Killer Inside

Chapter 10

Everything was alive. I still couldn't show my true feelings but at least I could show something.

Chris lead me back to the meeting room where the police had set up. About few officers mingled around talking to the staff. I saw some walk into the theaters too, to calm the audiences.

Chris left me at a table as he went grab some water. When he returned, my eyes flashed over him. They felt ablaze as I thanked him.

I needed to calm down. Whatever had just happened needed to stop. I rubbed my head, massaging my temples. I slowed my breathing and waited.

I returned almost to normal when I heard an officer approaching. Two in one day. Great.

"Hello. Can I ask you a few questions?" she asked.

"KC? You alright now?" Chris touched my arm as he asked.

"Yeah. I'm good," I muttered.

The officer proceeded to ask questions to us both. I really didn't care. Acting hurt and upset was easy; I just continued until she finally left.

"So there's no school for two weeks," Chris suddenly said.

"What?"

"No school. Because of the murder. Today is Sunday, right?" he asked.

"Yeah. So no school for two weeks... And then we have winter break for Christmas. So basically four weeks." I was putting two and two together.

" I guess. Does the police have any leads?"

"I don't know. I would hope so. Christmas will be pretty miserable if the killer keeps wandering around town."

"Speaking of Christmas... What do you want for your birthday? Seeing as it is the day after."

"Oh, I don't know. You'll think of something. Yours is four days after mine," I reminded him. "We're turning 15 this year aren't we? Dang..."

He laughed. "Yeah I know. Hard to comprehend, right?"

"Definitely." I paused. "Where are you staying now? You like the foster parents you've got alright?"

Chris took a breath. This was a touchy topic.

"No, I don't. But I'm going to have to live with it, won't I? They can't find anyone else who'll take me. And they aren't that bad, but they also aren't like...."

"Mom and Dad," I finished softly for him.

"Yeah. Them." He looked away, frustrated. I knew he was still coming to terms with it.

We both knew it wasn't far why had happened to his parents. My parents were divided by it. I took me years to finally understand why.

My father was in the military before marrying my mom. He had left his friends during an attack because a retreat was called. Dad claimed thy were right behind him. But they weren't. He came back as soon as he could. His best friend died in his arms, Jack. Their other friend was a woman, by the name of Zadie. No one calls her that now. She goes by Lashes, and not her eyelashes. The ones she delivers to your back or face, which ever she deems fitter.

But Zadie lost an eye in the fight and Dad felt responsible for both of them. He swore never again to leave a friend, any friend. Which was why he was so protective of Chris when his parents died.

For my protection after he left, Dad had set up a training program with Zadie. She'd train me twice a week in combat skills. It was something I loved doing, because Zadie wasn't that bad to me. She was protective, like a mother lion. Sometimes she'd come to school with me, or my soccer games. And man, let me tell you. She got some glances.

I guess I can understand parts of what Dad did, but never the whole thing. Never could I leave Chris, that I knew. I glanced at him now, his face passive. He caught me looking and gave a shy smile.

"Shall we go? I've had enough for the day."

I checked the wall clock. Almost 3.

"Yeah."

I grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door. We walked out of the theater after telling the police we already gave a statement. They let us through. We started towards my house, arm and arm.

 

Please try to leave feedback in feedback thread.  Thanks! Besides that, thanks for the comments and as always: Enjoy!


Chapter 11

Pausing at the top step to my house, I turned to Chris.

"Thanks. For helping me today."

He grinned. "Anytime. Maybe under better circumstances next time."

"Agreed. I text you, but do you want to get together this week? Since it's free?" I asked shyly.

"I'd love too." He checked his watch. "It's 4:20. Your mom'll be worried; you should get inside."

"She'll be fine."

I place my hands on his shoulders. Smiling at him first, I hugged him. I could feel his hands wrap around me. We stayed there for awhile before I pulled out. With one more hesitant smile, I reached up and kissed him.

His lips felt smooth and soft under mine. Our teeth hit for a moment and I felt his bit my lip. He was a great kisser; it seemed to last forever. He finally pulled up for a breath and I broke away to my door. I grabbed the handle and pulled in open without a pause. It shut behind me and I stood in my foyer in shook. Turning to the door, I peered out the window next to it that ran floor to ceiling.

Chris was still standing there. I gave little wave, which he returned before walking down the front steps. His hands tucked in his pockets and his head watching the ground. I watched him until he reached the sidewalk, where he turned and shook his head in confusion at me. Then, blowing me a kiss, he walked off.

Falling back against the door, I gave a nervous laugh. Hadn't planned on that. I, too, shook my head in disbelief.

Glancing around, I took in my entry way. Staircase on my left circling up to the top floor. The pathway under the stairs lead to the game room, my game room. On my right was the dining room and through there you could reach the kitchen. With a small bar, the kitchen connected to a casual living room that had a door leading out back.

Straight ahead was a hall that lead to the living room and another hall. Down that hall, you'd reach the guest suite and the "Study" as it was known. It was where my mom and her friends would meet. A bathroom and wash room were that way too.

