You're My Favorite Murderer (Chapters 10-12)

Chapter 10: 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘉𝘰𝘺

It's only been a handful of months since we've crossed paths but seeing her, even just the back of her; those dark waves save for her silver streak, arises too many emotions. The most prominent being hate. Pure hatred for this fucking woman. The way she burrowed her way into my skin, into my very fucking soul and tore it apart with her red-marbled blade. Passion, anger and pain are among some of the others but hate overshadows them all hands down.

Curling my fists together, grinding my surgically sharpened fangs and teeth back and forth I swallow down every insult and word laced in venom. But it's fucking hard, unfortunately like my dick simply at the thought of getting anywhere near her. Gradually I step closer to the little cubical encasing this whirlwind of a bitch. And I mean that in the harshest of terms. You don't do the shit she pulled and get away with it Scott-fucking-free. I'm going to make this filthy little slut of mine pay, one way or another.

"What the fuck are you doing here" she whispers more to herself, still refusing to meet my eyes. I can see the tension rising as I step closer, feeling my presence closing in affects her, good. My hands itching to close around her pretty little neck and just squeeze. Shoving my fists into my jean pockets, feeling for my own blade, the weapon an extension of me I creep closer, hovering as close as I can get.

"At the moment, none of your fucking concern. Now may I ask what you are doing here exactly, Miss Doughty?" The minute I say the name she's out of the chair spinning towards me, fingers clenched tightly to her side, knuckles white.

"Don't you fucking say that name. Ever. Again." She hardens the last two words but I'm too amused at how easily it is to rile her up with only half of a name.

"Oh, I see I've hit a nerve there. What's the matter Jewel" I lay the first name that I found out through my staking on thicker "scared someone will find out you're not who you say you are?"

"Lower your fucking voice you asshole!" Her hands come up to grip my tight white t-shirt, bunching the clean fabric in her claws; black manicure I remember well. Without realising it, we've both closed the distance enough our lips are merely touching, noses pressed up against each other.

"I don't have to listen to a damn word you say slut" I inch closer, simply for the fun of getting to her. "Or did you forget that?" The places she stabbed me starting to pulse, reminiscing the moments she drove her blade into my body too many times.

Pursing her lips into a tight frown she moves in just barely an inch and crashes her lips to mine. Despite the hot hatred I have for her burning through my veins I don't pull back, moving my lips with hers, my piercing crushed between the two of us, her tongue fighting for dominance in my mouth. "Stalker Boy" she moans into my mouth. I groan, her lips too delicious to separate from before she moans it louder, longer. "Stalker Boy, Stalker Boy."

Suddenly my face is twisted to the side, the vision of our heated passion of hatred dispersing with the connection of her hand smacking across my face. "Stalker Boy" she growls the name, not knowing what the fuck else to call me aside from "asshole". "If you're quite done unnecessarily intruding in my life, again, you want to explain what the fuck you're doing here?"

Pushing myself off the desk and away, I circle to the front where I saw some overly-done-makeuped bitch conversing with her. A frilly skirt much too young for the twenty-something to pull off even adequately. "I told you, none of your fucking business" I mutter harshly, shaking my head with all the arrogance I didn't show off in our first meeting.

"Well then kindly refrain from killing anyone else before I've even gotten fully settled in."

Her words confuse me. "What the Hell are you talking about?" I don't dare share the fact that I haven't had a good killing in too long, my secrets no longer her concern.

Rolling her eyes, she pulls up the article I barely caught a glimpse of over her shoulder, holding her phone out to me showing a blurry dead body. "This is your work, right? You like them without a head" she laces venom into each word though I'm highly unaffected by her hostility.

"Doing some stalking of your own Darkside" I question, genuinely curious though persistent to pretend otherwise.

Yanking the phone back she puts her hands on her hips not pleased at my avoidance. "Don't change the subject. Was this you, or wasn't it?"

Taking in her fully, the oversized hoodie and leggings a blast from the past I grind my teeth harder against each other, more so defining the sharp line of my jaw, this fucking woman. Shutting my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose I blow out a breath before muttering a quick "no".

I can hear her gasp of surprise before I lift my storm grey eyes back to witness the shock painting each of her delicate features. Her face contorted in a vision of confusion. "What do you mean no. I've done my research I know you remove their heads."

Shaking my head, seeing as she's fallen so short, disappointment creeping in along the edges of my barely there psyche I lay into her like I wanted to do months ago but was holding myself back because of my ridiculous infatuation. "If you actually had a brain in that melon, you call a head, you'd have noticed I only removed one head one time." I step closer to her desk forcing her back. "And if you actually bothered to do more, actual research, instead of just reading one damn article and considering yourself an expert on all things me, you'd have realised half the shit those motherfucking reporters and tabloids print isn't anywhere near the truth."

