15.

Prologue

There he stood, waiting. His dark brown locks floated in the brisk morning breeze. A flock of crows circled above him as if death was quite literally hanging over his head. The bus would arrive in ten minutes, but until then, the thoughts cunningly circulated through his mind as to who his next lover would be and how he would end their night this time. Briefcase in hand, swaying gently from side to side, he remembered the previous week, meticulously planning and preparing the case. He had formulated, almost surgically, a kit suited to perform his deeds. Knives, set into their snug encasements; pistol, at the ready; syringes, neatly nestled in a row; the cool liquid sloshing in tiny bottles, eager to escape their glass cages.

Richard Alec was ready for his next victim and after some seconds of thought, his mind was now, no longer set on who but rather when. He was growing impatient. He hadn't killed in a week and the bloodlust was growing at an alarming rate. The addictive satisfaction of watching the life drain from someone's eyes was causing a withdrawal, leaving him a drooling mess over the thought of such delights. He knew that tonight had to be the night but his body had been reduced to a desensitised puddle of self-disgust after his third victim. He hadn't before, killed for the blood. The experience has caused a shock ridden entity to enter and encapture his spirit. Since then, something changed. Despite all of the pain and anguish towards the thought of killing, he suddenly felt a drive for the very same thing. His body was compelled to act against his mind and for some reason, he was okay with this. Although, for now, all he could do was wait for the bus and smile at the thought of another bleeding mistress.

Rich's impatience began to get the better of him. He began to desperately look around for a new trophy but there was no one nearby; no one viable anyway. An elderly woman was sat, picking through her purse, praying she had enough money for the bus fare. No, the elderly were close to death anyway, it would be no fun. A father and daughter were teasing each other outside of a nearby store. He'd never really been interested in men and the ethical problems with killing a child were incomparably disgusting. Let alone what would have to happen before the murder.

A young man, sat to the left of him was reading the newspaper. Richard leaned over and checked out the articles. There it was, his chance. The greatest luck he could ever ask for; printed in black and white, a woman: 'HELP WANTED'. This was to be the next, no arguments. Rich reached for a pen, in his back and scrawled down the telephone number and address on the back of his hand.

As his bus rolled in, a sudden wave of reality crashed against his skull and he woke from his dizzy spell to walk into the bus. His erratic thought process, however, meant that this dosage of the real world was incredibly short-lived as, upon being seated, his mind drifted again back to the night it all started. And there he drifted, into another daydream.