I jumped to grab the bottom of the staircase. Swinging forward, I swung under the stairs. I could walk under but that was less fun. In my game room, another bath room, living room and a garage connected off. This was where my gang and I hung out.

By my gang, I mean Chris. I did have other "friends" but they weren't really friends. More like allies. He was my only real friend.

I flopped down on the plush coach and flipped on the TV. Kicking my shoes off, I propped my feet on the coffee table before switching on the DVD recorder. It hummed on and started recording the news. I shut the TV off and let the recorder run. This evening I'd watch the news. Planning was more on my mind.

I ducked back under the stairs before climbing them two at a time. Before heading to my room, I checked Mom's room.

Doing a double take, I checked again. Nope, she was there crying alright. I pushed the door open and walked in.

"Mom?" I asked hesitantly.

She looked up, her eyes wide. "Kerri? Oh, Kerri it is you! I was so afraid you had been killed!"

She rushed over and embraced me in a light hug, very awkwardly. I hugged back.

"No I'm fine. Didn't the news saw who was killed?"

"No!! They didn't! I've been worried sick!" Mom exclaimed.

"Oh. It was Teresa Williams, Mom."

"Oh, you poor dear. Are you alright? Do you need me to call Doctor Kim?" she cooed in my ear.

"No, really I'm fine. I don't need a therapist." I pushed her off. She hadn't really been worried, she just wanted me to know that she cared about me. It was still just an act.

"I'm going to relax, OK?"

"That's fine. Dinner will be here at 6 sharp. I have a board meeting at the theater I need to attend," she reminded me.

"Whatever."

I left and walked to my room. Too early to take a shower, I just climbed into some comfy clothes before jumping onto my bed.

I sighed relaxingly and checked the clock. It was only 4:40. My hand grabbed at air above my headboard trying to find the remote for TV and stereo. I finally got it and jabbed on the TV. Changing the channel to the Xbox, I grabbed my controller. Shoot 'em up time.

Quickly turning the stereo on as well, I put on some heavy metal. To annoy Mom. The Xbox loaded up and I started playing with the game in mute.

I played for an hour before Mom came to tell me she was leaving. I waved her out and then shut the Xbox off. The channel switched back to the news and I watched absentmindedly as I let my laptop boot up. I plonked it on my lap and started surfing.

Commercials flashed on and off, and I soon lost interest in the news. Then the crime scene popped up. I unmuted it and listened.

"Hair has been found at the scene of the murder, as well as finger prints, and are being examined as we speak."

My stomach hit the ground as my blood ran cold.

 

Thanks Had to do actually research, sorry for delay. Next one in a day or two. More research is needed. More murders soon, no worries. Feedback appreciated, thank you everyone who leaves it- good or bad. I love it. Anyways. Enjoy!



Chapter 12

Frozen in horror, I waited for the newscasters to continue. But, just to keep me in edge, they took a commercial break instead. I ran my hand through my hair in frustration.

How could have been so stupid! Pulling up an Internet browser, I immediately started researching forensic hair studies and how they are used in the crime field. After a few moments, I found what I was looking for.

Hair could be class evidence or individual evidence. But to be individual evidence, it needs DNA attached. Sometimes, hair contains traces of the follicle or even skin, which can be tested for DNA. But normally in the crime field, hair was used to narrow down a suspect search or even tie a suspect to a victim or case.

Every hair in your head is different, but similar in structure. Asian and African hair are both very different from Caucasian hair. The shape is different as well as pigment distribution and appearance. Hair comes from all over your body too, and hair from different regions, even on one person, have different structures and characteristics.

I also found that two hairs from your head can be very different. One can have a fragmented medulla and the other a continuous one, they can be two different colors and even have different shapes.

Lucky for me, Teresa and I have very similar hair. Therefore, they wouldn't be able to know if it was mine or hers unless there was DNA present. Also, to get a more precise range for a suspect you need at least 12 hairs to narrow it down even in the sights.

But the fingerprints I wasn't sure about. I wasn't on the town's police records, to my knowledge. They might check the LA records too, since it was the closest large city. It was also where Mom works, as an actress.

I closed the laptop and set it aside. The news was back. And it was that stupid lady again, Janie Sulliman or whatever it was.

"Today has been tragic, between the two murders of two young teenagers. Both stories will be coming into view at 6, for the 6 o'clock news. Right now, it is 5:50 and time for your traffic and whether update. See you at 6," she managed to get out before the camera cut to the weatherman.

With a frown, I lay back to think. Slowly, carefully. Like a spider spinning a web, I started to put together my next murder. The idea was genius, one that would hit families everywhere. It would terrify parents and kids alike, and startle the police.

My next target was a small Japanese boy who was first chair cellist in our school orchestra. His parents were in Japan for two weeks and he was home alone. Named Kiyoshi, he was very intelligent and clever. He also had a huge crush on Reika, a very beautiful Japanese girl at school. And that was my way in.

