Cruising with a Killer

Prologue

 Prologue

Twirling the blade between my fingertips, I closely examine the file once again. Scanning my eyes over the dark lettering, I imprint the sentences in my mind, memorizing every detail of the profile laid before me. I wanted to make sure I had all the information. All the facts.

After all, this was sure to be a vacation no one would forget.

I flip to the itinerary section and study it. The cruise was 10 nights long. It was on the Oasis of the Seas, one of the biggest and grandest ships in the world. Conveniently, I, myself, have sailed on it twice previously and have already memorized the layout of each floor. I could recite which facilities were located on which floor in order from both top to bottom and bottom to top.

Fortunately for me, it would be his first time sailing. An inexperienced teenager in my hands. Throw in a couple of his friends and we'll have the most fantastic party ever.

But I'll be calling the shots.

I close the itinerary and pull up his police records. When I have to, erm, "deal" with someone, I always want to get to know them.  It just makes the kill feel more personal, more triumphant, and much sweeter. My eyes quickly glimpse through his record. Overall, it was a typical teenager's record. Mostly filled with driving tickets for speeding, a few other squibs here and there; but, to me, the only thing that mattered was that he hadn't spent time in juvie. My gaze locked in on a an extremely close call in court. Thankfully he didn't. All is well as long as he did not set foot in any sort of prison.

Shutting the file, I place my blade squarely on top of it. I gently thrust myself away from the desk by kicking it softly. Getting up, I proceed to find a damp washcloth in the dimly lit room and bring it over to the sink. There were a few specks of rusty red splattered on its edges.

I thought I had cleaned it thoroughly. Sighing in resignation, I rinse it attentively, making certain that all the old bloodstains were gone.

Taking it back to the desk, I start to clean my precious blade in smooth strokes. The pearly white washcloth turned red once again as I remove all evidence that this knife had ever killed.

That I had ever killed.

My teeth clench tightly and my hands form fists. The sound of my heavy breathing filled the room until it was all that was heard. I knew I had to stop thinking about it. I knew it wasn't my fault. That woman had, no, deserved to die.

It wasn't my fault she was born wicked.

Instinctively, my hands reach into my waist pocket to pull out a charm bracelet. My fingers rub each charm in slow, languid circles, memorizing the smooth texture once again.

Bringing my eyes down to the bracelet, I breathe a huge sigh of relief. Whenever I got upset, it was the only thing that made me feel better. My breathing slowly relaxed, my jaw softened.

It wasn't technically a charm bracelet, but I made it. I begin to examine it for the umpteenth time.

A silver chain held all the small charms together. I had cut it out specifically to accommodate the size of my wrist. I considered the chain a charm itself. Shouldn't it be? I cut it out from a drug dealer's necklace after I successfully slayed him. After all, he was my first official kill.

The first actual charm, a tiny, plastic, teddy bear, sparkled in the dim light. My lips cracked into a half smile as I recall the little girl. She was a good kill. It was then that I started to get creative.

After that kill, I started to find out more information on my preys. I knew many things about the next people who died. I could have even been on friendly terms with them.

Their hobbies, interests, families, friends. All filed away in my mental cabinet. There was a story behind each charm. They all represented jobs well done.

I should have made the bracelet long ago. It was a perfect way to indulge in the victories and remember each specific kill like it happened just yesterday. But, like all good ideas, it came later. After I had gained experience.

Opening the first drawer, I take out my newest addition - a miniature book. As I fastened it onto the chain right next to a small dog, my heart takes an excited leap. This was my best kill yet. Who would've thought a hardcover book could have made such an effective weapon? Smiling at the memory, I fasten the charm right next to the old ones. Sighing happily, I placed it back into my waistcoat pocket.

Moving the blade gingerly aside, I pull up his file once more. I already knew a lot about him. He was one of those typical, loud, rambunctious teens that you want to hit with your car and cuss at their dead body. He spent most of this time at a local burger joint on the outskirts of town with his two best friends and girlfriend along with some other third and fourth wheelers.

And who was he?

My next target.

My next kill.

Parry Leverson.

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A/N: Originally, this was going to be a submission for a summer writing course, but since no one there has been showing up, I've decided to just make it my own story.

I won't be posting more until I finish Contained by Love, but since there are presently only two chapters left I wouldnt expect it to take very long.

Oh yes I almost forgot! This was editted by the amazing and talented @audrey88 so special thanks for that!

And thank you @Thursday_ for the wonderful cover!