Never in my life did I think I would be the prime suspect in my husband’s murder. But looking back at the choices I made, it’s not so strange that people think I’m a killer.
I’m not as innocent as I portray myself. Looks can be deceiving.
However, I won’t go down for this. Not when I don’t deserve it.
I should’ve known it would end up this way. That man … Phoenix Sullivan … The moment I saw that deadly gaze in his eyes, the dark way he looked at me, I knew I was in trouble.
And something tells me there’s more where that came from.
This game of catch won’t be ending any time soon.
Look at her, in her fancy white dress, with her fake blonde curls, and that sweet, deliciously fake smile. Don’t you just want to fuck that pretentious smile off her face? I do. And I will.
She has no idea what’s coming for her. Or her husband.
You see, I’m not a nice person. When I have my eyes set on something, I do it. In this case, it’s killing the man she’s married to. She probably won’t like it, but that’s not my problem. She’s not my target … and she’d better not turn herself into one.
I’m here with a purpose, and nothing stands between me and my goal. Not even a pretty girl with an ass worth fucking. Nobody stands in my way, and if they do, they die.
Too bad for her I’m like a fucking canon, and when I shoot, shrapnel flies everywhere. If she gets caught in the fire, that’s on her.
When I want something, I’m going to get it, no matter the price. Whether it’s killing someone, or fucking her.
She wants justice, I’ll give her justice … my justice.
I bet she isn’t willing to pay the price.
Too bad for her I always win.
Tonight’s the perfect night to kill.
I can feel it in my veins; that undeniable urge flowing through me on nights like these. Exciting like drugs; the murderous kind.
Clouds prevent the moonlight from bursting through and cover the land in perpetual darkness. There are plenty of lanterns lighting the road ahead, but not the alley I’m headed for. In front of me is a small puddle of water, so I walk past the side to avoid my new leather shoes from getting wet. You see, I just bought these, and I prefer to keep them clean for as long as possible. They will probably lose their shine after tonight’s killings.
Oh well, it’s not like I’ll need these shoes for anything other than entering the party ahead and pretending like I belong. Gotta be fancy enough for the big crowd, because of course, someone in jeans couldn’t be nearly important enough as someone in a suit.
Bunch of fake fuckers. If I could, I’d burn the whole fucking place to the ground with them in it, but I’d rather not end up in jail if I can avoid it. Killing has to be done as inconspicuous as possible, so nobody will know it was me until I’ve already disappeared from sight.
It’s my thing, it’s what I do, or rather what I’ve become. After all these years, I don’t even remember what it was like to not be a murderer. Not that I want to remember; hell, I prefer this life over any other, especially the lives of those people in that party who are about to witness death.
I’ve got to admit, it is a rush. I just love killing, especially when it’s for the right reasons. Those reasons are obviously always to benefit me. Why the fuck else would I murder people if not for my own pleasure? Well, and for the money that sustains me, of course.
What can I say? I’m the scum of the earth, the disgusting vile that creeps in the corners to jump you at night … and I don’t regret being like this for even a second.
I turn into the alley and come face to face with a bulking, barely-fitting-in-his-suit, bodyguard. I cock my head as he frowns at me, probably wondering what I’m doing here.
“Excuse me, you can’t come here,” he says as I walk closer.
I smile. “Why not? This is where the party is.”
He folds his arms, making himself seem larger, but all it does to me is make it more laughable. “This is the rear entrance. If you want access, you have to take the front door. If you have a ticket, that is …”
He doesn’t believe me? Even in my fucking fancy suit? Well, fuck him. I wanted to spare his life, but questioning my slickness isn’t something one can get away with on my watch.
“Oh, I have a ticket, all right,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “How dare you talk to a guest like that.”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” he says, “But I’m not allowed to let anyone pass through this door. You will have to go to the front entrance where they can check your ticket. Sorry.”
Of course they all think I’m not a guest, because let’s face it … I look like a guy you wouldn’t want your daughter to talk to, even if it was in broad daylight in your own fucking home. With my piercings, black hair, and merciless attitude, I usually scare people to death. I have the kind of face you’d see in your nightmares … except, when you see me in real life, you’re really dead.
Like this guy.
“Yeah, yeah … so let me get this straight …” I shuffle around, looking at the floor, distracting him. “You’re basically telling me I can’t walk here, even though this is a public alley, just because this isn’t the ‘correct’ entrance to the party I’m supposed to be attending?”
“I’m only doing my job.”
I look up at him. “So am I.”
In a fraction of a second I’ve grabbed his coat and flip it over his head. I twist around, to his back, and wrap it around his neck. His screams are quickly muffled by the fabric stuffed in his mouth, choking him as I drag him back into the corners of the alley. He claws at the coat, desperate to free himself before time runs out. Stumbling backwards, we fall to the ground, and I wrap my legs around his chest to prevent him from moving. His body fights for survival, his legs thrashing, his hands punching in the air. It’s no use. I will win this fight, as I always do. He’s losing his energy fast, and his muscles are losing their strength. It won’t be long now. With his fingers growing whiter every second, all the blood is rushing to his face, in a last attempt to breath. But it’s already too late; there is no oxygen left and his lungs are shutting down.
His legs stop moving and his hands drop to the floor, the last groan slipping off his tongue like a ghost leaving his body.
Death has made his entry.
I unwrap the coat from his face and crawl out from underneath him. Then I drag his body to the dumpster in the back and put him on the side facing the brick wall. I take his coat off his dead body and swing it around until it’s long and thin, like a rope. Then I tie it around a handle of the dumpster and tightly wrap the other end around his neck. I make sure his body is positioned right and the tension on the coat is just right, so that when the paramedics or police find him they’ll think exactly what I want them to think; that this was a mindless suicide with no further need to investigate.
Hopefully, they won’t find him before morning, when I’m long gone.
Before I leave I fish in his pockets and take out a rather convenient card that will grant me access to the backdoor of the building. Smiling at him, I say, “Sorry, dude. Business is business. No hard feelings.”
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