Long Road To Ruin

He kills them all without remorse, but very much with reason.


1. Demise

She was cornered, backed against a wall, with nowhere to run, her eyes wide with terror. Trembling from head to toe, Vivian started to whimper, gazing at the man in front of her; he had a smug look on his face, his brown eyes narrowed in hatred. He brushed his free hand through thick, brown hair, and spat on the ground near her foot.

“What do you-?” Vivian gasped as he reached out for her with his bruised hand, a pissed expression now crossing his features. He touched her cheek and sneered.

“Want?” he whispered. “I thought that was obvious. We’re here aren’t we? I’ve backed you into a corner, haven’t I? Look in my opposite hand, at what’s in it. Now, Vi, tell me what could I possibly want from you?”

“To kill-”

He smiled at her and Vivian wondered vaguely if he had actually been a nice person years ago, and what had happened to make him this way. He watched her green eyes flicker with doubt.

“You’re wondering whether this is a game or not, aren’t you? I can assure you, it will be over quickly, and you will not enjoy this, kitten.”

She closed her eyes and a tear ran down her cheek. She heard his footsteps approaching slowly, and as he grabbed her, she gasped. The wasn’t due to fear, but to shock, because his lips were pressed roughly against her own, one hand in her hair, and the steel of the blade against her neck.

She bit his lip and he groaned, stepped back, and struck her across the face. Stunned by what just happened, Vivian failed to notice that the blade had slipped across her throat, making small incisions on her skin. She reached a hand up to touch her neck, her fingers coated with blood.

He fisted a hand further into her brown, wavy hair and thrust her head back against the brick wall. A groan issued from Vivian’s lips as her head pounded from the impact, her eyes slowly drifting shut. She concluded that this was where she was set to die, probably thrown haphazardly in a nearby dumpster, or just sprawled out on the cold concrete for the rats to feast on.

A shudder passed through Vivian’s body and she touched the murderer’s face gently before shutting her eyes and whispering, “Why are you doing this to me?”

He pressed the blade harder against her skin, feeling it open, and watching the blood drip down her neck, and onto her chest. She gasped, making a choking noise, and reached for her throat, her fingers slipping away as the blood continued to pour onto her stomach.

“Because you’re beautiful, Vivian, and I have watched you for a long time, always wondering when I would get my chance to touch you. But you’ve denied me time and time again.” he whispered, touching her hair. “You know who I am now, don’t you, you fucking bitch?” He watched her eyes widen as he held her at arms length so that he stayed relatively clean until the right time.

She nodded slowly and he let her go, so that her lifeless body now crumbled to the cold, filthy ground. He stared at her as one of the streetlights came on several feet from him. The blood, he realized, had splattered against his cheek, and he reached into his back pocket and took out a rag, cleaned off his face, wiped the knife clean, and left the alley way.

He walked down the street, into the nearest bar, and nearly grinned when people staring whispering, because of his appearance. He stood still for a few moments before walking slowly over the bartender and looking him dead in the eye. He could hear people behind him shifting uneasily and he chuckled.

“There’s been a murder,” he said calmly, turning to stare at all of the people in the bar. The fear on their faces was enough to make him feel aroused. He wanted to kill them all, every last mother fucking one. He turned toward the bar. “Now, call the cops and hand me a Scotch.”

“You sound very calm for someone covered in blood,” said the bartender.

“I tried to help the woman, but there was just too much blood,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to call the cops or just let her die?”

The bartender – his name tag read Steve – reached for the phone and hit three buttons. “There,” he said as he waited for someone to pick up.

“Good,” said the bloody man. “Can I have my goddamn drink now?”

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