Reika hung out with Chris and I sometimes because we all share the same interest in literature. Chris was a fantastic writer and wrote horror stories that Reika and I read. She also wrote poems and I did some short stories about futuristic worlds. But all loved to read.

And using that, I was going to gain entry to his house.

But as I was constructing this plan, the doorbell rang. I got up and walked downstairs. The doorbell rang again and I hurried to get there.

Throwing it open, I saw the delivery man was here.

"Yes?" I demanded.

"Delivery for Kerri Cadwell?" he asked nervously.

"Yeah that's me. What is it?"

"An order from the Taste of China restaurant down the street."

"Thanks." I grabbed the bags from his hand and closed the door. Mom had already payed.

Setting it down on the kitchen counter, I heard the phone ring. I grabbed it and held it between my ear and shoulder as I emptied the bags.

"Hello?"

"Kerri?"

"Yeah. Who's this?"

"Mary Eld. Emilie Carson and I are wondering if you wanted to go out with us tomorrow."

I was speechless. I knew Emilie and Mary, but only a bit. They've been best friends since 1st grade but are 6 months apart in age.

"I know we aren't really friends but... We're loners and your a loner so, we thought, maybe loners could become friends?" she tentatively asked.

My mind was awhirl and I soon came up with the perfect plan.

"Sure, I'd love to. Where, then, tomorrow?"

"Oh, I don't know. We're at a adult party so I'm using a friend's phone, by the way. Sorry for the extra noise. Emilie was thinking the old tunnels, since we're all into the architectural thing."

I had to admit, I was into architecture.

"That sounds great! When? I have a commitment until 1 tomorrow, any time past then works," I said.

"Ok. 1:30 at the tunnels then? Emilie might be a bit late, her game ends then."

"Yeah that's fine! We'll just explore till then."

"Alright. Until then."

"Night." I hung up and smiled.

I knew what tomorrow would bring. It would be hat trick, three birds with one stone. A prodigy cellist, a math nerd and the daughter of the police chief.

I whistled to myself, proud of myself. For what reason, I didn't know.

I checked the clock and swore as it was 6 sharp. Quickly I shoved the Chinese food onto my plate and ran upstairs. I settled myself in my fluffy bed and turned up the volume.

The hot plate warmed my lap and I wrapped a blanket around me before leaning on the headboard. I was ready as the commercials ended.

 

14 will be out today too. Enjoy!


Chapter 13

"Two tragic murders happened today, their whole stories and the police theories on the killer tonight," Janie Sulliman reported.

The camera switched to a view of the theater and an announcer's voice slowly started to speak.

"Last night the body of Jade Hilly was found stabbed to death in the girls' locker room at Samantha Grey Middle School. This afternoon, the body of another girl, Teresa Williams, was found dead in the C Street theater.

"Both girls were eighth grade students at Samantha Grey, Teresa was 13 and Jade had just turned 14 last month. Both had shown promise of becoming what they dreamed of, Teresa an artist and Jade a flutist.

"As of now, the police are staying silent as for their next move but are urging people to take care in what they do. Some have claimed this killer to a be a serial killer, because of the numbers at each scene.

"Police are warning people to stay in pairs, don't meet late at night or alone at anytime. This killer is striking at all times. Be aware of your surrounds and report anything suspicious at once. Rumor has the the FBI are on this case as well but this has not been confirmed."

The camera kept switching scenes and continued to drown on and on. I waited as it issued warnings, advice and facts until they finally reached the new about the prints and hair after about 15 minutes.

"Police are confirming the rumor that evidence was indeed found at the scene of the crime. The police are announcing that as of now, partial prints and strands of hair were found. The hair cannot identify a suspect but the list of suspects could be narrow if there was enough information. Unfortunately, the hair at the crime scene could belong to the victim because of similarities.

"The hair identified as caucasian and possibly dark blond, brown or brunette in color. The victim, Teresa Williams, had short brown hair and thus the hair could belong to her. The police are stating that the hair could be from the suspect or victim and have asked everyone to still be open to all suspicious activity."

I allowed myself a breath of relief. Hair was confirmed, now for prints. I tuned out until the prints were shown on screen. I caught them out of the corner of my eye before they vanished.

"The police have confirmed that the partial prints match those of the victim however some of the prints do not."

I caught my breath.

"They also don't match anyone on police record, here or LA. However, police state they are confident that they can catch the killer, because of their inexperience and errors they have already made."

I frown. Me? Inexperienced? I think not. And what errors have I made? I racked my brain and was confident that I hadn't left anything to be tied to me. Except the prints. I'd have to be more careful.

"What errors that have been made have not been announced as of now."

Of course. It was a ploy. To make the killer feel pressured. I'd just have to take my kills slower, more carefully. That was fine.

I muted the TV as the announcer continued. I paid no attention. Instead, I grabbed a murder novel off my headboard and started reading.

After about an hour, I shut the TV off. The lights to my room were already off; I crawled user my covers, content. I pulled my laptop onto my lap and pulled up Netflix. It was dark out, at 7:30. Starting up my go-to series, Doctor Who, I scrolled through the seasons. Nothing I really felt like watching today. Continuing to look through Torchwood and Downton Abby, it wasn't until part way through Downton that I found something worth watching.

