Walking into Nightmares

The Rat

He woke with laughter bubbling out of his throat. His hands were stained in blood, and he could practically taste it. He tried to push it down when he realized what he was doing, but he failed. Cackles, low and dangerous poured out of his mouth. In the darkness of the room, there was no light, but that was alright.

The darkness in his soul, the side that he worked so hard to suppress had finally broke free. The door to the room opened, but he was too busy trying to shove the monster in his brain down far enough that it wouldn't be able to effect his decision making anymore.

It took several seconds before he had realized that it was a dream. A good, bloody dream, but a dream none the less. He remembered the sound of bone cracking beneath his cane. It had been messy, but fun work. It had soothed a part of him that he had almost forgotten existed.

"Mr. Altieri?" MacAllister questioned lightly one he had stopped laughing. "Is everything alright?"

He straightened his shoulders, even if she couldn't see, and did what he did best. "Everything is fine, my dear. Just an interesting memory." He told her, swallowing down the last of his chuckles. Every time he closed his eyes, he remembered the body and the blood. It had been one of his favorite memories. His first kill.

That was how he knew that if he killed again, he would need to be put down. That was the reason he had no problem if people wanted to think of him as a murderer. He was one. Sophie had barely pulled him out after he had snapped the first time and killed the woman. He remembered the look on her face as she had woken up, naked, in a room covered in plastic. She couldn't see, and he had stayed silent, listening to her pleading and drinking in her screams. Right before she died, after she had bitten through her own tongue several time, he had pulled off the blindfold, letting her see exactly who had dared do this to her.

It was such a sweet moment, watching her eyes fill with horror as soon as she realized not only who he was, but why he was doing this. All without ever saying a word. The last thing she saw was him cutting off her breasts. It was messy work, but oh so satisfying.

His first kill was almost enough to send him over the edge, but, then, his phone had rung. Sophie was calling him. Sophie wouldn't be able to put up with a monster. Sophie, sweet, innocent Sophie, would never know what he had done. He had cleaned up, disposed of the body in pieces, and returned to life as normal. Seeing as how they had been broken up for a month, no one even thought to question him about the death, or disappearance as the rest of the world thought, of Mara Franklin.

Oh yes, he had killed before. And he missed it.

He had managed to keep it a secret, but he had changed after that night. He was more jaded, more bitter, and unless he was careful, there was something about him that disturbed others around him. It had taken him a week to rebuild his mask, and regain his acquaintances. However, while they had still seemed to like him, no one had forgotten. By the end of the month, he was watched more closely than ever before, and avoided on the streets like never before.

The few people who challenged him after had not sated his blood lust. He had refused to kill again, for Sophie's sake, but they had still learned a very important lesson. Never mess with Emiliano Altieri. He may not have been known for murder, but that didn't mean that the people who pissed him off left without a mark.

Oh no, each of them, to this day, still owed him a debt that had remained unspoken, but not forgotten. They had known that if he had actually wanted to, he would have taken their miserable lives. From there, he started gathering information on a larger scale. Information meant the difference between getting away and getting caught. The more people who owed you, the larger your web will become.