Blackout

1) Pandemonium

OWEN LUX WESLEY

I was going to hell.

Granted, I wasn't necessarily there in this present moment, I just knew that in the future I was going to end up in hell with the way I was living my life. But that didn't really matter. I enjoyed seeing people in pain. I liked blood. I thrived on control. I prospered under the suffering of other people.

Did that mean I was afraid of going to hell? I couldn't tell you that. Actually, I could, because I'm not afraid of anything. I think the only thing I'd ever be afraid of is myself, and even then I can't see that happening. I just love myself and what I do too damn much. By now, I bet you're wondering, what do I do?

Well, isn't that the grand question...

"Excuse me, miss," I said, bending down to grab a bundle of papers from the ground. "I think you dropped something." My eyes meet a woman who seemed to be in her mid-twenties. Brown eyes widened once she noticed the papers in my hands and snatched them away, her shoulder length dark brown hair shuffling wildly as she shoved it in her purse.

"Thank you," She rushed out. She turned to leave and my mind wracked a way to keep her here without seeming like a creep. People in New York City, especially women, had a tendency to think any interested guy was a creep. It was quite annoying, but it's not like you can change that mentality, especially in this generation.

"Were those papers important?" The words stumbled passed my lips before I could give them much thought. I inwardly winced at how intruding they sounded, hoping that my expression didn't betray how stupid I was acting. I was usually better at holding a conversation―I actually make it my mission to be exceptional at it. I just don't know why I was getting so flustered by someone I quite literally just met. Besides, she truly was beautiful. She sported a kind of messy persona, but I liked it. Who wasn't messy in this kind of city?

"I'm sorry," She said, brown eyes locking with mine as she stopped. Her gaze was tread towards something behind her, but at least she was still standing in front of me. She was distracted. "I'd love to stop and chat, but I really have to get going." I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or genuine. I did notice that she had a slight accent, but I couldn't pinpoint its origin. It was exotic.

"Will I see you again?" Again, the words spilled from my lips before I could control it. I felt my cheeks warm up and she gave me a tentative smile, teasing me with a glimpse of her straight white teeth. I was glad that I was still able to control such factors even in my flustered state. Why am I flustered in the first place? This is new to me.

"How about this," she proposed, glancing once more at something behind her. "If we manage to see each other again, I'll give you my number."

"In a city as big as this?" I doubted, slightly glad that something intelligible came out of my lips. "I don't think I want to take that chance. May I at least get your name?" Smooth. I liked it. She seemed to like it, too.

"Lynn," Her tentative smile broadened into a full smile before her frazzled persona came back in a flash as she looked to something behind her. I brushed away my irritation, knowing fully well that I needed to keep up this façade just slightly longer. I still haven't decided whether I wanted to kill her or not. I mean, she was rather on the pretty side. I bet in a few weeks we'd be in a relationship, but that was if I didn't get the urge to kill her or not. I'd probably not feel anything if we were to be in a relationship anyway, but that was not my primary concern. The only emotion I've ever felt is satisfaction whenever I see blood splattered all over my victims' faces. Blood that I've extracted after stabbing them multiple times.

I just realized I forgot to answer your question. I'm a professional murderer. It doesn't sound as quirky as I would've liked, but it's not like I can think of something better. Besides, I haven't even put that much thought into it.

"That's a beautiful name, Lynn," I complimented. I sensed that she was about to say goodbye, so I parted my lips to speak again. "My name is Lux. Is it alright if I walked you to wherever you are going?"

"Is that so you can see me again?" She caught onto my plan and I forcibly flushed, secretly clenching my jaw. Her observation meant that she caught onto things faster than the average person which led me to suspect that she was most likely a cop. I shoved my hands into my pockets and she watched me do it. I bet she was probably thinking I was reaching for a weapon, but judging by the smile on her face, she was most likely edging her doubts away. That was a good sign. But then again, my suspicions were only right if she was a cop.

"You caught me," I chuckled. "Is it a crime if I want to get to know you?"

"No, not necessarily," Lynn chuckled with me. "I'm sorry, but I really have to go."

"Alright, I'll let you go," I said reluctantly. But just because I was saying goodbye did not mean that I would not let her go. Lynn has caught my interest, and when things catch my interest I never let them go. I toyed with them until I lost interest. And when I did lose interest, I killed them. I liked that part the best.

Lynn began walking away and I took that moment to admire her from afar. She was on the short side, although she was taller than the average woman. I was 6'1 and she appeared to be 5'9. She had long legs that seemed to be sculptured to perfection, wide hips, and a thin waist. The only thing that ruined it was her short, messy, and unkempt hair, but I knew that I could change that if I truly wanted to. I felt the familiar surge of excitement palpate beneath my heart as my mind wracked through the possibilities of what I could do to my dearest Lynn. I could only hope that she wasn't a cop, as that would complicate things tremendously, but it would make things more exciting. But what could I say?

I loved the rush. And that, my dear reader, is why that when I die, I would be going to hell. 

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