The Blood of Karma

1. An Average Kill

You stared wickedly at the girl as she scooted back towards the wall, tears cascading down her cheeks with loud sobs. Her hair clung to her skin like a second layer due to rain, sweat, and blood. She looked scared and in pain, a red substance leaking from a deep injury in her leg. You only found that funny and ironic, as she -someone who had caused the same fear in other's lives- now held it in her own eyes. You smirked, though the girl couldn't see it behind the mask you wore.

Raising the knife up in your gloved hand, you hesitated as she quickly cried out, "Why?! Why are you doing this?!"

You thought for a few seconds, the silence only furthering scaring the teenager. You wanted the perfect thing to say, so you had to think hard. Then, you decided to choose the same words she did days before. With a shrug, you said, "Just because it's fun," and aimed the knife once more.

A scream sounded throughout the rain and wind, and the house door opened with a quiet creak a few minutes later. You walked out, your clothes already wet because of walking in the rain some time before, and the knife no longer in your hand. You had left it in her; after all, it was her kitchen knife.

'She really shouldn't have left dangerous toys laying about like that. She only has herself to blame.'

Your heavy boots splashed in the newly formed puddles as you stared at the ground. Slipping off the mask, your hand ran through the wet strands of hair to pull it back, along with the hair net. You gazed at your glove, its black leather was covered in blood. But not for the reason that anybody would think. No, it was covered in blood because you had written the same words she heard last on the wall above her dead body; along with laying her sins next to it.

You hadn't cared much for her, considering you showed no remorse on giving her a second chance. You had stalked -wait...no, watched her for a few weeks, stayed in the shadows and learning things others did not.

'That was a beautiful kill.'

The blood on your gloves dripped off, being washed away by the rain. If only her sins could've been washed away as easily as that.

You allowed yourself to be soaked, also allowing the blood to disappear down the drains on the road. It was a dark night, so you weren't worried about being recognized or even seen, tonight.

You checked her name -Hannah Dawkins- off a mental list, before running through the names on it. None of them had done anything too unforgiving; mostly slight shoving and drinking. It was all normal teenage stuff. That was, until you got to a certain name.

You thought of their schedule and decided a couple more days of sta- uh, watching would be in order. Your attention turned to another house when the light flicked on and a shadow of a woman appeared. You waited a few seconds before sprinting down the road, your jacket flying behind you like a cloak and water splashing all around you.

******************

Cleaning afterwards was always easy, but was considered harder because of the energy spent from before. Normally, you wouldn't be this tired after a kill, however, that Hannah Dawkins had been on track and cheerleading. She had you running for quite a while.

The blood on your jacket and gloves wasn't a problem, having them made out of leather and the waterproof spray, the red liquid had washed off in the storm. Your other clothes were a different story. You had to wash them, by hand, in your bathroom tub. The risk of having the blood questioned by your guardian was far too big, so you usually did your own washing on nights like this.