The Serial Killers (Complete)

Kate04/05 N/A

At first, I couldn't understand why I was swaying, or why my head hurt so badly. My senses were on overdrive, but somehow stunted, like a wire cut near the transistor. All I could see was black and I couldn't hear anything but the dull hum of a man's voice, muffled and indistinguishable.

The first pang of agony came as my senses came back online. A blood curdling scream rose to my lips, but was choked by a piece of cloth wedged into my mouth. Horror and nausea threatened to overwhelm me.

The voice snapped into focus. "...sorry about your friend. Dumb oaf chased me. Can you believe that?" He had a nice melodious voice, like Raelyn's.

My eyes slitted open and I caught the full glare of a familiar face. I jerked back, as if slapped. "Hmm. Pupils slightly dilated, possible concussion. Never the matter, it doesn't affect your prognosis."

The brown haired, green eyed man spun on his heels and went to rummage in something out of my view. He was leaner than Jericho, I thought, more feminine, but definitely related.

The doppelganger returned and teased the cloth out of my mouth. "Tell me, how do you feel?"

I screamed, the noise primal and terrified. He shoved the cloth back in, choking it off and chuckling. "Just fine."

He left my vision again, returning with a clipboard where he scribbled notes furiously. "Perfect, just perfect."

I craned my head so that I was staring up at the ceiling. My cuffed hands were chained to a cedar beam and looked misplaced against the rotting wood. The scent of decay permeated the air, heightened by the scent of copper. In the center of the room, a single, naked bulb hung from the ceiling.

My bare feet barely brushed the ground, as I swung, putting all my body weight on my wrists. A thin snake of blood ran down my arms from where the cuffs had cut into my skin. The man who looked like Jericho began to pace. He spoke in chopped sentences, saying things as they occurred to him as if he didn't notice that he had an audience. "One won't do. I'll need to kill him too. A waste of my blood."

Blood, I thought stupidly. Of course, he's Matthew, Jericho's cousin. Not dead and certainly not sane.

I jerked my hands, feeling the sting as the metal cut deeper into my wrists. Tears sprung to my eyes and I blinked them back furiously. I didn't want to die pleading for my life.

Matthew noticed. "It's okay to feel afraid, everyone is in their final moments. It will only hurt a little."

I glared at him, possibly cross-eyed by the pain tearing through my head. He grasped my chin firmly as I tried to pull away. "A fighter, aren't you?"

Matthew's eyes went glazed again and he crossed the room to begin filling a black bag with items that made my skin crawl: lighter fluid, rope, duct tape, packages of C4 and matches.

He smiled reassuringly at me. "Don't worry, I'll be back."

Matthew reached for a pistol and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans as the bag went up over his shoulder. "It'll be over soon. Disease," He licked his lips. "must be cut out."

He mounted the steps to the surface sticking a key into the lock and letting himself out. The lock turned over once more after he was gone and I was finally alone.