The screen went black before the intro music started. With a sigh, I laid back to watch.

I could feel my eyelids getting heavier as the night wore on. As my eyes grew to barely slits, I gently moved my computer before falling asleep.

 

As promised. More tomorrow or maybe later. Idk. Enjoy guys!



Chapter 14

After a dreamless night, I awoke Monday morning only to get ready for my combat lessons with Zadie.

In my closet hung my outfit. The tight spandex pants were long and black, reaching past my ankles. I wore a black sports bra under a loose cami that protected my back from the rough material of my shirt. The shirt was a mid thigh length, very light and loose. Plain black, it only had a small white design of letters on the front.

Even though it was light, the shirt was made of a rough material that allowed it to be flexible while being strong and light. I tied the shirt with a black silk belt around my waist when I was done.

I climbed quickly into my outfit before making a quick trip to the bathroom. I fixed my hair into a ponytail and giving myself a once over. After washing my face, I dashed downstairs.

Mom had laid out breakfast for me; I ate quickly and looked at the clock. 8 am. My lesson was at 8:30. I cleared my dish and went to the hall closet were I pulled out the black bag hanging inside.

Checking the contents, I did a mental checklist. Shoes, water, snack, knives, stress balls, small weights. Almost everything. My phone, wallet and an extra set of clothes were missing.

I grabbed the missing things from up stairs and dumped them in my bag. By the front door, my flip flops sat. As I fitted them on, I fished a pen from my bag. Using it, I hastily scribbled on a sticky-note and stuck it to the front door, saying I had left for my lesson.

After slamming the front door, I ran down the front steps and took a path to the small side yard where my bike lived. Pulling it out, I hopped on and buckled my helmet. Then I preceded to race down the driveway and turned onto the street.

After biking for a few minutes, I hit Downtown and maneuvered for a few more minutes to Zadie's house.

It was a one story house, neat and well kept. A beautiful arrange of flowers in the front yard were present almost any time of year and the steps leading to the door were mossy cobblestone, worn away by years of walking. Walking my bike up to the porch, I could smell the flowers' sweet fragrance. Hellebore and Phlox were the strongest, but I could see some Snowdrops and early Winter Jasmine. Even some Algerian Iris.

I took a deep breath and smiled. Even in winter Zadie could still put out beautiful flowers.

The wind reminded of my visit was a cold breeze, going straight through my thin clothes.

Leaving my bike under the overhang, I knocked on the door. I jumped a bit to stay warm as I waited. The door opened and Zadie stood there looking at me.

She wore the same outfit was me, except for the red marks on the sleeves, signaling her rank. As always, Zadie wasn't smiling. Her face was long and thin, no wrinkles and hard cheekbones. Over what would be her left eyes she wore a black bandana tied around her head. But her other eye was fast and quick to judge.

Almost six feet, she was tall for a woman. Her arms and core looked like those of a man, harden by her years of service. Her hair was shoulder length, black and silky. Oddly enough, her single eye was bright blue and as clear as the ocean.

I respected her, of course and she respected me. I liked that about her. She understands me.

She gestured me in and I did so, slipping of my flip flops at the door. I quietly followed her to the basement, no words being exchanged.

Downstairs, I dropped my bag and grabbed my shoes, which looked like tight fitting slippers. Also black, they were thin with a small rubber sole. I slipped them on and moved to the center of the open basement and sorted to stretch.

Zadie walked around me silently watching before speaking.

"There were murders this week. Did you hear?" She paused but before I could answer, she continued. "A rhetorical question, of course you heard. You wouldn't be here otherwise. How'd you know?"

I waited before answering. "Because whenever I have a day off that isn't a weekend, I come here. And so I did."

Zadie nodded approvingly. "At your school, your friends were killed." Her voiced had sympathy,

"Yes..." I spoke softy.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

"Well, your mother wants me to watch you constantly. She's leaving tonight to start filming in Hollywood. She stays until it's done. I'm your guardian until then."

My heart missed a beat. Zadie had always felt more like a mother than Mom had but with my present goals, she'd catch me.

"Why? Because of the killer?"

"It seems so..." She was lost in thought.

"Anyways, weapon training is being stepped up. All training really. I'll be at your house tomorrow morning as well. And for today, we'll be out by 11ish. Ok?"

I nodded. "Works for me." Inside, my mind was scrambling to sort out my schedule. As Zadie grabbed a wooden staff, I realized I'd have to do it later.

I stopped stretching and watched Zadie.

"Staff work. That's what we'll do. While I'm at your house, we'll continue lessons but make them everyday at any time. Light sleeping too. I might pounce on you at night and make you fight me off," she teased. "If I don't crush you first."

I groaned at her jest, but knew she'd probably do it anyways.

Tossing me a staff, she started circling me. I mimicked her.

"I'll want you to keep one of these in your room at all times. In reach of your bed, so you can use it of awakened.

