5SOS Book of Imagines

LRH // Killer (3)

LUKE'S POV

I led her inside the house, inside my hideaway. 

The voice in my head was whispering things I could do to her, things I could do to her body, my mind quickly imagining her on the floor, a fresh pool of blood around her. The monster bared its fangs.

Shaking my head, I tried to clear my dark, wayward thoughts. She's a friend--well, sort of. I convinced myself, my monstrous, hideous self that she was a friend and that I must not harm her. Even if it hurts me.

"Why does it reek here?" she said as we entered the deserted house.

I looked at her scrunching up her nose in disgust as the revolting smell enveloped both of us. I knew what the smell was, dried blood. A part of me was embarrassed, I wanted to push her out of the house and not let her look at me again. Another part wanted to make her the reason why the place is gonna reek of fresh blood again.

Struggling to keep my sanity in check, I led her to the nearest room, to where I stay. I watch her gasp as she take in everything. The newspaper clippings, the variety of high technology gadgets and computers, the photos. Now that somebody else was here in my room, it suddenly dawned on me that it was scary. Psycho stalker scary. Well, that's what I was.

She was silent the whole time, walking into my room and studying the apparatuses, examining the clippings of the recent murders.

"So you did kill them? Luke?" her voice was shaking, fear evident in her voice.

The monster was laughing at the fear in her voice, it reveled in it, it loved being feared. But I, I was ashamed. I was a monster, or there's one inside me, and I can't stop it.

"Y/N, I need to tell you something. Will you listen?" I couldn't help the tinge of hopelessness in my voice. For once, I wanted someone to understand the way I am, but seeing how Y/N took in my room, maybe I was doomed to be hated by her. I deserved to be hated, after all. I'm a monster. A killer.

YOUR POV

The fear inside you reflects in Luke's voice. 

He looked helpless, lost as you were. He was standing in the middle of the room facing you and it was scary how he easily blended in with the surroundings, how his black hoodie fitted perfectly to the scenario in your head, Luke stalking his victims all over the city before killing them, the method for killing even explicitly drawn in paper. It was revolting, but the fear in Luke's voice right now spoke of a different person. Like he was scared of himself.

"Yes. Explain this, Luke, please," you found yourself saying. Not only curiosity but also concern as you see him being so torn as he decided whether telling you was a good thing after all, that bringing you here was a good decision after all.

Luke walked towards the bed in the corner, also full of scrap paper with doodles of black and red ink, conjuring disturbing images. He sat and beckoned you to sit beside him. So you did.

"There are," he drew a long, hesitant breath before continuing, "voices in my head. They make me want to hold sharp things, to slash them in things to draw out blood, they make me want to kill."

You gulped but didn't make any comment, allowing him to tell you more.

"There are times that I feel like an outsider in my own body, like somebody else is taking over and doing things and I let him, because I am him. The monster's a part of me." He choked on his words and you looked at him to see a tear falling down his left cheek, his eyes were wide and unfocused, hands shaking on his lap.

Without hesitation you put your arms around him, feeling so much raw anguish with the way he held himself, at that moment wanting nothing else but to ease the vast pool of pain reflecting in his eyes.

"No, don't touch me," he croaked. "I'm a monster. I'm hideous."

"You're not. You're just--" you struggled to find words to explain his situation. 'You're just having issues, Luke. That's all."

He pulled away, the emotions dancing in his eyes causing you confusion. Fear. Anger. Then, anguish, then, a hint of craze. It's like he's constantly switching from two moods.

Pulling a deep breath, he pried your arms away from his waist. "You don't understand. This isn't an issue. This is me. I'm a killer, I don't like it, but I can't stop it. This is me."

'"Luke, you just needed someone to talk to because you've become so lonely--"

"NO! STOP! You know what, I'll tell you something. Do you know that right now, I want to fucking strangle you to death? I'm currently feeling a strong desire to get a knife and slash it across your neck and just revel the sight of fresh blood oozing from your ripped veins. I want to hear you scream for your life, I want you to plead me to spare you even when I won't. I want it, Y/N. The monster in me wants it."

You gasped out loud, immediately moving away from him as the emotions in his eyes settled into something unrecognizable. It's like looking in the eyes of a madman.

He spoke again in the same low, calm yet menacing voice, "I want you dead, Y/N. Right now."