Mad (Reprise) ☆ MCSTARR

one

dedicated to myshiningstarr , who practically jumped up and down when i told her i was gonna rewrite this 🌻

WARNING: VIOLENCE, GORE, FOUL LANGUAGE AND DEPRAVITY.

"When the Fox hears the Rabbit scream he comes a-runnin', but not to help." - Hannibal Lecter

🔫

With a cigarette placed in between his rosy lips, Ringo gazed at the bright television screen with boredom. With his mother out halfway across the country, the sorta-abandoned seventeen year old boy was left with a month's worth of money (if not more) and the freedom to smoke around the house.

"But Clarissa, I still love you-"

Shitty.

"I don't make love, I fuck-"

Overrated.

"Suicide rates hit a new peak, according to-"

What's new?

"Eighteen dead due to-"

Strangers.

"We are the Crystal Ge-"

Reruns.

"Serial killer on the loose-"

Ringo perked up at the words serial killer and quickly returned to the channel. A grungy photo of a man with a scruff and upturned, cupid-bow lips. Blue eyes met grayscale, hooded ones, delight and sick fascination written all over the youth's face.

Only George knew he had this odd obsession of searching up vile crimes on the internet. They would stay up all night, eyes transfixed on transcripts of jury records and pictures of crime scenes. George was accustomed to weird things - heck, his sister owned one of those hairless, exotic cats - and Ringo was just plain curious to everything he set his blue eyes on. It was both his folly, and his talent to look through the shittiest of shits and keep an open mind about it.

Paul Mccartney stuck to him - Ringo admitted that his whole face was something akin to an angel you'd see before you die. Now that Ringo thought of it, he was ironically exactly like that.

"The victim, Eleanor Rigby, 23, was a sex worker involved in a supposed scandal with the local Liverpool priest Father McKenzie." The reporter says, Ringo's eyes widening at the victim's before and after photos.

Gruesome. A ripple of disgust and interest runs down his spine.

"As many viewers know, the Liverpool Ladykiller's victims are mostly prostitutes and stray women. Police are advising parents to-"

A loud BANG! interrupted Ringo's little bubble and his head snapped towards the direction of the door. It was 12 am, streets were completely dark except for the stray lights here and there.

It's probably the Ladykiller. Ringo thought, unable to control the giggle that bubbled out of his throat. Liverpool Ladykiller, fucking ridiculous.

The doorknob twisted and turned, making the boy pause abruptly.

"Hello?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Then all of a sudden a crimson hand slapped on the front window. Ringo let out a shriek, hands flying up to his mouth instinctively.

"H-Help." The bloodied hand curled into a pained fist, shaking and voice cracking. "Help- oh my fucking god-"

Ringo practically flew to the front door, hands shaking and stumbling. He swung the door open, eyes wide and frantic.

"Hey are you-"

His open mouth was invaded with the taste of iron and he let out a sudden squeak. The door slammed close with a strong backward kick, cold metal digging into Ringo's neck.

"Oh god-" He managed, tears welling in his eyes. "Oh my fucking god-"

"Shh, darling." The hand crawled to his cheek, leaving a rampage of bright maroon from his mouth to the bottom of his glassy left eye. "You'll keep quiet, won't you?" When Ringo failed to answer, the sound of the gun cocking snapped his blue eyes up. "Won't you?"

"Y-Yes sir." He whimpered, shaking even more when Paul Mccartney squeezed his cheek.

The man gave him a handsome grin, snatching Ringo's soul out of his mouth. The heavy weight of the gun shied away from Ringo's neck, Paul pinching his cheek one last time before stepping back.

"Fuck," Ringo breathed, stumbling back. His spine met the cold concrete wall, hands ghosting over the spot where a fucking gun just touched his neck.

His wide eyes followed the killer, who was currently sauntering aimlessly through his living room. Along with his muddied footsteps, drops of scarlet following him like scattered rose petals. The second their eyes met, Ringo looked back down to his feet.

"Hey hon," Paul cooed. "C'mere, I don't bite."

"You're bleeding." The teen blurted, finding it painfully ironic that he hated blood. He realized someone else's blood was all over his mouth and his face, making him gag.

The man blinked, then looked down to his hands. "Oh, this? S'not mine, baby blue."

"Oh god," Ringo choked out, hands going to his mouth. "You're here- You're real- You're-"

"Paul Mccartney." He gracefully fished out a handkerchief, handing it to the smaller boy. Ringo flinched away, making the psycho roll his eyes. "I know you hate blood, dollface. Unless you want to puke your guts out on the carpet-"

The teenager fell to his knees, back arched as the contents of stomach forcefully emptied out on the floor. Paul tsked, muttering a soft pussy before going to the bathroom.

"I'm not a pussy." Ringo protested weakly, face flushed and tears mingling with the blood on his cheeks.

"And I didn't blow McKenzie's brains out, babe." Paul called from the kitchen, sarcasm thick and slick as the evidence of murder on his hands. The kitchen sink let out a squeak and water poured out, washing away the priest's blood on Paul's hands.

Ringo stumbled to his feet, hugging himself. Paul looked over his shoulder, grabbing a random towel and cleaning his hands with it.

"Y-You killed the priest too?"

The man shrugged. "They were fucking when I saw them. Not a nice thing to see."

"Not a nice-" Ringo stumbled out. "What the fuck- You killed him! How could sex be more gross than murder?!"

"You wouldn't know what it's like to see an old man's dick, honeypie." The mere mental image made the boy wince in sheer disgust. "See?" Paul cooed, walking over like a relaxed cat toward it's petrified prey. His hand cupped Ringo's cheek. "You're one of those disgustingly innocent kids who think they're mature because they use the word fuck, baby boy."

"Fuck you." Ringo snarled, proving Paul's point and slapped his hand away.

Paul raised his eyebrows in slight suprise. A dark look clouded his half-lidded eyes, and the older man seized his face roughly, squeezing his cheeks hard to the point pain sparked. Whatever confidence that sprouted in Ringo's chest suddenly wilted.

"Don't test me." He snapped, doe eyes brimming with anger. A sadistic smile formed in his lips when pathetic sniffles filled his ears. "You're pretty when you cry, did you know that?"

Upon hearing it, Ringo's tears stung even more. He curled his hands around Paul's wrists, trying to pry his hand off.

"Let me go, you d-deranged-" Paul's hand snapped open like a claw, making the boy tumble backwards and hit the counter. "Asshole!" Ringo shouted, words as threatening as a gun filled with blanks with the way he hugged himself.

The older man let out a laugh.

"I'm going to have so much fun with you, pet."