Crimson Serial Killer

1.3

I woke up around 11am, with a massive headache and an aching in my neck. I was still hungover, severely. I looked at PJ's bed only to find that he wasn't there, but i heard the shower running. Instead of waiting for PJ to be done, I just slipped my shoes back on and headed out. The café was only a 5 minutes walk, I think I can make it without getting jumped. It's also day time, so I'm probably safe. But on the slight chance that the killer was thinking about changing his M.O. i basically jogged the entire way to the café.

I was out of breath when I got to the counter, and Gene, the old lady who always takes my order, was laughing at me. "Boy you should think about joining a sport if a little bit of running has you breathing blood."

"You're probably right. But I'm far too lazy and forgetful for such a commitment."

"You want the usual today?"

"Yes please." I got my wallet out and handed her a $10. She rung up my Caramel frappe with a shot (or two) of espresso. "Keep the change my dear." I told her when she held out $8.02. Her face shone with gratitude and she thanked me, and turned to make my drink.

I played mindlessly on my phone for the few moments it took her to make it, and I nearly shit myself when a loud bang rung in the air, followed with multiple screams of different velocities. The instinct to run never crossed my mind. I didn't dare turn around, because judging by the look on Gene's face, well I just didn't want to turn around. "Should I call 911?" I asked, surprisingly calm. Gene nodded slowly, setting my finished drink on the counter. I sighed and put my phone to my ear, taking the drink and sipping it nonchalantly as it rang.

"911, What's your emergency?"

"Uhh. Give me a second."

"What was that?" I ignored the high pitched lady, and decided I had to turn around to tell her what happened. Okay, now I had to open my eyes. I gasped and for the second time today held in the urge to puke.

"Uh okay, a man, i'm assuming he shot himself. Yea he's dead. So i guess you don't need an ambulance."

"Sir where are you?"

"The college café."

"What college, and what café." I could hear her annoyance.

"Washington University. And I don't know it's just called the café."

"Okay and what is your name and number?"

"Phil. Lester, Phil Lester. And don't you have my number? I'm calling you on it."

"Phil please just tell me your number."

"636-190-2***"

"Thank you. Now can you tell me, is the man who apparently shot himself the only person involved?" I didn't appreciate her sass.

"Yea. One and done."

"Okay, we're sending police to the scene we would like you, and all other witnesses to stay and answer questions, just routine."

"Okay thanks." I didn't wait for an answer and hung up on her. "bitch" i mumbled, averting my eyes from the man lying on the floor, his blood and probably brain matter, freaking everywhere.

I looked back at Gene and saw her face turn pale. "Gene com here lets go outside." She walked around the counter and i instantly held my arm out for her to grab ahold of. People were already starting to crowd around the coffee shop, and i was just getting more anxious at every new warm body that surrounded me.

"Gene i have to go, i'm sorry." I said, flustered. I pushed my way through the crowd, ignoring the growing sound of sirens. I had to get to PJ. He was the only one who could calm me down.

I more or less ran back to the dorm room, sweat running down my back. I crashed through the door, closing it loudly, and leaning against it for support.

PJ looked at me like I was insane, and maybe I was. "Peej i've seen far too many dead people in one week."

"Oh no. What happened this time?" he asked, as if people dying on campus was old news.

"Some guy... he just shot himself in the middle of the café. Who does that?!" I was still having a hard time breathing, my mind racing with images of blood, and glazed over eyes.  "What's is going on here?" I sank to the floor, laying my head on my knees. PJ came and sat down next to me, leaning his head on mine.

"We'll be okay, Phil. I promise. We just have to stick together. This serial killer can suck my left nut. Because I'm ready for him. I youtubed Jackie Chan for 4 hours straight. I'm a pro now." I laughed at his ridiculousness. "Oh you think i'm joking?" he nudged me playfully and let out a soft laugh.

"I feel so much better now." i said sarcastically.

"you should."

"shut up."

A/N
not edited. sorry about this chapter i had horrible writers block, and also i'm a lazy fuck lately. adulthood is kicking my ass