Killer || muke

t h r e e

》Michael

The boy with the blonde hair looked annoyed. His steps were heavy and the sour look he wore would make a lemon pucker.  Maybe it was because he had to stay at school until 10.

He put his earbuds in and continued walking. He glanced in my direction but I know he won't see me even under the full moon. I've gotten too good at hiding.

I heard him singing quietly to himself and I have to admit he's a bit talented. But I shouldn't be complimenting a future victim.

He planted himself on the bus bench and I admired him for a moment; he looked like an angel in disguise. The moonlight reflected off of his virtually blemish free skin. He had a pixie like nose; coming off into a little point at the end that would be perfect for good morning kisses.

I need to stop.

I left my crevice in the bushes and sauntered to the bench, my knife waiting eagerly in my pocket, leather gloves gripping it.

My hand waited gingerly above his broad shoulder before I patted his shoulder. He turned around slowly, his eyes darting across my face. I suddenly felt self concious- the boy was the definition of beautiful. His glassy blue eyes illuminated in the night and would virtually make any star jealous.

He took out his ear bud (I could hear All Time Low playing faintly) and quirked an eyebrow. My mouth went dry.

"Y-yes?" He asked.

"What's your name?" Did I really just ask that? Really? I don't want to know his name. I don't want to put an identity to my victim.

"I don't think I should tell green haired strangers my name." He pointed out.

"Do you want a ride?" I asked. Am I really that fucking dumb? I don't even have a damn car. "I mean, well, I-"

"Anything beats the bus, to be honest."

Now I'm really fucking done.

No no no, you can work with this. Just do what you did to Robert King. Befriend him, then slit his throat. Simple.

But I don't want to slit his throat. I want to kiss him and sleep with him and make him mine.

Isn't part of the plan, just stick to the plan. You are incapable of anything but demise and destruction. You are heartless.

"Uh, where's your car?" The blonde asked, standing up. He wrapped his iPod in his ear buds and put it the side pocket of his backpack.

The knife in my pocket suddenly felt warmer.

"That's what I was trying to tell you, I don't have a car. But I'll walk you."

"A stranger walking me home? You're lucky you're cute, you know." I felt my cheeks heat up and I swear I'm at least fifty shades of pink.

"The pink on your cheeks really makes your hair stand out. Maybe I'll have to make you blush more often." If it was eve possible, my cheeks got hotter.

"So are you going to say something or just stand there blushing? I would be fine with both."

Such a flirt. But shit he is cute.

"Yeah, uh, let's g-get you home." He won't make it home.

Oh hush. I might let this one go.

Don't be weak. You're already a murderous ass, don't make yourself weak too.

He joined my side and a silence overcame us. It was quite awkward and tension filled, and I was glad when he broke it.