"This is a quarterstaff. If you get good, I'll let you work with a glaive."

I swung it about, testing its' weight and balance. Satisfied, I took why I assumed to be a basic defensive position.

"So, we doing the basic 'Let KC figure it out first hand' drill?" I asked.

"Yes we are," Zadie said with a smile.

I took note of her position and realized her staff was padded. I looked curiously.

"Padded. So you don't get hurt," she said noticing my glance.

Nodding, I took a deep breath. It was going to be a long couple of hours.


With a small smile, Zadie leaped forward, staff twirling. I dodged and tried to relax. She thrust again and connected with my stomach. I groaned and she flipped me with the staff as I held my stomach. I hit the ground, dropping my staff. Zadie's foot crushed the air from my lungs an her staff was inches from up face.

She held for a moment before releasing.

"Up. Again."

With a sigh, I grabbed my staff and took the same position, waiting for Zadie to knock me back down again.

 

Chapter 15

The butt of Zadie's quarter staff hovered inches from my face. Once again, I found myself laying in the ground looking up at Zadie. Even after half an hour, her breathing was still controlled, unlike mine that was heaving and desperate for air.

Time after time for the last 30 minutes, Zadie had continued to flip me onto the padded basement floor.
My back was bruised, and my shoulders and legs stung from the harsh hits of Zadie's staff. Each time I hit the ground, Zadie's single eye flashed with more and more disapproval.

It did so now, as Zadie gave a hard push on my chest with the end of her staff. She turned and walked away, waiting for me to get up. I closed my eyes and rested for a moment on the floor, my breathing rapid and my chest heaving.

"Up!" Zadie commanded. She rapped me on my feet with her staff.

Groaning, I rolled over and looked for my staff. Everything ached. I dripped with sweat and my throat felt raw with every breath or swallow. But I could still manage to see my staff lying a few feet away.

Forcing myself to my feet, I stumbled over to my staff. I grabbed it, and using it to balance, watched my mentor.

Completely undisturbed, she watched me struggle. With a deep breath, I convinced my body it could stand without the help of the staff. Everything protested but I fought to stand.

Before facing Zadie again though, I untied my loose shirt and threw it to the ground. My tank-top underneath soon joined it on the ground, letting me have more mobility in just my sports bra.

I took the defensive position as Zadie started to circle me, her staff held lightly in her right hand be her side. Staying on the balls of my feet, my left foot constantly stayed between Zadie and I. I held the staff lightly in my hands, the left one towards the front of the staff and under it while the right hand was above the staff at its end.

Clumsily, I swung the butt of my staff around to connect with the side of her head. She easily brought her staff up to block it. Zadie pushed my staff down to the ground before shoving the butt into my stomach.

I gasped and got my bearings again. I was getting frustrated. Over and over Zadie was able to block my attacks. Nothing could get through.

Angered, I jabbed for her stomach. She quickly brought her staff around, meeting mine perpendicularly on the side before it connected with her stomach. My staff skidded off hers.

With a shout, I mustered the energy to lash at her face again. This time when she countered, she blocked but twisted my staff around and stepped closer to me. With out staffs locked, she jammed the butt of hers once more into my stomach.

While absorbing the blow, I let go over my staff with my left hand. Concentrating, I pushed my other training aside to focus on this. I kept telling myself this was different, required different skills.

Gripping the staff, I pushed down from above perpendicular to Zadie's staff. Knocking the end into the ground I tried yet again at Zadie's head. All she did was lift the end of her staff to block the blow. I let my staff bounce off, stepping over her staff still point down.

I then swung an over hand blow, leading with my left hand, towards her. Adapting, Zadie rotated her staff to just catch the tip of mine as I let it smoothly slide off back towards me. Using the momentum created, I drove the left end of the staff into Zadie's nose.

Without missing a beat or blinking, Zadie's movements sped up. Her right hand drove the staff downward across her body from its original position by her right ear; her left hand stayed near her right hip. The staff met mine, shoving it aside. Her right hand extended the staff from her body before driving it back around towards my head.

Before I could react, it connected with my face. It continued its path before recoiling back and hitting my left check. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the left end of her staff coming towards me as well. Directly after the right end hit, the left side of the staff came up and cut my right check.

Zadie stepped closer to me and shoved me back, her staff held calmly by her thumbs, even as blood ran from her nose. I dropped my staff as her hands and staff connected with my chest. I fell back but not before Zadie pivoted and snapped a kick to my chest.

I was shocked. Zadie wasn't suppose to do this.

I hit the ground hard, cringing by the blow. I though Zadie would stop there but she didn't, and drove the staff straight into my unprotected stomach incredibly hard.

If I had thought I was short of breath before, nothing compared to this now. I couldn't breath. My mind went blank, letting my old training take over despite my agreement with Zadie: Never let old training get in the way of new training unless told otherwise.

I held what breath I had and rolled into a ball to my right, dodging the next of Zadie's blows. Sitting up the best I could on my knees, I leaned left and kicked Zadie's kneecap with as much force as I could muster. I took a huge gulp of air, causing pain to shoot from my gut out. I screamed at Zadie, but continued to protect myself.

