A heart feels strange when you hold it. You can almost imagine the heart beating, pumping blood throughout a body. You can feel all every part, squishing between your fingers.
That is the wonderful sensation I'm having right now. It's my favorite part of a kill. The warm, crimson red flows out of the heart, curling around my hand, trickling down my arm, and falling in splats to the floor. There's something about how the colour stains my fingernails, like a new shade of nail polish. I look behind me, and see the blood has left a long, steady trail.
I switch the heart to my left hand and take down a jar from the shelf with my right hand. A bit of the grey-yellow liquid sloshes over the side of the jar as I place it on the rickety wooden table in front of me. My hand shakes gently as I place the heart inside the jar. The excitement of the kill still hasn't worn off. My heart beats fast, and I feel alive with adrenaline.
I seal the jar closed and place it on the open slot on my shelf. Twenty-three similar hard surround it. Each filled 28th another kills heart. The thought makes a smile creep up on my face. Twenty-three victims. It's a wonder the police haven't caught me yet.
I push the thought out of my head, as I swoop down and dip my fingers in the blood trail, coating my fingers in the substance. Wasting no time, I neatly print the victims name on a white piece of cardboard. The blood trickles down from the letters a bit, but I don't worry. It will dry soon enough.
Realizing I only have one thing left to do, I sprint out of my lair and back out onto the streets. Its dark, but I don't stumble. I am used to the dark. I wear it like protective armor.
My footsteps make no noise as I dash through the streets. This kill is the closest one to my lair that I have ever made.
I knock the back door of the house open, knowing that I have already unhinged it. I walk through the dimly lit hallway into the living room. A smile creeps on my face. My heart races again as I see the lady laying in the middle of the floor. Her bleach blonde hair is matted down with blood, and her mascara is smeared from her tears. More of her blood has seeped out of the wound in her chest, making a pool around her.
I reach down and submerge my finger in blood once again, and then pull it out. Blood drips onto the floor as I pad over to the white wooden mantel. My finger writes the message I memorized a few months ago.
Getting closer? Have fun with this one.
I can't stop my smile from growing as I survey my work. This may be some of my best work. I stoop down and look at my victim. She's truly very pretty. It's a shame she had to get in my way. Her screams still echo in my ears, causing me to feel even more alive than before.
I jump up, and make my way to the back door as I hear the front door being unlocked.
I exit out the back door, as the front door is pulled open.
They are back. I hope they like their surprise
