Adrenaline

Chapter 9

***

All parts from this point on will be from Athena's perspective, unless there's a note at the top saying otherwise.

***

11.

A seemingly inconspicuous number to billions of people across the planet. However, to Jack the Ripper, a true, inexcusable sociopath, 11 was his kill count, his payment to hell.

The same goes for the Zodiac killer. 5. Five lives just turned into a number, a crime statistic, a mental trophy for the man who stole the life from a living, breathing body.

Now, combine those numbers. 16. That's the amount of death by my hands in just one night. Sixteen people, admittedly 16 truly terrible people, but still... people, human beings with families, opinions, reasonings behind why they did what they did.

It's funny, really. How many can't live with the guilt of taking one life, no matter how deserving, yet somehow, in this twisted world with my twisted mind, all I feel is pride.
A burning sense of refreshment, that I am doing something, even if that something makes me worse than two notorious serial killers.

The impromptu dress was ruined by the fifth; a girl around my build, her reach giving her a slight advantage. In all honestly, if my sight hadn't have been blinded by a red veil and if my mind was still working on some sane level, the girl... woman, would have been a confusing addition.

A drip of purity in a sea of sin.

She had been fighting with another inmate, winning of course given the blood splattered down and across her cheekbone, highlighting her petite features as the small man becomes limp, his head falling back and eventually connecting with the floor, knees first, face second. She'd faced me with no urgency, just a bland smile and sex appeal, the adrenaline enough to give anyone a brief high or craving more relief.

"Pretty lady." Her pure white hair hung around her shoulders, surprisingly well kept given her stay on death row, like an insane Tinkerbell. The gravelly tone sends a small rush down from the base of my neck to each and every fingertip, electrifying all movement within a six foot radius.

I hum, not in agreement but pleasure, the tall silhouette edging closer.

This... this right here is what I live for.

"No hard feelings." At my following smile she jumps, aiming to grab my exposed arm and growling as she misses, moving past me swiftly as I turn, my feet still calmly stuck to the ground.

Smiling once more, she takes a couple of swings, missing each time, and gradually losing the Harley Quinn demeanour as her eyes turn a shade darker.

"Does the pretty lady have a name?" I sigh, examining the glaze that overtakes her features, a defence mechanism, shielding her from the future.

Oh, Tinkerbell knows she's going to die.

"Yeah, I do." Watching her guard drop, I grab her left arm, slamming the limb between myself and a sturdy looking cupboard, waiting for the bone to crack before letting go, listening in hidden euphoria at her string of curses. Moving her predictably throbbing arm in small circles, she raises her other arm; it's the first defensive move, an admittance of defeat.

I position myself behind her, slipping under a flailing arm and moving her legs from under her, forcing her to the floor and not expecting half my dress to go with her. Vaguely aware of the large rip down the left side and ensuring all the areas I preferred to keep for private viewings, were still that - private, I return to number 5, making quick work of stopping the next rise of her chest and watching for 30 seconds to make sure my work was finalised.