Tanner | Tate's Son

Chapter 3

* Tanners POV*

After I saw her, I couldn't stop thinking about her. I was used to being obsessed over things. Blood, screams, Nirvana. But she was different. I couldn't really explain it.

Walking back on my house, I flipped over the last page of the gun book I was reading. I already knew everything about guns, but no other subject interested me. I threw the finished book on the nearest lawn. They can have it. Maybe they can learn from it.

Once I reached my shit house, I opened the bark door only to smell the cookies Constance was baking.

"Tanner? That you?" Her soft voice yelled from the kitchen.

"Yeah." I yelled back as I made my way into the kitchen.

Her back stood to me as she whisked the batter.

"Mom, I have a question." I mumbled as I sat down at our old kitchen table.

She turned around as if I just said I was going to kill her. "You called me mom." She whispered.

I pulled up a grin, waiting for her to let me ask.

"What's your question dear?" She questioned as she turned back to her stress-free cooking. She would only cook when she had a lot on her mind.

"What do... girls like?"

She paused. "Is there a special girl I don't know about?"

Was that girl special? I didn't even know her but I couldn't get her out of my mind. Besides her beauty, there was something about her I was drawn to. Her loneliness? I don't know.

"Maybe." I replied.

"You... gonna kill her?" She asked.

Did I want to kill her? No. I didn't. That's what was different about her. I didn't feel the urge to kill her.

"No." I stiffly said back.

Her shoulders dropped. "Well. Flowers, puppies, perfumes."

I rolled my eyes. If that's what girls liked then they seem very simple.

Well I was going to see her tomorrow... maybe I can get her something. No, that's silly. I don't even know her. Though, a flower is something little I can get her. Maybe I'll put it in her bag.

"We got any flowers out back?" I asked, standing up.

"Don't rip one out. If you do it will kill the ripeness of the others. Just... buy one at a gas station." She offered as she poured the batter into a pan.

I shrugged. "Ok."

Instead of going to a gas station, I went into a small market. It was the size of a gas station, except instead of heart disease candy and chips it had plates, food, fruits... and flowers.

Looking amongst the plants, I chose one that caught my eye.

Picking up the single flow I looked at the black petals, realizing it was a rose but painted black. Something inside of me told me she would like it.

Waking up to the cash register, a fat man dryly greeted me. He wore a white tank top that was not doing good for his flab arms, and messy stubble.

"$6." He mumbled.

Shit. I forgot my wallet. And my house was way to far to walk back.

Oh well. I grabbed the flower. "Sorry, but ill be taking this for free."

He stared at me, then scoffed. "Funny, kid. Give the money."

"Nah. Matter of fact, maybe I'll take another one with me."

"Do I have to call the police?" He asked as he placed his hand on an office phone.

"No. You won't be able to."

"What?"

Before he could blink, I reached into my pocket and clasped the sharp cutting knife I always had.

Taking it out I reached across the counter and slashed his throat. Clean and fast.

Blood then began squirting out of his neck like a fountain, and he grabbed at the blood as he began to choke. His eyes rolled back and he began shaking, his body suffocating as the blood drained along with his life. I smiled as I wiped the blood off the knife with his shoulder. It was his blood, anyway.

Then, he fell to the floor, gargling on his blood. I stuffed the knife back in my pocket. "Have a good day." I laughed, before leaving.

Luckily nobody else was in the market. Or else I would have had to kill them too. And I don't have time for that shit.

Once I was in my room, I placed the flower next to my bag so I wouldn't forget. Collapsing on my bed I stared up at the ceiling. For once I didn't feel bored. I killed someone today, and I saw the most prettiest girl. I wish every day could be like this.

Last time I killed someone it was when the mail man woke me up at 7 in the morning. I just opened the door and shot him dead in the face. I grinned to the memory. His body is still buried out back. Sadly, there isn't much room for more bodies in our backyard. Constance doesn't know about the bodies, however. She thinks I just kill bad people that did her wrong. She literally used me as her personal killing machine. But she had no idea I kill many, many people during my free time. But whatever.

Reaching over to my nightstand, I grabbed my coke. I always needed a hit of it before I sleep.