Killer Me

Chapter One - Alice

"Hey, Teller, you sure you got that?"  

Alice looked up at Benny through her straggly black hair and rolled her eyes, frustrated at his constant teasing. Chewing on the piece of rubber that had once been a sorry excuse for nicotine gum, she bent her knees and lifted the heavy box from its place on the shelf and tossed it onto the trolley.

"You didn't seem to care if I could handle it when you were up front, smacking Carla's ass just a few minutes ago," she called back, delighting at the blush on Benny's face. He was such a prick, probably her least favorite co-worker, mostly because he talked too damn much. And how many times had he gotten cocky about getting into her pants? Alice probably turned him down at least seven or eight times over the two years she'd been there before she just stopped counting.

Alice started to wheel the heavy cart out, straightening her dingy orange apron, but Benny moved closer; a conspiratorial look on his face. She sighed and waited for whatever information he thought was going to blow her socks off.

"Did you hear? They found another body this morning. Same M.O.; throat slit from ear to ear. The Vancouver Villain struck again." He waggled his thick eyebrows and tried to look sinister.

"Give it a rest, Benny. First of all, you sound like you're quoting a God damn news anchor. And the media hasn't labeled this guy as a serial killer yet. They certainly haven't given him an asinine name like the Vancouver Villain." Alice continued chomping on her gum as she pushed through the swinging doors and headed toward the appliance section with Benny hot on her heels.

"Not yet, but they will. They always do. Admit it, you're scared."

Stopping and leaning against the cart, Alice turned and stared at Benny with an impatient glare. "The only thing I'm scared of is losing my job because I beat the shit out of you for following me around like a retarded dog. Now, get to work before I snap and break each of your fingers."

He quickly hid the offended expression, then Benny finally made himself scarce and Alice went back to work. God, she needed a cigarette! The damn gum was useless. Rolling out to the aisle, she unloaded the boxed mini-fridge in the hole where it belonged, pushed the cart aside, and high-tailed it to the employee exit in the back while lighting the cigarette as she pushed the door open.

Twenty-five, she thought bitterly.

Her birthday was in two weeks, and she'd be two-and-a-half decades old. What did she have to show for it? A tiny apartment with an old futon that doubled as frumpy couch and a lumpy bed, a dog that was her only companion, and a job at Home Depot where she made enough money to eat something other than Ramen noodles for dinner. She took a long drag and shook her head. At least she was better off on her own than she had been in the system. Screw foster homes, Alice thought; the typical anger making her clench her jaw as it arose from her chest.

She fought it off, reminding herself that she didn't have to answer to adults who didn't give a shit about her anymore. Or that the government wouldn't get reports on her less than stellar behavior ever again. Today, she was on her own and, while it might not be everyone's ideal situation, she had a life that contented her. She finished her cigarette and debated lighting another but opted instead to run to the bathroom and check her makeup.

The thick dark lines around her eyes were slightly smudged and she dug in her pocket for the black eyeliner, hastily correcting it. But the crimson eye shadow and deep purple lipstick were still perfectly in place. A few strands of her shiny black hair had come loose from the pom-pom pigtails on her head, but she didn't really care. Alice never cared enough about her appearance to let stuff like a messy hair-do bother her. As long as she had her eyeliner, she would be okay. It often felt like a mask, one that shielded her from the world. Or maybe it was the other way around.