Placing my right hand fingers behind my left hand fingers and locking my thumbs, I created a kind of triangle with my hands that I used to block the blow Zadie directed towards my head.

When the staff connected with my hands, I screamed in pain. My hands felt like they were on fire, but none the less I drove staff butt to the ground. I straddled it to hold it stationary. Bringing my hands back to the same position, I placed them in front of my face. It gave me sight to see what was coming towards me, but also allowed blows to be stopped by my elbows and palms.

As I did this I screamed at Zadie to please stop. Adrenaline raced through me. Blood and swear dripped from my face. As everything started to slow down, the pain came rushing towards me.

My head throbbed. My feet stung. My back was littered with bruises like a canvas. Arms, legs and stanch held marks to make a boxer jealous. I noticed a cut across my stomach as it shot pain when I took another breath. I clutched it, feeling the blood seep through my fingers. Sweat mixed with blood dripped down my face, hitting the ground around me.

I felt tears spring up but didn't even have enough energy to cry. My vision swung in and out of focus. Distantly, I felt the staff slack beneath me and a cry echoed constantly in my head.

Another wave of pain hit as I took a breath. Too much, I fell to the ground. My head hit and I blacked out, my hand still clutching my wound.

 

WARNING. This chapter does feature explicit themes including blood, murder, drowning, killing, dying etc. You have been warned. But besides that, Enjoy! More soon.


Chapter 16

When I awoke, I was propped up in a soft bed. My headache was gone but I could feel my muscles ache, though much less than I would have thought. I looked around.

The room was a small bedroom; I was in a small twin bed dressed in white sheets. The walls were a pale green with brown trim. There was a desk and chair, bedside table, lamp and computer that also were located in the room.

I sat up a bit more and realized I was only wearing a fluffy blue bathrobe, and just the bathrobe. Nothing else at all. As I tried to recall what I was doing here, memories of my training came rushing back.

As I was piecing it together, Zadie walked in. She had changed from her combat uniform to swear pants and a tank top.

Her face was calm and her hair let down. She gazed softly at me, and though I knew it'd kill her to admit it, she was sorry. I could see it in her eye.

Grabbing the desk chair, she sat down backwards in it, resting her arms on the back. She rolled over to me and smiled.

"Hey there, solider," Zadie said quietly.

"Do everyone who you beat up become soldiers?" I asked.

"Not always." She paused. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. Well, I do. It was my training. But, that doesn't make it right."

I was silent. "How'd I get here?"

"You blacked out. I carried you up two flights of stairs to my bathroom. I gave you a bath, cleaned you up. You came to a couple times, just long enough to make you take a few pills. They should help with the aches, bruises and pains. And the headaches."

"You have me a bath?"

"Yup."

"Not sure how I feel about that," I said awkwardly.

Zadie laughed, a rare thing. She spun the chair around to face me properly. Reaching over, she tucked a loose strand if hair behind my ear. I made a face but she insisted on it.

"Get some rest. You haven't been out too long, only a little over an hour. It's almost 11:20. Sleep until 12:30 at least."

"I have a... Thing. It's at 1:30 with some friends," I blurted out.

"Oh? Friends? Not Chris? Huh... Well, if you're alright by 1, then I might let you go. Might." Zadie stood up.

"Ok."

Leaning over, Zadie kissed my on the forehead. "Sleep well, my little solider."

Zadie pushed the chair back under the desk as she left. I closed my eyes and fell asleep once more.


---------

My dreams haunted me. The kills came back, more real than ever. I couldn't understand it. They didn't bother me, I just wanted them gone. I was planning my next kill, all the images did was get in the way.

Constantly I tried to put them out of my dreams. Finally, I managed to get a bit of kill-free sleep.

When I woke, I felt refreshed and calm. Trying to stand, I found that I could. I walked unstably out of the room and down the hall. I quickly gained confidence in my movements, soon being able to walk almost normally.

Managing fairly well, I got down the stairs alright. Zadie was relaxing on her couch. When I walked in, she smiled, walked over and embraced me.

"Hey," she murmured,

"Hey," I replied.

"You feeling ok? Head, back, legs? I went hard in you."

"Yeah you did," I teased. "No, I'm fine. Time?"

"Little past 1. You sure?"

"Yes, I promised I'd visit them."

Zadie looked me over. "Alright then. Text me if you need anything."

"Will do," I said with a smile. "Clothes?"

Zadie smiled back.

It took me about 5 minutes to change. I gave Zadie one last hug.

"See you tomorrow," I told her.

I jumped on my bike, bag over shoulder. I pedaled slowly off, giving Zadie a wave.

Once around the corner I sped up my biking. I reached the tunnels in mere minutes because Zadie's house was located near them on the edge of town.

I could see Mary already there. I locked my bike across the street, careful not to put it on any dirt. I propped it on a lamp post, because there were no houses for a mile or two.

