Bloodlust. The need to kill. It overcomes him every time he walks through a crowd of people. They are staring at him. Giving him weird looks. But not because they know who he is. What he is. What he does for pleasure. For the pure fun. But because he is different than most people. He's tall. His whole body is covered with tattoos. He has piercings in his face and his hair color has a special shade of dirty green and they are always wild, tousled in every direction. His jeans are always ripped and the black boots. He's mostly wearing tees and a black leather jacket that already looked pretty fucked up from being worn too much. They don't accept him. But they don't have to. He doesn't need them. If they only knew. When he was sixteen he killed his first victim. It was an accident. He never meant to kill her. But after it was done he didn't feel bad, he liked it. Amanda, she was eighteen. When she tried to end things with him, he got mad. They got into a fight and he shoved her down the stairs. She must have break her neck or something. He didn't even care, he took her body and buried her in the dead of the night out in the woods. He couldn't stop thinking about it. Killing. So he did it again. A month after his first kill.
Over four years he killed people. Mostly girls. Girls he knew. Girls who picked on him or girls who said they didn't want him. No one ever thought about him when those girls got missing. He haven't had a new victim in almost two month. If it wasn't for his current girlfriend, you, he already would have wasted another life. But you keep him sane. You keep him on the right track. If there even is one. You and him have been close friends since pre school. You now everything about him. Everything but the fact that he kills people out of the pure fun and rush of power and adrenaline he gets each time the life leaves the eyes of the victims. You know through what he was going. Absent father. Abusive mother. Never enough money. Poor circumstances. A fucked up live. But you were there for him no matter what. You got together a couple of month ago and you are the only thing that keeps him calm. You keep him from going insane. As he walked through the crowd of people in the mall he got weird looks from people once again. The hood of his dark jacket hung over almost all his forehead, trying to blind out everyone and everything around him. He stopped at a little shop to buy some cigarettes and a new lighter when he heard some girls chattering a few feet next to him. He glanced over to them and recognized one of these girl as his ex girlfriend. Or more like ex sex friend. He dumped her right before he met you. They haven't talked since. The girls kept giggling while they started at him. Those bitches. If they won't stop, they'll be next. They better watch out.
He payed for his purchase and walked into the direction of the girls. He almost passed them when she said "Hey Michael. How's it going?" he stopped his tracks and turned to face them. "Why do you care?" he snapped at her. All the girls started giggling and then she said "I don't. You see, I just told my girlfriends here how bad you are in bed. And how your little friend down there, literally little, never pleasured me. I always faked you know." She laughed and pointed to his crotch. He clenched my jaw and balled his hands, which he was hiding in the pockets of his jacket, into fists. She shouldn't have said that. She shouldn't have. He shot her one last look before he stormed off without another word. He felt the blood pumping in his veins and bloodlust overcame him. It hit him so hard and he couldn't shake it off anymore. He ran outside and took a deep breath, trying to think about something else. But he couldn't. Every time this feeling to kill overcame him, he called you and that's what he did now. He dialed your number and waited for you to pick up the phone. One beep. The second beep. A third one. Four...Five...Six...Seven beeps. Mailbox. Fuck. He checked the time and realized it was 11.48 am which means that you're were still in class. He took another deep breath and lit up one of the cigarettes he just bought. With shaking hands he took the cigarettes between his fingers and blew out the smoke that build up in his mouth. He almost calmed down when he saw her leaving the mall with her noisy friends. He threw the cigarette on the ground and unsuspiciously followed them. Luckily they didn't have a car. It was a simple thing to follow them. They didn't have a clue. She will regret talking shit about him in front of her friends. She won't ever be able to talk again after he is done with her. That fucking bitch. Twenty minutes he followed them around the town. Two of her friends stayed at a small coffee shop, the other one got pick up by her mother. Now she was alone. He knows for a fact that she had to walk down a dark alleyway to get to her house. It's a shortcut she always took. He followed her like a shadow in the night.
