Known

1📚|He who wears the mask

Three weeks ago, that night.

The night should have never been so cold, not according to the news reporter that is, after a long day of group study and painful lecture sessions the only thing on my mind was going through the door of my apartment building, setting a pot of cocoa on the stove and snuggling into bed with pretty little liars playing on the TV.

For now, though, it's to just walk through the chilly night to get there.

My feet carried me through a small part of Rochester city that led to the street my apartment building was on and still had some semblance of light illuminating it.

I shrugged my jacket tighter and tucked my head into my shoulders as a frail form of protection, from what? The cold, I guess. Though, the city was building up quite the popularity over the last few days as a specific pattern of killings had transpired.

Men between the ages of twenty to forty, that are responsible for heinous crimes have been going missing and then popping up at victims' family homes, police station doorsteps or just dropped off in the streets and alleyways of Rochester.

Though I can't say that killing will ever be justified, unless it is of self-defense, I can commend the man or woman for doing police work and oh how the news have had a field day with that information.

Incompetent police force..

That's been the biggest headline ever since. Now, whether or not this person is only aiming to kill other prolific murderers, that still did not warm the chill that travelled up my spine every now and then or stop me from looking over my shoulder.

A killer is still just a killer no matter the motives.

What if I was mistaken for a murderer and met my demise at the hand of someone no different than me, if I was a murderer that it is.

Not to mention, my so-called boyfriend refuses to leave campus to follow me home, says, 'I'll be fine, things like these only happen to girls like me once in a lifetime'. Whatever the hell that meant.

He's dumb, I get it.

With a face made by the Greek gods themselves, you'd have to give up some brains, right?

I finally made the turn onto my street; I thought my feet couldn't carry me fast enough. However, the breaking of a glass as if someone had thrown it on the ground and the familiar sound of tousling made me halt my steps.

My heart rate sped up, along with my feet, I tried to race forward but the harsh impression of ripping flesh broke my stupor, and I whipped my head in the direction of the sound, a sharp gasp left my lips and my eyes popped out of there sockets when I saw what it was.

I felt frozen to the ground, planted by some unknown force that wanted my eyes to stay plastered on the scene before me, my throat closed up and my late afternoon lunch threatened to come up from the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air.

There in the alleyway beside me, stood a massive void clad in nothing but black from head to toe, holding a writhing man, with blood spewing from his neck.

My prying eyes had the stranger's previous action frozen, a broken shard of glass dug deep into the skin of the man, dragged halfway across his jugular. The man had begun to gargle his blood, his face twisted in agony, fingers stiff, eyes wide as his life flashed before his eyes.

What did I look like in this moment, with my own eyes wide open, mouth agape and tears brimming the edges of my lower lids as the killer watched me with curiosity, they tilted their head to the side, eyeing me like i'd be the next victim after this.

In the spur of the moment the killer finish off his current catch, slashing the neck of the man from one corner to the next, dropping his lifeless form from their hand and discarding the piece of glass on the ground.

The sheer terror on my face as I landed on the ground with a loud thud, hands and butt pressed on ice, that had already begun to burn my skin, must have been amusing to the killer as they let out a deep, raspy chuckle, while standing to their full height.

Broad shoulders, muscular build, I can almost guarantee that this person was a male.

He took a step forward, then another, then thrice the amount until he was crouched Infront of me.

I could see nothing and on any other street, I could have blamed it on the lack of light, but this had nothing to do with lighting. No, this stranger made sure no one could see him. His head was covered by a black mask, a chilling smile plastered on its face, it bore no eyes or nose, it covered his head leaving not one strand of hair out and met as one with the thick trench coat that covered his torso.

His fingers were tucked away with black leather gloves, his lower half covered in black plain jeans and combat boots he sported on his feet. I didn't know in the moment what his motives were as he just stared in my direction.

could he see me? hear me?

I'm sure he could because the evidence was laying in a pool of blood behind him in the alleyway.

would I be next?

the only thing that could be heard in the dead of night were my ragged breaths as adrenaline rushed through my veins. the killer inched closer, and I froze up, breath caught in my throat as the inevitable set in.

yet, he did the unexpected, here I was thinking, I'd met my demise, a piece of glass shard going across my neck or worst, A bullet through my head. Instead, he captured a strand of my curly raven hair between his pointer and index finger, it was like he was feeling the texture through the material of his gloves, then he leaned in, invading my personal space. His warmth enveloped me, and the strong metallic scent of blood mixed with a hint of vanilla filled my senses.

The anticipation was killing me and a shiver ran down my spine at his closeness. We were like this for a while, him invading my space-hair between his fingers and me leaned against my aching arm as I stared in the face of death, fear gripping my spine.

The last thing I remembered before I was granted the once in a lifetime opportunity of escaping the hands of the devil himself was the killer muttering a cold, ominous "boo!" in my ear.

it's the same word that startled me from my sleep, the same feeling of dread crept up my neck and had me frantically looking around my room to see if someone was watching me, if atlas, I'd finally face death.