the door to the other bedroom but didn't go in. I turned right and walked straight into the kitchen. If I wanted to turn this game around, I needed a weapon. I couldn't do it my way. I was looking for something to work with, like a knife, when I felt him—in the kitchen, and before I could even think of something, I heard a knife sliding out of the knife block. He was thinking the same thing. I grabbed the first thing and ran out as fast as I could.

I tucked it under my shirt and ran through the passageway, the rear bedroom, and the front bedroom, and I was back in the corridor—right next to the exit. In front of me was the living room. I looked into the darkness, and a thought popped into my mind. The killer had me in the dark, but he couldn't hide in the light. He wouldn't be able to play his game if I could see him. I walked inside the living room, approached the window, and threw my hand to grab the lift cord, but instead, my hand grabbed something else; something big, sweaty, and cold—his hand.

That was the second time I felt my heart in my chest. Perhaps, The killer did too. This was his final move. He had got me, and the game was over. I heard him slashing his knife. There was no kidding around; I ran for my life. I ran past the two bedrooms and the boundary that separated the open part of the house from the dead-end at the far end opposite the living room. I was standing at the end, staring at the wall. On my right was the bathroom, and on the left was the storeroom. He was probably inching his way towards me. Now there was nowhere to go. I opened the bathroom door but didn't enter. I left the door open, got into the storeroom, and shut the door.

I was standing in complete darkness, unable to see even my hands, when I heard him, more like I felt him. It seemed like he was gliding toward me. Now he was standing just outside the door. I was thinking. If he goes into the bathroom first, he will have his back to me. And that would be my only chance. But unfortunately—for him—I smiled—he was thinking the same thing. Suddenly he threw the door open and grabbed my neck. I could hear him breathe. It was pitch black, but I knew that he was smiling, and without saying anything, without any prompt, he plunged his knife into my stomach except—

It didn't go in; the knife clinked on the pan under my shirt. He was taken aback by sudden developments, which he wasn't expecting. I didn't waste any time.

"Uh-oh," I said to his face, grabbed the knife, turned it around, and pushed it in. I wanted to see his face, but I couldn't. I could only hear him gasping for breath. I didn't wanna take any chance, so I gave the knife another twist. I felt it squishing his tissues. I heard the blood gushing out of his body. My hands were all covered in it. He finally fell to the ground with a thud and stopped moving. Now, the game was over.

"I was right, this is—" I finished what I was going to say just before he had cut the power, "—so messy."

I couldn't even celebrate my victory because I heard a car pulling up in the driveway.

"Shit, they are here, and I don't even have time. Ugh! The bastard ruined my plan." I looked at the dead man. There was only one thing I could do now. I pulled the knife out of his chest, wiped it on his clothes and dashed to the door.

I hid behind the door and smiled because I knew that now, nobody would ruin my evening. After all, there were only two serial killers in the city that night. One was lying dead in the storeroom, and the other was standing behind the door, holding a knife in his hand—smiling.