The Deal Of Playing God

***1***

Her face was red, puffy, and streaked with tears. Her long, curly blond hair had long since been dyed with mud and caked with blood. She used to be pretty. A nice, kind girl. Now all the purity was washed away to reveal a terrified girl with no chance in hell of surviving.

"Please, Stacey you don't have to do this!" she choked out between her sickening sobs. She was panting and gasping for breath as she realized she had cornered herself.

"I do, actually. You're one girl. If I kill you I could be saving hundreds of others." I replied with the same ease I usually used.

"You know he's taping your every move, showing the world what you've become."

I rolled my eyes and pulled out the knife that he had gave me on my first day.

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard it all before. I really don't want to do this, but you and I both know he'll kill more then just a few if I let you go. He'll rampage."

The same look of terror crossed her face as I had seen on all the others. That's right, she's not the first person I've murdered.

Ever since I was took from the park three years ago, I've been fighting to save the kids I went to school with. That was our deal: I kill whoever he happens to drop in my den, and he spares killing anyone from Harris High. That way, my school stays safe.

"Please Stacey. Please!" she cried again. She had seen me inching my way toward her, instead of taking pity on her.

"I'm really sorry." I managed to whisper before I plunged the long, sharpened knife into her chest.

I then walked away, barely holding back the tears that I knew would come later. He could clean up the mess, I decided. He makes me do this to young adults, ready to live their lives, so He should be the one to clean it up.

***

I slipped into my dining clothes and made my way down into kitchen. He was already sitting, his hands pressed together in prayer.

"Well, Ms. Stacey Collins. It sure took you a long time to clean yourself up." he said looking up from his praying.

I studied him. He was usually like this. Assuming I can wash blood off my only good clothes in a matter of minutes, then have enough time to shower and do my chores. It made me hate him all the more.

"If I didn't have to kill anyone, I wouldn't need to clean up, would I?" I asked with pure sarcasm.

His hand shot up fast, catching me off balance. When it connected, I spat out blood. Every time he smacked me harder. Every time I lost the hope of escaping.

"Don't talk to me like that!" he screeched through his gritted teeth.

I put my head down and managed my best to choke down the last of the terrible meal. Then, I stood and walked back to my room.

***

The walls were decorated with the news clippings I had kept about my disappearance. There were only a few that had sounded genuinely concerned. After a week or so, when he had started sending in the videos, they changed from: "Help Find Missing Local Girl" to "Serial Killer Wanted." They had meant me, not him.

The idea sickened me. He was forcing me to do this for the people I knew. I didn't enjoy this at all. He did, though. He killed the ones that annoyed him, and I did the dirty work of killing the ones with a good soul. That's how it always went.

Feeling the weight of the day pull me down once again, I flopped down into my bed.

It wasn't anything special, but at least it was something. In movies and stories, all you hear about is how terrible it is being kidnapped. Sure, it's terrifying, but sometimes (like in my case) whoever kidnapped you will allow to have things you've never had before. Like me.

I was the quiet girl. No one seemed to give a damn about my life. No one showed interest in me. It was like that since we moved here.

My parents were living off the welfare check. We were completely, absolutely broke. I slept on the floor wrapped in my sweater while everyone else from my school got to sleep in their big, puffy beds. Not that I'm complaining... Oh wait, I am.

Here, other then outside my room, was more easy to live in then my home.

At home, we had to struggle to find something to eat. I still hated it here, but it did come with a few luxuries.

Before long, I had drifted off into a deep sleep.

~~~

The shadows enveloped my thin body with a feeling of insecurity. There was something terribly wrong with the setting.

The sky was just lighting up with the beginning of dawn. The long branches of the trees blocked out every last thought of staying. It was too quiet and the silence was screaming for me to run while I still could. I did as it asked.

After dodging my way through the thick brush, I heard the noise. My head spun around to meet the eyes of a monster. A monitor I knew all too well.

"Please, just leave me alone!" I screamed, trying to pick up my pace. His eyes were cold, yet smiling with amusement.

"Why Stacey? Are you afraid of what you've done to all those other teenagers? Kids who still had their lives ahead of them. You should be ashamed."

A fresh fear overwhelmed me. "No, I never would've done it if you didn't make me!" I yelled back, still running. His eyes changed again, this time, to a dark anger that had become the most familiar part of my life.

Suddenly, the earth began to shake. A white figure pulled itself from the ground and stood ahead of me.

It was her. The first girl I'd ever killed. She was now confronting me with hatred spread over her face.

"Remember me, Stacey Collins? I used to know you. Now I'm dead because of you. It's your turn to pay."

That was the last thing she said before my body crashed to the ground.

~~~

When I awoke, my body was covered in sweat. Tears were rolling down my face, soaking my pillow.

I finally came back to the realization of the dream.

The monster was Him. A shudder ran down my spine and chilled me to the bone. And the ghost girl... that scared me the most. I killed her.

The girl had a family, I knew, and lots of friends. She had been kidnapped with me, only, she wasn't strong enough to kill anything. To Him, she was a waste. So, she became the first part of our deal.

A loud knock sounded at the door to my room.

"Stacey! We have new Shipments!" he yelled. My heart dropped, yet again.

'New Shipments' were new people he brought for me to kill, for him to record.

Even if he let me go, I would never go back to my family. Not even back to town. I was known as 'The Sick Twisted Killer' across the local maps. It was because He recorded my murders and sent them to stations.

The videos were aired, and more and more people began to believe I was doing this for fun. Well, I wasn't. But I had long since run out of empathy. Every now and then I'll feel bad again, only to wish I was back to being emotionless.

"I'm coming!" I yelled and dressed into my track suit. Then I tied my hair up into a simple braid and threw on a warm sweatshirt.

When I walked into the yard that was guarded by the prison fences, I saw the girls chained to a wall with blindfolds covering their eyes. Time to get back into the daily routine, I thought.

"Hello Girls." I say trying to sound much more confident then I really was.

One girl was quivering with fear. "What are you going to do to us?" she asked, on the verge of crying.

I saw the camera through the top window, pointing down at us.

"Hmm, I'm still trying to decide."