Shadows Of Blood - The Shadow Series #1

Chapter 2

THE MASTERMIND 🔪

The night is always the loudest for me. It's when my thoughts crash like thunder in my skull, a cacophony of memories that I've long tried to drown in whiskey. 

You could say my life has been a series of unfortunate events, but that's an understatement. I grew up in a household that felt more like a pressure cooker than a home. My father, a bottle's best friend, and my mother—well, let's just say she danced with the devil in her own way. 

Her smiles were often the harbingers of stormy nights, filled with grotesque outbursts and whispers of madness wrapped in veils of sweet nothings. They say you can't choose your family, but I learned early on: sometimes, the escape is more inviting than the reality.

I remember the fire, or at least I think I do.

I was outside, watching the flames lick up the sides of the house like some monstrous beast devouring its prey. I was only fifteen, but in that moment, I felt something close to freedom.

It was just me and the stars as the light flickered across the sky, a purgative force burning away my childhood once and for all. They say it was an accident, but the whispers in my mind tell me it was something else.

Something darker, something that made sense of everything I had been forced to endure. Now, all that's left are the remnants of their chaos, and that bitter taste of ashes that lingers in my soul.

With every drink, I'm reminded of the home I fled—now just a grave marked in memory.

There's a sense of liberation that comes from wielding the knife I once feared, from taking agency over the violence that brewed around me. I've become the shadow they never saw coming, an avenger cloaked in vengeance for just about anyone who crosses my path.

The world needs more than just victims; it needs a predator, and I'm more than willing to play that role. There's power in the chaos, and I embrace it fully, transforming the turbulent girl who once ran from her demons into a killer who dances with them.

As I move through the shadows of the city, the night air wraps around me like a shroud, and the familiar thrill courses through my veins.

Corrupted wealth is my prey, those who have built their empires on the backs of the broken and bruised. They sit in their ivory towers, oblivious to the suffering they sow, thinking themselves untouchable. But I've carved a new purpose from their arrogance, an unwavering resolve to dismantle the very foundations they stand upon. Every glimmering dollar they clutch is stained with the blood of innocence, and I've made it my mission to take it back—one life at a time.

I've traded the sting of whiskey for the sharp grace of cold steel, and now, every encounter is an exhilarating dance where I write my own rules. Their greed blinds them to the predator lurking in the shadows, a specter born from the ashes of a broken past.

I see their kind for what they truly are: gluttons feasting on despair while policing the very dregs of society they benefit from oppressing. In each strike, I feel a release, like reclaiming a part of the child I lost in that suffocating house. No more do I cower in fear; now, I wield the weapon fashioned from my suffering.

The thrill of the hunt is intoxicating, and with each victim, I reclaim a fragment of my lost identity. I become their reckoning—a ghost of sorts, a name whispered among the elite. They say justice is blind, but in my world, it wears a cloak of vengeance.

I relish the irony, the way their privileged lives crumble under the weight of their own corruption. Their sins echo through the night like a thunderstorm, and I am the bolt that strikes fear into their complacent hearts.

In this twisted game of predator and prey, I am no longer just a victim of circumstance. I've become the storm, the loudest voice in the night, drowning out the chaos of my childhood and replacing it with a symphony of retribution.

It's not just about the killings; it's about balance.

For every corrupted soul I extinguish, I feel a flicker of light return to the world they've darkened. Each act is a reminder—of who I was, of who I've chosen to become. And with those thoughts, I slip into the shadows, prepared for whatever darkness lies ahead, for I am the hunter in this relentless night.

As I merge deeper into the city's veins, the pulse of the night thrums in sync with my heartbeat, a rhythm only I can hear. The streets murmur secrets, and with every footfall, I can almost taste the anticipation hanging heavy in the damp air.

The world sees me as a mere phantom—a flicker of movement in their periphery—but in this dance of death, I have become something far more dangerous: a harbinger of chaos. My artistry is the calculated chaos I unleash, and my weapon is the perfectly executed strike against the corrupted elite. They may hide behind their gilded walls, but every extravagant party, every ostentatious display, becomes a stage for my performance, a canvas that awaits the strokes of my chaotic brush.

There's a glee that bubbles within as I picture their shocked faces when their fragile worlds implode. Perhaps it's a touch of madness, but in a city steeped in greed, isn't it the insane who hold the power?

I am the confetti in their grand parade, the disruption that spirals their well-crafted lives into disarray. They clink their glasses, toasting to prosperity built upon the suffering of the weak, oblivious to the storm brewing just beyond their manicured lawns.

Oh, how delightful it is to peep behind the velvet curtains, revealing the grotesque puppetry of their elite lives. They are content to consume, but soon, they will find themselves consumed.

And there lies the sweet irony of my existence—I, who was once the prey, now lead the dance. Each encounter sharpens my resolve, each triumph solidifies my purpose. The danger electrifies me, like a whisper of madness brushing against my ear, sweetly urging me to delve deeper into the abyss. I find solace in their fear, and perhaps a dark thrill in their despair.

With every shattering of their illusory world, I reclaim the fragments of my past and sculpt them into a new identity—an entity born from vengeance, yet kindled by a twisted sense of justice. Revenge is but one thread strung together with threads of liberation; I am liberating the pain of the forgotten, the wounded, and the oppressed.

With each passing night, I solidify my legacy in the shadows, etching my name into the nightmares of those who think they can evade consequence. And when I finally disappear into the darkness, a giddy satisfaction lingers—because I know the night remains teeming with my potential mischief.

As the first light of dawn seeps into the city, they awaken to their despair, that slow, dawning realization sinking in like ink on damp paper. I leave behind a haunting echo of their recklessness, a mirthful grin curled on my lips as I wander deeper into obscurity.

For I am not merely a hunter; I am the mastermind, and with every string I cut, the dance of chaos takes on a life of its own. The night belongs to me now, an endless realm of shadows and echoes, where I am both the artist and the art—a beautifully chaotic enigma wrapped in darkness.

_____________________________________