Understanding the Killers

Prologue: Just Gettin' Started

The dark haired girl with the memorizing  blue eyes sat across the room. She watched the tall, threatening man dressed in a nice, blue suit with a slight smile. This was enjoyable for her. The blonde man with square glasses paced the room, clearly getting agitated. "We saw you with the knife. Blood all over your hands. Your fingerprints all over the handle of the blade, yet you still plead innocent?" The deep voice nearly yelled. The man ran a hand throw his light, butter colored hair. Bloodwriter, the name the police gave her, since she wouldn't say her real one, stayed silent. The only sound that came from her was a giggle. It would be like honey to anyone, but to that man, it was equal to the sound of nails sliding against a chalkboard. He wanted to shut her up. He smacked the table, hard, his hands clenched in fists to the point of his knuckles going white.
         "I didn't do it!~" She singsonged and continued giggling. Bloodwriter noticed the tall, looming man starting to grow ever more frustrated. She started laughing at his misery, it got to the point that tears streamed down her cheeks.
      "We'll find evidence, don't you worry. This is only beginning." The man said and sat in his chair across the table from the handcuffed girl. His face showed clearly how mad he actually was. Bloodwriter slowed down her laughter and went back to a giggle.
         "Psst, can I ask you something? If you answer my question, then I'll answer yours!" She said in a play whisper. The detective got curious and leaned in, his blue suit crinkled slightly. "No, no, no!~" She singsonged again, "You must agree first!" She said and giggled again.
            "Fine, I agree." His voice boomed impatiently and he sat back upright, watching the giggling killer with ice in his eyes.
       "Do you have dreamless nights?" She whispered with a giggle.
          "Yes, nearly every night." He answered back seriously.
       "Too bad, those who have
dreamless nights tend to enjoy reality. Those who enjoy reality, lack imagination. Those who lack imagination, will never understand why we kill." Bloodwriter said, her eyes glittering with excitement from saying this. Her hands started fidgeting in the handcuffs, her fingers popped every now and then.
             "Did you kill that man?" The agent asked the crazy girl.
       "Yes, I did. I've killed loads of people, it was all such fun. Seeing the bright and cheery faces fall dead. Oooh, such enjoyment!" She said happily.
            "How exactly did you do it? He had bodyguards... Ten of them." He asked again.
       "We'll have to start from the beginning then." She giggled.
                       2 years ago.
     "No!" Julia yelled at her computer. She had jumped out of her chair when she had died in her game. The chair fell backwards and hit her calf on the way down. "Ouch..." She mumbled.
     "Julia? Are you ok?" She heard James ask through the headset. His voice sounded so worried.
      "Yeah... I'm fine." Julia answered as genuinely as possible. She straightened the chair again and pushed back the black hair that fell into her blue eyes.