I walked across the street, only walking on concrete. My bag still was on my shoulder. A wind picked up and I remembered the hair. Out of my bag, I pulled a beanie.

I shoved it down over my ears before putting my leather gloves on. Completely black leather, they were tailored to my hands.

When the concrete ended, I walked on the gravel over to the tunnel, a hundred yards or so from the street.

Moss covered most of the outside, the inside was sheltered from the elements by the hill it was built into. It had been an old mining tunnel, no one had used it for years.

Mary heard the crunching gravel and turned to see me. Light brown hair, freckles and green eyes, she looked just like her father. She smiled, I smiled back.

"KC! Nice to see you."

"You're here early. I didn't expect you to be her."

"Dad's in the force, as you know, and he's been making a huge deal about the killer. I left early to prove I could handle myself."

Or so you thought, I mused to myself. Soon, Mary's father would realize no one was safe.

"Walk with me? I just had combat lessons. Need to freshen up," I lied as we started towards the plain grey building that held the bathrooms.

I questioned Mary casually about the killer, Mary revealed that she hang heard much.

"He kills quickly and efficiently. Blends in with the crowd, is someone the teens recognize as trustworthy. Dad's been asking me to help but there's not much I can do. I given him names but are all dead ends." She shrugged. "I plan to have him caught."

I opened the bathroom door. It had two stalls and two sinks. The door push inward, and when fully open almost blocked the pathway from the sinks to the stalls.

Mary entered one of the stalls, I headed for the sink. Instead of "freshening up", I used a quick hardening clay I had bought at the craft store last week. I plugged the hole in one of the sinks.

There was a small shelf between the sinks that I put my bag on. Out of it, I pull two long knives. I kept talking to Mary, leading her on.

I slipped into the other stall and examined them. About nine inches in length, the blades were wicked sharp. Standard combat knives, they didn't carry any extra weight. About an inch thick in diameter at the base, the blade bulged slightly towards the top before narrowing out into a point. The bulge was barely noticeably but gave it that perfect balance for throwing if need be.

I heard Mary exit and wash her hands. I quietly unlocked my stall as she began to explain more about the murder.

"Dad wants me to get opinions. Of other students. What do you think?"

I froze, but stayed silent. She was inches away, just around the corner. I could smell her. Hear her breathing.

"KC? What do you think?" She waited for a reply.

A knife in each hand, the blades pointed down and backwards.

I stepped around the corner and covered Mary's mouth with my left hand, the blade lying flat against my forearm held between my little finger and thumb. I my right hand pressed the knife to her throat and pushed her against the door to the bathroom.

Mary's eyes grew wide in fright but she stayed silently. I smiled, beginning to taunt her. I spoke slowly.

"Your father was right. You should be more careful. I'm the killer."

She tried to speak but I pressed her mouth closed.

"No, no words. Not yet. Only when I say so."

I was a good couple of inches taller, giving me the advantage. I saw her hand fumble for the door handle. The hand on her throat lashed downward, striking the hand squarely. A clean stab through, blood started to pour from the wound.

My eyes never left hers, which closed as she tried not to scream. The knife, covered in blood, resumed its position on her neck, dripping Mary's own blood down her neck.

"Now then, let's try this again. You have a message you want me to give your father? Anything at all?"

She nodded, tears running down her face and over my hands.

"What is it?" I released my hand slightly so she could speak.

"That I love him, Mom and Julia, take good care of Missy and to stay true to himself and others. And to give everyone a chance." She stared sadly at me.

"I don't know why you're doing this KC. I know you don't want to. I can see it in you. Just please find out before anymore lives are taken away."

I was shocked. She was ready to accept that she was going to die. I looked at her. But as I saw her confidence, it made me angry.

"You've known nothing of me, and never will!" I shouted.

I grabbed her shoulders and threw her towards the sink. She grabbed it to steady herself and I closed in. The right hand knife gouged from Mary's right shoulder to left hip across her front. My left hand did the opposite, left to right. Her screams echoed around me.

Blood splattered my face and gloves, cover floor and sink. I grabbed the bloodied front of her shirt and turned Mary around to face the sink.

I heard her whisper, "May God have mercy on your soul."

I then slit her throat, execution style. Blood from her chest and throat poured into the clogged sink, pooling. I held Mary there until the sink was filled half way with blood. I then tossed the body aside.

"And yours."

I grabbed my bag from the shelf, covered with blood. Going into the larger stall, I took the wipes from my bag out.

My bag, the knives and my clothes I cleaned back to their original state. I then checked my phone. It was 1:40. I texted Zadie complaining that my bike broke down and my headaches were back. I told her I had gone to get food before attempting to fix it. I then got Mary's phone from her pocket and texted myself, asking where I was. I responded and put Mary's phone back.

I heard a car pull up and Emilie yell bye at her mom. The car left and I heard Emilie call for us.

"Mary? KC?"

"In here!!" I yelled back.

I grabbed a knife and waited just behind the door. Emilie swung the door open and screamed. I slammed it closed behind her, grabbing her hair. I pushed her over Mary's body and to the blood filled sink.

