Evanescent

- Chapter 1 -

The Darkness

-

Song:
Who is She? - I Monster

-

          The only time I know that I'm alive is when I'm snuffing out someone else's light. I've gotten into bit of a bad habit of that lately. I know I'm escalating, chasing a high, just waiting for a release. A rubber band to snap. The ball to hit the floor. I should be proud that I've started to make the news, similar fucked up people who have been in my career choice seems to revel in it. I thought that it would excite me or give me some sort of thrill, but it doesn't. 

         I stop by the bright light of the TV that's playing the local news, the glow of the TV illuminating the dimly lit street. This investigator, Detective Cole, is starting to piss me off. He gets on the TV and makes grandiose statements, like that he's begun working with the FBI to create a character analysis of me, making promises to the grand metro area that he will put an end to the serial killer that's stalking his streets. I can't help the slight chuckle that comes out more like a huff. When the hunter becomes the hunted. He's a pompous prick. He's no different from everyone else, looking down on me, and it's pissing me off. If I wasn't hoping that this game that we're playing may give me some sort of satisfaction, then I would just kill him off as well. I start to walk off when the newscaster starts to go into detail about some other fucking bullshit that doesn't matter. Boring. Everything is just so fucking boring.

          I retrieve my hands from my pockets to pull the edges of my hood flush against my ears, trying to do a better job of concealing the frosty wind from nipping at my ears... with the added benefit of hiding myself from all of the milked faces of the passersby's who walk past me trying to avoid me. Do they see through me? Can they smell the rot that's coursing through my blood? I'm shuffling through the muddy snow, my thick boots making a satisfying crunch with every step I take down the hardly lit city sidewalk. I glance over my shoulder at the woman who pushes past me laughing on the phone, her long colorless trench coat swaying in the gusts of wind carrying on like I wasn't even there. Maybe I'm a ghost. A demon. No matter how long I tried to study her features in those spare seconds they resembled an oil painting that had been blurred by someone's hand. I think maybe she made some sound that could've been her cussing at me, but I didn't hear her clearly. I can't remember the last time that someone's face was memorable enough for my conscious to put in the effort to even try to recognize it. My mind wanders, trying to decide that if I followed her down the dark alley that she just crossed into behind me, and if I cracked her skull open, could I see the color of her thoughts? Would she apologize to me then? Do thoughts, or apologies, come in color?

           Peering around me trying to make sure that there would be no witnesses, I let my curiosity get the better of me, letting a crooked smirk come across the side of my face at my decision. I turn around and edge around the corner to stalk behind the woman down the alley. The alley itself is perfect, all old chipped red brick stretching cross the length of the buildings on both sides. Trashcans litter the sides, garbage overflowing. The sour smell permeates the crisp winter air. It's deliciously dark, with the only light spilling over from the signs on the main streets this alley intersects.  She probably thought that she was going to take a shortcut through this short alleyway, no doubt that she probably just got off work and poised to go home. Sucks that she won't make it past the next couple feet ahead of her.

           She's wearing tall, heeled boots which is an interesting choice to me considering the inches of snow on the ground. I picture the sound of her bone snapping as it surely would do once she tries to run away from me, and I hum to myself quietly in approval. The woman makes another sound then another that I can almost make out as a goodbye, and I can see her lower the phone from her ear and deposit it into her trench coat's pocket. Her hair swaying back and forth across her back, long loose waves that I could wrap my hands around a couple times. I pull my weapon from my hoodie pocket, its silver gleam reflecting from the neon lights off of nearby buildings. My hands are becoming sticky with the building anticipation as she slows her paces... does she feel my empty soul starting to surround her? My smirk raises, but still not quite meeting my eyes. I tilt my head at her, wondering when she'll realize that she's not alone. Ah, my prey. She wraps her arms around her middle and almost comes to a complete stop, slowly turning around to face the side of the alley that she just came from, except that I'm not there. I almost feel sorry for her, she's just so fucking stupid. She turns back around, shaking her head to herself and making a sound that I can almost make out as a huff of a laugh over the staticky hum in my ears.  I creep out from the darkness, stalking towards her faster as she's nearing closer to the end of the alley and cross back into a more public street.