this isn't wonderland // luke

one. Luke

"Lucas, remember. Breathe. Keep your eye on the target and aim for the heart or head. Maybe if you hit one, or two, we'll come back some time." My father quietly says as we crouch behind a rather large boulder.

Dad said he didn't want me spending my spare time sitting around doing nothing but eating and sleeping, so he got me off my ass and brought me here.

My breathing alters slightly, trying to calm my racing heart, so I don't miss the deer. I spot the animal through the scope and align the middle of it to the deer's chest, hoping the bullet meets with the heart.

1..

2..

3..

The sound of the gun caused flocks of birds hidden among the trees, to disperse within the air. I take a quick glance through the scope again and the deer was gone. I look to my dad with a look of 'well-there goes-that' written on my face, but his look was the total opposite.

"Holy shit." He whispered as his head snapped towards me. "You hit it! You hit the deer!" He got to his feet- from being on his knees, in a matter of seconds. "Come! Let's go look!"

"Right to the heart, nice job Luke!" He held up his hand, wanting a high five. I bring mine up, ours making clapping sound. "How do you feel? Terrible?" He asks, examining the shot wound closer.

After a few minutes of ambivalence, I commented "Slightly. I mean I had no reason to kill it."

"Her."

"Huh?"

"It's a her. And you're right; you had no reason to kill it, but some things you have to sacrifice in order to get better things." He stated, grabbing the gun from my hand and unloading it. "Want to come back another time?" I thought about it for a moment. The slight feeling of guilt had worn off a few minutes after looking at her.

I smirked. "Why not?"

--

He took me a lot more times. It's been 9 years since he took me for the first time, being 17 now. I still go hunting, just for a different game.

Pulling the black shirt over my torso, I glance at the clock- 11:48 pm. I grab my gun, the razors that I unscrewed from pencil sharpeners, and walk over to my window and open it up. I take a deep breath and climb onto my roof. When I reach the edge of the house, I jump and nearly land incorrectly. I tuck my gun in the back of my jeans and pull my shirt over it, so it gets covered. I walk to the city- not even five minutes of walking, and stay on the sidewalk. I wait and wait for the perfect victim; usually female, mid-20s, even the typical teenage girl. I hide behind a sign displayed in front of a store, and I hear a high-pitched laugh.

"Jenny! No way! You can't just say that out loud in front of him, oh my god." She lets another laugh escape her mouth, and I get up as she passes my hiding spot. I start following her and she soon ends her call with 'Jenny'. We come up to an alley and just before she passes the wall that ends the width of it, I glance around and grab her wrist. She twirls around and I grip her other wrist, opens her mouth and almost yells, but I cut her off with my hand coming across her mouth. She tries to get my hand off by licking and biting, but it's no use. Some people out of everyone I've murdered- and gotten away with- had used the same method. I walk backwards quickly into the alleyway, not knowing if anyone was around to see anything, and I slam her back to the brick wall.

"Shh. It's okay" I coo.

I can tell she's terrified to death, almost quite literally. She's a shaking mess, and I love the sight. She's scared. I remove my hand from her mouth to her throat, squeezing quite a bit; I also let go of her hands so I can access the gun I hid.

"Take what you want, anything!" She tries to speak, but it comes out as barley-audible mumbles.

I chuckle. "Sweets, all I want is you...your expression when I hold up this gun to your head." I do as I say and never have I ever felt so alive. One, two, three tears fall down her cheek.

I lighten my grip so I can hear her pleas. "Please! Please, oh god!"

"Awe, baby girl. God isn't going to help you. Not at a time like this."

"Please don't kill me!" Her sobs are loud and I count to three- I always did, before anyone finds us. I always said it in my head, so they never know when it's going to happen; but I'm feeling a little adventurous.

"1."

"Please, no!"

"2."

"God!"

"3."

"God plea-"

I let her body fall wherever it does. I quickly wipe off the gun with my shirt and place it in her hands, using the shirt to hold it so I don't put my finger prints on it again. I dig into my pockets in search for the razors I had picked apart from the innocent pencil sharpeners. I quickly take them out and scrap them against her wrists in attempt to convince anyone who finds her that the sudden death was no one's fault but her own; for I always make my killings look like suicides. It's a win-win for everyone.
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(A/N: Hello wow what a very weird yet... well weird beginning. I will warn you; my writing is pretty terrible so sorry. )
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