The Messenger

Chapter Nine

This chapter is dedicated to CarsonFaircloth, for the amazing cover :)

Chapter Nine

I guzzled down the remainder of my Bud Light and tossed it in the backseat where the other beer cans littered the floor. With all the stress I had to undergo this week I think I deserved to have a few drinks and prey upon my next victim. Blame it on the beer or my guilty conscience, but I had an enticing urge to take my anger and deep frustrations on something, someone, now. I couldn't wait for Caroline to help me plan all of this out, which usually takes a week tops. We find out her daily routine and find the right time to lure our victim to her death. No what I needed is to take my racing mind off this subject for now; I need to hurt something, kill someone right now.

So, that is why I am up at the wee hours of the morning attempting to silence the garrulous voices in my head. They scream at me for being so foolish, so gullible. The beer helps to silence them momentarily, drowning them away to an unknown abyss. It is also the reason why I have been riding around in my truck for the past two and a half hours, searching for a prostitute or a random civilian woman to release my frustrations on. I mean, I have seen quite a few scandalous women wandering the streets aimlessly, but they can not subside my growing angst.

 Only a riveting red-haired, green eyed wench can fulfill my hunger. But, I've yet to come across a single one. I think I will finally absolutely lose it if I can not find one of these devils. My anger is damn near bubbling, over it's limit and that is, and will not pretty sight. I have never wholly lost control of my temper, yet. But I can guarantee whomever is around me at the time being, they will have to pay the price.

I once again slowly turn the corner, I bite my lip furiously in vexation. I think I may have wandered in the poverty-stricken side of town. The buildings are more raggedy and fewer people seem to occupy them. Stray dogs wander the streets looking for their next meal. From the looks of it, most of them haven't eaten in weeks maybe months. Their rib cages are pretty much all the way visible. Homeless men and women clutter the vacant streets, with just the clothes on their backs and frail blanket to sleep with. I drag a hand down my face and shake my head, I need to focus on finding this woman. 

Just as I was about to give up and return home, I drove down a long empty street full of them. Women of all colors, shapes, and sizes were scattered about. The purring of my engine caused their heads to turn in my directions. I could practically see the money signs popping into their eyes, since my Hummer is one of the newest editions they must figure I make quite amount of money. To a prostitute, she has hit the jackpot. I slowly pulled my car to a stop, parking it across the street and scanned the crowd. There has to be at least one redhead amongst all these whores. The bravest one left the women she was speaking with a sauntered over to my car.

"Hey daddy," she purred, while leaning in my truck window. She smelled as if she had bathed in cheap perfume, I nearly gagged at the scent. "Looking for a good time?" The prostitute smiled showcasing her imperfect smile, they teeth were child-like. In desperate need of some dental work. Her face is smothered in entirely to much makeup, she looks so fake, yet, at the same time, exactly what society envisions beauty as. Any other time I would have taken this blonde haired woman up on her offer, but today I was on a mission and it didn't involve her.

"Yes, but not from you," I slurred, locking gazes with her. The prostitutes face displayed shock but she quickly masked it with a scowl, I guess someone isn't used to rejection.

"Well why the hell not? You must be gay or something then." she stated while placing her hand on her slender hip. If I wasn't already in an no nonsense type of mood I would've chuckled at her childish behavior. I made sure she noticed my eyes slowly travel down the length of her body.