I Live For The Chase

Chapter 5

"Having fun there?" He teases. "Careful what you wish for."

I glare at him.

"Get in the car."

I remain stuck in place and consider which option is more idiotic: running as fast as I can, as deep as I can into the woods or getting into the car with a murderer.

Apparently something is wrong with my brain, perhaps it is the cold, but I find myself walking towards the car of the killer and then opening the door and then sitting in the passenger seat.

He starts driving.

"Answer the question, why don't you eat takeout?" He resumes the conversation from before.

"I like knowing what goes in my food. It has nothing to do with you. I cook my own meals, it's what I've always done. And I'm not a killer, don't call me that. I'm not like you."

"You are akin to me in more ways than I can explain."

I don't reply, to tired to give a fuck about any of this.

I look out the window and let fate decide whether I will survive this night or not.

We approach the mainstreets and I start to see some shops.

The car pulls into a 24/7 supermarket. I didn't even know those things existed.

The killer parks the car and then gets out of the car. I open the door and ask, "what are we doing?"

"You're not starving to death on my watch, little killer."

"As if you would care?"

He ignores me and walks into the shops.

I follow behind him for some reason and enter the small shopping center.

He grabs a shopping basket and I catch a glimpse of his hand which has splatters of blood on his fingers. Either he is unaware or he doesn't care and I predict it is the latter. How can he be so calm and composed after killing someone?

I watch him and follow a few feet behind him as he walks into one of the isles in the supermarket.

If it were any other circumstance, I wouldn't blink an eye passing by him in public. Besides his absurd height and commanding presence, he blends into everyday life like anyone else.

Who knows, perhaps I have seen him before? How would I know? Although I am daily certain that I had seen him before I would remember it.

But watching him now, casually strolling through the supermarket like any other person seems wrong. He just shot someone and now he is buying food.

He stops suddenly and I crash into his back. Quickly he grabs my waist and I step back from him, his touch igniting sparks of both terror and something else that I can't put my finger on.

"What do you want?" He asks.

"Excuse me?"

"To eat."

"Are you being serious?"

"Why would I be joking?" He replies with a blank stare.

"You're a killer, maybe teasing food in front of a starving girl is amusing to you."

"Killers need to eat Katia."

I realize that he really is being serious and he is going to buy me food and then a foreign wave of excitement floods me.

"Get what you want." He says.

So... I do. Whether this is a joke or not, I am still not sure.

We walk through the supermarket and I pile items up in the shopping basket. I get things like canned soup, pasta and muesli bars. Things that will last me a while. Things I live on for a while.