The Life Of A Criminal

"You Better Not Cry, You Better Not Scream"

The night was still, the moon casting an eerie glow over the silent streets. In a dimly lit apartment, a young man sat hunched over his desk, his eyes fixed on the computer screen. By day, he was just another student, blending in with the crowd, his innocent facade fooling everyone around him. But beneath the surface, a dark secret lurked.

As the clock struck midnight, he rose from his chair, a twisted smile spreading across his lips. It was time to indulge in his true passion – the hunt. Donning a dark outfit and a mask to conceal his identity, he slipped out into the night, his senses heightened, searching for his next unsuspecting victim.

The streets were eerily quiet, save for the occasional stray cat or passing car. He moved with a predatory grace, his footsteps silent, his eyes scanning the shadows for any signs of life. And then, he spotted her – a young woman, walking alone, unaware of the danger that lurked in the darkness.

Without a moment's hesitation, he struck, his hands clamping over her mouth, muffling her desperate cries. She struggled against him, but he was stronger, his grip unrelenting. As the life faded from her eyes, he felt a sense of twisted satisfaction, a rush of power that fueled his darkest desires.

The body was quickly disposed of, the evidence carefully covered up. By dawn, he was back in his apartment, a student once more, his mask of normalcy firmly in place. No one would suspect the horrific acts he had committed, the innocent lives he had taken.

But the thrill of the hunt was addictive, and he knew it wouldn't be long before the urge would strike again. The streets were never safe, not when a serial killer lurked in the shadows, waiting to strike. And for those unlucky enough to cross his path, the only warning they would receive was a chilling whisper: "You better not cry, you better not scream."