I shoved her face forward into the blood, attempting to drown her. She bucked and kicked at me but I wouldn't budge. I firmly held her under. But as we continued I fight, my hands were soaked again in blood and my grip on Emilie's hair loosened.

She managed to push me off, grabbing a breath. Blood now coated her face and hair. She tried to fight me off but I grabbed her once more and forced her under. I had held her for only a few seconds but she felt considerably weaker. I could also feel the drugs taking an effect on me.

But I continued to hold Emilie down, until, slowly, she drowned in her best friends blood.

 

As requested. Again, bloody in this one as well. More tonight or tomorrow. We'll see how fast I can write.

Thanks for all the feedback, it really does help!! Please keep posting if you haven't done already. Questions, ideas, request- anything.

Besides that, enjoy!!


Chapter 17

Emilie's body hit the ground. Her hair was matted with blood. Her throat contracted, trying in a final effort to eject the blood from her. But instead, the blood slowly seeped from Emilie's mouth. Every few seconds, a blood bubble would pop.

It was sickening noise and a horrific sight. I just stood there looking at the two bodies before me. My hands were soaked and shaking. I tried to take in the scene before me.

The light colored tiles on the floor were a dark red. Blood had splattered the walls, like a child splattering paint. Emilie's body lay underneath the sink, Mary's body a foot or so away. The sink was filled with blood, and like a sick witch's cauldron it dripped down the sides, a drop falling every minute.

Emilie had blood covering her entirely, all down her front. Her hair was starting to clump together from the drying blood. A thin layer of blood was also hardening over her face, her features shadowed. Her mouth slightly split. Eyes closed. Hands covered in the blood of her friend.

Mary's gashed where deep, a couple inches in places. Blood from her wounds was clotting in the sink, but blood still covered her. Eyes wide open, they should her last plea. They weren't surprised or upset. She did have tears but her eyes were smiling, at me.

Her words can rushing back: God have mercy in your soul.

"And yours," I whispered again, voice cracking. My strength then gave way.

I fell to my knees and looked at the two friends. The drugs Zadie had given me combined with killing two people had physically worn me out. Add on the lessons I had received.

I sat there I silence, taking it all in.

I had feelings now, for the bodies. Again, I was satisfied but not completely. Like I had eaten a snack to tie me over until dinner. I felt ashamed, I had down a sloppy job with the murders. But, I thought, at least I got it done. And because you that, I was proud. Why? I still didn't know.

My knife still in hand, I crawled over to the bodies and cut off some of their hair, tucking it in my pocket. I stood, and stepped over the bodies to the sink.

My face looked gaunt and shallow. My eyes were dark and mischievous, planning and desperate, even bold. I didn't recognize myself. This was the killer inside.

The beast inside me purred as I understood. I was a killer. I couldn't stop it. Nothing I ever did could stop me. I gave myself a cruel smile. I was happy about that.

A buzzing phone broke my concentration. No, no, no!! I wasn't happy about that! I... Could never be happy about that. Never. And yes, I could stop myself. I'd just have to figure out how. For now, I'd just have to keep my hunger controlled.

The phone buzzed again and I pulled it from my pocket. It was Zadie, asking if I wanted a ride. I texted back

Zadie: U need ride?
Me: No, thx I'm good. Got it 2 work. Heading over now.
Zadie: K

I shoved the phone back into my pockets and started to wash my face. The plot with the phones would back up my alibi.

Oh crap. I started to think about it. Texts could be traced. And, were held by the company for a short while. Damn. Well, there was nothing that I texted to her to trace me.

Crouching, I found Mary's phone. I dropped it into sink filled with blood. I found Emilie's phone and did the same. Standing, I straightened my hair and cleaned up my appearance.

Blood covered my shirt and pants. I rinsed my hands and cleaned most of the blood off my shirt. There was a reason it was tye-dye. But my pants where another matter. They were jeans, and not going to wash easily. Out of the bag, I pulled a spare pair I kept there always.

Both jeans were dark, the blood didn't show too much but still. Be careful. I bundled up the jeans and shoved them in my bag.

Lastly were my knives. Squatting next to Mary, I rolled her right forearm over. First, I carved the word "FOUR" in her arm. Then, using my gloved finger, I wrote in blood "FIVE" next to Emilie. I washed my knives and put them in in the side pocket of my bag on the inside, hiding them from someone doing a quick check of my bag.

Bag over my shoulder, I stood at the door and looked at the scene. Nothing of mine. Perfect. The blood pooled a bit around my shoes though, since the bathroom was on a very small incline and the blood ran towards the door. That would be fine, for what was coming up. It's be understandable why I had blood on my shoes.

I jogged out to my bike, walking on the grass to not leave any prominent footprints and so the blood on my shoes could be tracked. I grabbed my bike and walked to the tunnel first. Then to the bathroom. Opening the door, I took a step and dropped my bike

I smirked. Now, time to fake the poor, innocent friend who had a bike problem and didn't get here fast enough to save her friends. I started dialing for the police.