Veins of Ice

Weaving The Web

Breaking bones and blood filled the silence of the night after the muffled screams of the victim faded like dust in the wind. The body was mangled beyond belief, however, the only identifiable and recognizable features of the face were the eyes, and the jewelry worn around the neck... One a striking ice blue, the other a deep and intense brown that almost resembled a whirlpool with the darker brown etched into it. 

The necklace which was a brilliant sterling silver, now coated in crimson red glimmering blood, had engraved in it a name that wasn't readable anymore. 

Breathing labored and harsh, Stephen stood from his crouched position over the body. Dressed in a dark blue button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, now covered in stained blood from the splatter, he took in a long breath then released it. 

The trench coat he wore over this as the air started becoming freezing to the point that his breath looked like frost was fitted well, concealed a belt that carried several instruments which were attached to his hips. In his hand he held the butcher knife that was dripping blood into a pool at his feet. 

Taking another breath he smoothed back the strands of hair that had come undone from his ponytail and took out a handkerchief from his pocket, very slowly and carefully cleaning off the blood as he stared at his reflection in it. His eyes, dark and brooding as well as swirling with possibilities of his next plan. He had perfected his emotions being locked behind a mask and that was what kept everything under his absolute control.

The victim beneath him was turning the color of ice as blood drained out of the wounds he had produced with the attack. His hunger spiked as the sweet, intoxicating smell filled his senses.

"Now then," Stephen lowly whispered to the night sky, a sick and sadistic smirk forming at the edges of his lips as he bent at the knees, gathering the body in his arms and walking out of the alleyway towards his apartment, making sure to be careful of any pests roaming about as he didn't want anymore problems to arise. 

 "Time for the game to continue."

What struck Stephen as odd, as he walked with the limp, mangled body in his arms, was that there were no sirens... No one coming to see what was going on... Nothing to interrupt his attack. So what exactly was going on?

Only his thoughts and footsteps occupied Stephen as he walked, the same sadistic smile coming back to his features time and time again throughout the walk. Stopping after a good while, he shifted the newly found meal a bit to freely dig his hand into his coat's pocket for the backdoor key to his apartment. 

Once he found it, he opened up the apartment door but lingered there... Something was wrong, he had this sudden intense feeling as he glanced over each shoulder, catching the faint glimpse of a person disappearing behind the fence a few feet away.

This wouldn't go without consequence, Stephen said to himself in his head as he continued going into the apartment and closing the door behind him.

Had he been spotted?

No.. that was impossible. Only... it wasn't impossible, as there was the same intense looming feeling from earlier. 

Stephen stored the body in his walk-in freezer, then flicked on several lights only to find out that his walls bored a message repeatedly in what looked like fresh blood. 

"Your Next" read the message that covered every inch of wall in his apartment. He moved from the kitchen, quietly and cautiously, resting one hand on the handle of the knife at his belt... 

Whomever had done this had to still be here, and he wouldn't take the risk of being attacked. Reaching around the corner between the kitchen and living room, Stephen turned on the light just as the sound of a gun went off and everything went black...

Jolting upright in his bed from a cold sweat, Stephen turned on the bedside lamp beside him and looked around. His breath was ragged and short. 

Another nightmarish dream? Stephen asked himself, only when he tried to remember the dream on demand, he found himself unable to recall the events. 

It was only a dream, but he couldn't shake the feeling afterwards. Slowly, Stephen removed himself from the covers and got dressed. His long jet-black hair trailing behind him as he got ready. It was only three in the morning, but he couldn't, and wouldn't return to dreamland. 

His apartment was set in the middle of the rest around him, so he had solitude on both sides since every occupant kept to themselves. Unfortunately, today was the day that his brother was coming to visit and he had yet to clean up, get himself ready to face the spiteful world and figure out what he was going to do with the pantry.

Luckily, he had his brother's help when he needed it so. 

Dragging himself out of his thoughts, Stephen went to the bathroom and brushed out the knots from his hair, sighing to himself as he waged a war on whether or not to put it up. But he chose the latter and left it alone, avoiding the struggle. He wasn't used to his brother coming over unexpectedly, normally he'd have given Stephen a week's prior notice, but this time wasn't the case. 

Joy. Human interaction.. Stephen thought to himself, sliding on a maroon red dress shirt and rolling up the sleeves. He buttoned it up, leaving the first and second to the top buttons undone.

Paired with this was his black skinny jeans, and grey tennis shoes. He checked his watch after putting it on, sighing again in annoyance. Why in damnation had the dream not allowed him a few hours more of sleep? 

His brother wouldn't be here til around nine in the morning, and it was only just a bit after four o'clock. Deciding against taking a walk, Stephen receded to his study where all of his design maps and mannequins were.. Perhaps that would take up some of his time, since he owned a designer shop anyways, he had to also get the projects he was working on done and sent in to be made by the company's factory before the deadline.

But he still couldn't shake the weird feeling he was getting at every corner he turned..