THE GRIM

THE GRIM 01.

THE GRIM —
WELCOME TO PARADISE!

DAY 402.

it was raining very hard that night. the leather wheel under his calloused hands vibrates every so often with the engine's gentle hum, the dusky sky holds a single full moon to guide him to his destination, and his windshield wipers are diligently but uselessly tearing away any raindrop that dared to sit itself upon his window. he finds himself wishing the rain had an off button.

the radio doesn't blare with music, but with warnings.

"twenty-two year old teia mondy has been reported missing, along with twenty-one year old brooke baynes. they were last seen at the dollhouse club at 11:13 p.m. if you have any information on where they could be, please do not hesitate to alert novi police."

and after that:

"there has now been a curfew established for all novi inhabitants, as the recent violence in the city cannot go ignored. everyone should report to their homes by 10 p.m. until 6 a.m., and any disobedience will result in a $500 fine or a night in jail. the recent killings of miranda toby, brianna randel, daniel husche, and many other young men and women has made a curfew of an esteemed importance. please be wary of your surroundings and secure your doors, novi. goodnight."

those words made a shiver go down his spine; it excited him that so many feared him, although none of them even knew his name — and they honestly believed a silly curfew was able to stop him. he must admit, being the talk of the town was exhilarating, and he planned to be as popular everywhere he traveled to. but he wished the sky would stop its weeping for a moment — it was ruining such a good night. after the announcements, slow ballads start to stream in from his radio; ballroom music, perhaps, to let the listeners know that the nights before them had ominous endings.

he is thankful, that he doesn't need to drive for so long. soon, novi, michigan is a place of the past. a place where his hands were beautifully smeared with the blood of many. his destination is only a short hour and thirty-four minutes away from his last spree; a tiny town in ohio that went by the name of paradise.

a warm and melancholic ballad transitions into an anxious orchestra, with strings played with fervor and speed, instead of warmth and invitation. his car passes a large a sign that says welcome, to paradise, ohio! 

the stars gleam brighter with every vibrato in the symphony, and the rain pours alongside the melodies rhythmically, as if it was the heartbeat of the instruments themselves. he clicks the radio off abruptly, the music then disappearing into cold air. his eyes darken as he cruises into the night.

"welcome to paradise, jeongguk."

—
a / n: these chapters will be rather short for this one. let's hope i do well with this. 😔🤘🏾