Crimson Nightmares

Chapter Thirty-one

I took the time to walk to my apartment, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my skin. The walk was short—only about five minutes—but it was enough to clear my head and center myself. When I got there, I headed straight to my room, changing into something more comfortable and casual for the day. I pulled on a pair of jeans with a matching jacket.

I made my way back to the living room, grabbing my jacket and keys on the way. I looked at the time as 2:45 p.m. We had slept in for hours. I quickly grabbed my blood tools and bottles. I walked outside and put them in one of my cars.

I called him and put it on the car speaker. "Hey,"

"Hi, what's up?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I have the equipment, but you need to bring your gun."

"Yup, that sounds good. West Garfield Park, right?"

"Yes, you need the address."

I heard a soft beep. "Nah, I've been there before."

I hung up the phone and started the car, pulling out of the driveway. I put on some music and drove down the busy streets of Chicago. I loved Chicago, the tall buildings, the crime-filled streets, and the empty buildings and streets.

After about ten minutes, I saw him pull up in his car. I waved at him, and he nodded in return, parking a few spaces down. He got out of the car and walked over to me, his steps purposeful and confident. He was wearing the Mafia's leather jacket and blue jeans.

I placed a knife in my belt.

"You're not from around here, are you?" He asked me. His voice was deep and menacing.

"No, we're not," I replied, my voice steady. "We're just here for a little blood collection."

He looked at Gerald, sizing him up. "You don't look familiar either."

I stepped in with a large smile. "Oh, no, we're from the Crimson Mafia." I quickly slipped the knife into his throat and banged him against the wall.

"You're not in the Mafia." The man scoffed.

I leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Your hands are shaking." I slit his throat. Gerald laughed and handed me the tube, and I attached it to the open wound. It sucked the crimson liquid into a bottle. The man dropped to the ground.

"What a mess," Gerald said, shaking his head.

"Let's keep going." I nodded, wiping the blood from my hands onto my jeans. We continued walking through the park, our steps eerily silent despite the sounds of birds chirping and children laughing. We approached another man sitting on a bench, his head tilted back as he basked in the sun. He had a hat over his eyes. "I want this one." Gerald smiled. I nodded and stopped as he walked towards the man.

"Hello, sir, can I have some directions?"

The man took off his hat and looked up at Gerald, his eyes narrowing. "What do you want?"

"Just some directions, sir."

"Fuck off, ask someone else." The man leaned back, placing his hat back on his face. Gerald pulled out his gun and put it toward the man's forehead.

"You need to be nice to strangers. You never know what they can do for you."

The man's hat felt off his head. "You need directions. T-to wear?"

"Well, I've changed my mind. Now I want your blood." He pulled the trigger, and a bullet lodged itself in the man's forehead. Gerald grabbed the tube from me, and I placed it against the wound, sucking the blood out. "That's a shame; you were such a pretty boy." I smiled, wiping the blood off my lips.