I'm hardly speaking anymore, my words growls, deep and low. The hatred I tried to dilute coming back ten times stronger. I can hardly look at her. "So, tell me little Darkside" I say with a bite in my cocky tone, "how many fucking articles did you read before you declared yourself an expert?" She stands frozen, big brown eyes wide, my tone taking her aback. "One? Two? Four? Ten?" I creep closer with each question as she continues to sneak back, thinking the desk is enough of a barricade to protect her. It's not and I prove it as I hop over and continue to grill her. "How many? Hmm? Did you read any articles or just little click-bait blurbs? Did you look up local murders? Did you look beyond the news or do any other research? What did you fucking read?" I let my voice raise, the anger boiling over with each step closer I force myself to take.

Once again, I'm pressed up against her, hovering over the frail thing, practically foaming at the mouth with all my bittersweet hatred.

"One article, that's it" she whispers, tearing her eyes away from mine.

Gripping her chin tightly, I force her gaze back on me, inching closer still. "Pathetic" I spit in her face before releasing her. Stepping back a couple paces I plant myself in her chair, arms crossed showing off my sleeves of tattoos that had her melting between my fingers a few short months ago. What feels like a completely different time now, different people, us but not us. "Well, if you're actually interested to know how I do things, I'd be willing to divulge." I pause, quirking a brow. "For a price."

Sitting back on the table, her hands on either side of her, nails drumming as she mulls over my offer. "What we talking" she's quick to ask. Either she's desperate for information or for dick. Not that I'm complaining.

Leaning closer, resting my elbows on my knees I graze over my light stubble, eyes dark with desire, or hatred. Really can't tell the two apart at the moment and you can't really go wrong with the occasional hate fuck. "One time hookup, simply to get you out of my system. I'm sure you're hardly worth that much but I'll be nice and make it good for both of us."

"How thoughtful" she dead pans rolling her eyes again, playing with the ring on her thumb. How am I just now noticing its existence? Spinning it a couple times she drags her eyes to the floor, something in the crappy carpeting holding all her attention.

Sitting back in the chair, eating up her distress with a fucking spoon I play with my piercing as she stands there stressing over what I think is a pretty easy decision. "Well," I ask, bored with her hesitation.

"When" she asks simply, blinking her gaze back to mine, slow and hooded.

Curling my lips into the evillest smile I've let extend across my face I give it some thought before simply answering "when I feel like it. So not now. Your disappointment is a severe turn off little Darkside" I quip standing.

Angling her head up to meet my gaze, a foot and a half taller than her at least, she crosses her arms over her chest. "You can't call me that" she says matter of factly acting like she's got any command over me.

"And why the Hell not" I ask, again bored not even looking at her anymore.

"Because then people will know that we know each other, and I can't have that. So you can't call me that ridiculous nickname anymore." She smirks, like she's finally gained the upper hand. Hardly.

"Then what should I fucking call you slut" I don't bother shying away from my distaste for her. We both know it's a miracle there's still two of us here and not me and a mangled corpse.

"Everyone knows me as Stazia around here. So, use that as a reference."

Recapturing my attention, I look down on her, my fingers digging into her hips pulling her just a tad too close. "Okay Stazie, I'll take that into consideration." It's too damn easy.

Swallowing her growing lust or rising bile she places her hands on my covered chest and pushes me away with all her force creating distance I'm indifferent to. "No, it's Stazia asshole. Get it right!" Her angry bite gets my dick harder, but I frown despite myself, remembering I too have an identity to uphold. "I'm assuming there's something you'd prefer I call you, I mean other than asshole of course." She rolls her eyes and I all but strangle her right there. "Not that I care, but for the sake of, you know." She trails off but I get the gist.

"Yeah. It's Jeremey, Staz. And don't fucking forget it."

Unable to stop the urge to fucking kill her in front of everyone I tear myself away, hopping back over the desk, walking out into the warm weather. Balling my hands into fists I try to tamp down the rising emotions she stirs up, my dick painfully hard.

Realising I have no other option I stride up to the first girl I see, talking with friends hanging out around the buildings. Her blonde waves cascading down her back, red lipstick colouring her lips the same colour of blood, she'll have to do. Taking in the deepest breath I force away all images of Stazia before striding up to the blonde putting on my most charming smile.

"Hey gorgeous" I lay my line on thick, her body melting as my eyes drink her in.

"Hey handsome. What's your name?" Placing an arm over her shoulders I lead her away from the awestruck friends to around the corner before pressing her up against the brick walls.

"No names, just give me this pretty pussy and stay quiet."

She bites her lip all wrong, trying way too hard as I pick her up, legs wrapping around me. As quick as I can I pull out a condom from my back pocket, rolling it on my hard member. Pushing my jeans down, and her panties to the side under her pink pleated skirt I plunge myself deep in her dripping cunt, trying to lose myself in the way her wet heat tightens around me. "Such a filthy little slut" I whisper in her ear as I pump harder, faster, hitting her in that one place that makes girls go numb with ecstasy. It's not her but it'll suffice. For now.

