A New Kind Of Paint
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- Votes 2
- Parts 1
Fourteen. That's how many disappearances there have been. There's no profile yet with all victims appearing to have no connection. The bodies disappear without a trace but he knows they haven't run away. They've been murdered.
The Artist is highly skilled, her experience above anyone else's. She's proud of that. She has collected all that blood and no one has any idea. But she's okay with that. As long as she keeps collecting the blood. Her paint.
A/N: I have a slight idea of where I want this to go. My first time writing a thriller so some things may be not so great but hey, why not give it a shot. Thanks for reading <3
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Crys Snow has never felt like he belonged in his small southern town of White Chapel. His family sucks, he barely has any friends, and the other kids at school are terrified of him. He wants to matter to someone; anyone who can under the violent darkness he keeps hidden deep inside. He never expected that someone to be a serial killer. Falling for him is a mistake, but maybe, for the first time in his miserable life, this is what it feels like to be wanted. But love shouldn't taste like blood. Should it?
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