Love is full of suffering and sacrifices. It hurts; it's painful; it's torturous. A vicious killer, who wanders into Y/N's hometown, falls victim to love's deadly spell the moment he lays eyes on the beautiful flower who speaks to him with pure kind...
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"Shit!" His muttered curse is what brought Y/N's attention back to the murderer, and as soon as she looked into his soft brown eyes, she took off screaming, moving quickly towards the exit. Springing into action, Rich darts out of the living room and catches her swiftly before covering her mouth with a gloved hand. The girl cries fearfully, clawing at the man's arms while struggling violently to escape. His mind was one big blur in that moment and so full of panic. All his thoughts were filled with curses.
'Fuck! What do I do?! Shit! Shit! Shit!' Rich was at a loss. Normally, in a situation like this, he would simply slit the person's throat, but this is Y/N, his rose, his flower. He could not hurt her so.
'What do I do?! What do I do?!' He squeezes her body tighter and feels guilty upon hearing a whimper flee her lips. He, then, grunts, feeling teeth bite down on his palm, causing him to instinctively jerk her head up, making her look up at him. Those teary eyes nearly made him choke up as he gave an apologetic look to her.
'Knock her out! I just have to knock her out.'
"Forgive me," he whispers before suddenly slamming her head hard against the nearest wall. He heard her squeal under his hand before falling limp out of his arms to the floor. He worries he might've done it too roughly, but she should be fine, aside from a bruise on the head. Disoriented, Y/N groans and peers up at him through blurred vision. Her body felt heavy and could not move, her mind spinning as she loses consciousness.
"What the fuck!" Rich whisper-screamed while clutching clumps of his blonde locks and marching back into the living room.
'This was not supposed to happen! Everything was moving so smoothly! Why did this have to happen now?!' Rich kicks at the corpses to let out his frustrations, practically putting a hole in the deadman's face with his boot.
'It was supposed to be perfect! Of all the places, this just had to be the one she came to!' He stops himself once he gets out of breath and looks around the room with a slightly clearer head.
'Okay, okay, I can work around this. I've been in tight spots before. I just gotta leave the crime scene and that should be enough. She didn't see my face, thank god.' Rich peers into the hall at his unconscious love and frowns at the sight of her slumped over on the floor. Maybe he was looking at this the wrong way?
What if it was a sign to act, to take her now instead of later? As tempting as that was, he is not ready yet. He needs more time. The killer crouches down beside Y/N's body and brushes her hair off of her face, his fingers lingering on the skin even though he could not feel its softness through the gloves. His heart hurts seeing the darkening bruise forming on her forehead.
"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to hurt you, but you scared me. I panicked. You were going to run off, and I just couldn't let that happen." After lowering his scarf, Rich sets a gentle and caring kiss on the bruise as he holds her cheeks. "I hope you will forgive me for this. I truly did not know he was family. I was saving that for the end of our time in this town, so nothing would be tying you down." He grunts, feeling his eye twitch and rubs it, getting blood all over his face, but he was not bothered by it. There are wipes in his bag that he can use to wash it later. Hearing a soft moan, he holds his breath and watches the girl slightly move her head and scrunch her brows. She'll be up soon.
"I have to go now, but I'll see you soon, love." He kisses her cheeks softly before raising his scarf over his lips and standing up. The man rushes into the living room one last time to fetch a blanket and pillow from the couch and brings it back to Y/N to cover her and put something soft beneath her head. "I swear, I will make this up to you later. Bye for now."
With that, he takes off his shoes to keep from tracking blood and runs to the hiding place, where he had stayed during his separation from his flower, leaving the rest up to fate. He should be all right. This might not even be linked to his other murders considering the messy work and lack of style. He left no message and allowed a witness to stay standing. He had bigger concerns, though. He's getting sloppy, more slack. He was caught twice today. It can only go downhill from here. His only hope is to lie low, scrounge all the money he can and buy their new home in secret, maybe even stay there for a while if needed be, though he would rather not leave without Y/N. It's time to finish this. He cannot stay in this town for much longer.
A pounding in the head, similar to a beating drum, was what Y/N woke up to as she groans out in pain and forces open her eyes. Her surroundings were fuzzy and unclear, her mind spiraling and making her want to vomit; in fact, she could taste a hint of bile in her throat as she gazed down at herself. Her fingers twitch, feeling fabric over them, and after a moment of trying to focus, she realizes there is a blanket draped over her.
'Am I... on the floor?' Confused, she struggles to sit up and looks down at the pillow that was under her head.
'What? What hap—' Y/N slaps a hand over her mouth when it all came rushing back. The blood, the man, the body of her cousin and his fiancée.
"Oh, god!" Scrambling to her feet, she runs over to the living room, almost falling to the floor three times and partially running into the doorway on the way. She lets out a loud scream and sinks back down with hands slapped over her mouth as she cries at the sight. She pries her eyes off them, breathing heavily and looking down the hall again before rushing out the door. Y/N tries to capture her breath once outside, breathing the crisp, autumn air and patting her pocket in search of her phone.
"Thank fuck!" she exclaims after finding it and quickly dials the police. They advise her to stay calm as the cars are sent. They find her shivering on the doorstep, hysterically crying her eyes out. She watched as they carried out the bodies in black bags while explaining what had happened through stutters and sobs, telling them snippets of what she had heard the murderer say. All she could recall were apologizes, though, and nothing more. Why was she spared? If that was the killer, why hadn't they just murdered her and be done with it? Is he torturing her? Why? Why? That's all she could ask herself as she was taken to the police station, where she calls her parents. Perhaps it wasn't the same man? It could've been a robbery gone wrong or something of that matter and had walked in on it. After all, the murderer after her had always left messages on the walls and displayed their victims gruesomely. Whatever the case, she was just glad to be alive, but felt more traumatized than ever now.
