I'm So Dirty Babe

Keys to the Hotel

***C/W ; mentions and depictions of murder, violence, slicing, and rape and domestic violence**

I sat on the corner of Black & Gold Streets, sharpening my favorite knife under my large jacket. The area was infamous for its high homeless, drug addicted population, so hiding wasn't a priority. Frank was out of town, visiting family. The perfect opportunity for a string of killing.

I was running on empty since Frank had moved in, with no time to kill. He was still on edge, but he stuck by my side. It almost disgusted me, how he clearly loved me despite being a murderer. Clearly, something was not quite right his brain, either. Everything else though, was perfect as ever. His lips, his waist, the sounds escaping his mouth when we had sex were enough to make me fall in love. But, I kept the words under lock and key, even still.

I sat on the corner awaiting the man I had been tracking since night fall. His name was Anthony, a serial rapist in the area police had still not managed to capture. No worries, I thought, I'll take care of him. It had been a few weeks now since the last kill, my rage was bubbling, so it was really a blessing that Frank was away for awhile. The lack of blood lately left me almost hungry for pushing the limits. I could feel that one would not be enough.

I snapped out of my daze when the knife and sharpener slipped, slicing me superficially across the stomach. It stung, and was bleeding quite a bit. It enraged me. That's when I looked up and saw Anthony stepping out of a cab at a hotel across the street. Trailing behind him was a tall, dark haired female. She wore a small red dress, and carried two black heels in her hand, obviously just coming in from a night at the club. The outline of a bundle of condoms was so apparent in Anthony's back pocket, I clenched my fists and moved across the street to the entrance. This was risky. He had his next victim in his grasps, and they were in a public space. I couldn't let him get away with it.

I went in and booked a room. I had to move carefully, I had days before Frank would be home, all the time in the world, or so I thought. The more I tried to stifle the urge to kill too soon, the more apparent it became that I was not in control. I began to become worried I would snap and hurt someone who was not the intended target. I was not a serial killer, I was a vigilante maybe, a hero! However, failure to keep myself in check could prove deadly, or land me in prison. And you know what they would do to a guy like me in prison.

I showered and managed to stop the bleeding on the stinging slice on my stomach. I flipped through the channels and stared at the knives and gun on the bedside. I couldn't wait any longer.

Dawning my oversized black jacket with interior pockets, I stood up and stashed my knives inside. I decided on traveling up and down the hallways in attempts to hear the Anthony guy, and who do I see at the ice machine but the dude himself.

"Late night?" I asked him with a chuckle. He jumped, I had startled him. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, standing there filling his ice bucket. He looked like he'd been caught doing something wrong. This must be him.

I pretended to hit buttons on the vending machine, and then tried the soda machine.
"Damn shit never works," I muttered.
"Come here often?" The Anthony dude said.
Bingo.
"Once a week or so," I lied to him.
"You bring girls?" He asked vaguely.
I chuckled at the thought of having copious amounts of sex with different women each week, but continued to lie my way into this strangers trust.

"Oh yeah," I patted the side of my jacket to ensure my knives were still in their rightful place.
He leaned in close, I could smell the absolute stench of whiskey on his tongue as he slurred to me,
"I have a bitch passed out in my room, real good time," he sneered. Fucking pig.
I raised my eyebrows. One great  thing about being a sociopath was being an incredibly wonderful natural actor. Run me my Oscar, baby.

"What's the room number?" I asked him.
"315," he said as he began to walk away.
"I'll knock 3 times," I told him before walking the opposite way back to my bedroom to plot.
I had to bring everything from the hotel room. Wipe the entire thing down, no prints, no Gerard, right? It's not like I had checked into the place under my real name, I'm not a damn fool.
Once I finished cleaning any evidence of me having been in the room, I locked the key inside, and stepped into the hall.

"310,312,314" I muttered as I inched closer to Anthony's room. I rapped on the door 3 times. The door opened, and I was rapidly pulled inside by the culprit himself. He was fully clothed, having obviously done what he wanted with the girl asleep on the bed. He tossed me the room keys,
"Have fun," he said while turning to leave.
Oh, I intend too.
Quickly brandishing my favorite knife from my jacket, I held it's point at the man. He put his hands up,
"Alright man, chill, the fuck?"
"You like raping sleeping girls?" I asked him.
"No man, she came here with me," he stammered.
"I've been following you," was all I needed to say for his entire face to drop, his demeanor to change. Because he knew that I knew, and he knew he was going to die.
"Are we gonna do this the easy way?? Or the hard way?" I asked him jokingly. We're going to do it my way, actually.

The girl bega to stir on the mattress. And awakes, clutching her naked body in absolute terror. I push the bastard into the bathroom and tell him if he moves, I'll kill him.

The girl looks at me with terror in her eyes.
"I'm not gonna hurt you," I promise her, but she tries to scream and so I am left with no option but to cover her mouth with my hand. She thrashes and bites me, drawing blood. FUCK.

The vigilante leaves my body, any pinch of rational thought leaves my body. I think about my cousin, and her boyfriend growing up. I feel his blood in my mouth as I bit into him.  I was trying to protect her!
——-
I wake up at 11am the next morning in my own bed, the bed I usually share with Frank when he is here. I open and shut my eyes a few times, before I am paralyzed by the presence of someone else in the room, standing in the doorway behind me.

It's Frank. Why is he home?
I turn over to see that he is beaten badly, his eyes are black, one of them completely blood ridden, his lips swollen and bloody and he is crying. I rush over to him and he cowers to the ground, so I drop short in my tracks.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no! What have I done? !