I come quick, still buried deep inside her. Gripping my neck, holding on for dear life she comes not soon after, my hand pressed tightly covering her lips, the bloodred lipstick painting my palm. Slowly slipping out of her, I rip off the condom, tossing it the nearest trash bin before tucking myself away ready to move on.

Before I get too far, her short pink manicure curls around my neck from behind. "Can I get your number so we can do that again" she asks sensually. I roll my eyes looking away.

"No" I say dismissively.

"Why not?" She whines, the high pitch grating my nerves.

I clench my hands into fists, grinding my teeth. "Because now get the fuck out of here before you regret it" I growl below my breath.

Sparing a glance in her direction I notice the sudden fear marring her face before she scurries away. Her run a bit lopsided as I just eradicated her ability to walk properly. Turning back to the bricks I rest a hand on the wall, a vision of Stazia reappearing in my mind's eye. So much for forgetting her.

Chapter 11: 𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓴𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮

Releasing the breath, I was holding I slink back in the seat, briefly reliving the moment he and I had in my mind. Chest pounding harder with each beat of my heart as he drew closer. Our obvious hate for each other no match for the arousal my body felt, craving his presence. I could see it in his storm cloud eyes, mirroring my lust. He wants me just as much I want him but because of my fuck up, that will never happen.

Mentally kicking myself for being so damn sappy and pathetic, just like he said, the bite in his tone harsh yet truthful, I regain focus. The article on my burner phone an annoying mystery staring me in the face. Swivelling the chair back and forth, arms crossed over my chest in thought I pick up the phone, scrolling to the top of the article, trying to look at it with a fresh set of eyes. Stalker Boy or Jeremy as he wishes to be called now, said most of the shit the tabloids write is just that, shit, so scanning back over it, I pick out what seems like accurate enough information to be deemed truthful and sound journalism. Headless body found, no suspects and college student are all that seem to fit. Rolling my eyes at such a lack of information I begin to scour other news sites, hoping to see some similarities in the text. Only they're too similar, the same set of key words coming up.

"Damn" I whisper to myself frustrated. Tossing my phone away I huff and puff, holding my head up facing the still-to-be-graded large stack of tests sitting, mocking me. "Ugh" I can't help groaning a little too loudly, sanctioning an unwanted shhh to come my way. Fucking old bat.

Sitting up straighter, blowing out another breath I switch my phone off and tear down the first set of tests off the stack, my red pen poised delicately between my teeth as I start circling and checking off what I think is correct; unlike my now-dead counterpart I am nowhere near versed in any of this science shit.

Though I'm too caught up berating myself about my latest mistake of a kill to notice the newest group of cliché clique girls entering the building, all gathered together around their friend hard at work, a couple sets of texts surrounding her as she viciously takes lengthy notes. To my benefit, their sitting right next to me, their hushed and high-pitched tones grating against my ears, a pitiful conversation taking place distracting me.

"I don't know what his problem was. But you saw, one minute we're fucking behind the academics building and the next he's telling me if I don't leave, he'll make me regret it." A blonde with just-fucked hair runs her short pink manicure through the strands, trying to wrangle in the loose and twisted tendrils as she whispers.

Not interested in hearing about her most recent conquest with some nobody who is probably not as hot as she claims I begin to tune her out, returning to my inner self-loathing but something catches me before she goes fully deaf in my ears.

"Maybe he has a girlfriend and changed his mind."

The blonde shakes her head, lips pursed as she reapplies her lipstick. "Nah, just a killer cock and these grey stormy eyes, easy to get lost in." That motherfucker.

As if sensing the rising tension my phone beeps with a new notification from who else but the one and only asshole in my life as of right now.

Tonight, ten past midnight, club Twenty-Three

I let out a laugh, a few of the girls and other librarians and studious students casting an irritated glance my direction before I slink lower in my seat, trying harder to inconspicuously listen in on the whispers.

"Seriously though, was his cock really as big as you say?" one of the darker haired one's offers in disbelief. I stifle another laugh, pressing my knuckles to my lips silencing myself.

"Oh, trust me. It was." She holds up her fingers in measurement, the tube of lip stick stuck between her pointer and middle fingers. "I swear, this guy had me seeing fucking stars" she states before applying yet another layer of lacquer before kissing into her mirror.

"So, are you gonna meet up again?" a girl with a black bob asks. She looks twelve, definitely not a freshman in college.

"Maybe, but I'll need a good couple of days rest before I do. Seriously, it's so hard to walk straight right now."

Oh. My. Fucking. God. These girls. I scoff under my breath, though the death glare I've got coming my way says I may not have been as quiet as I thought.

"Can we help you with something?" The blonde snidely slides my way.

Hopping up off the seat I hurry over to the side of desk closest to the girls, arms crossed. "I couldn't help hearing you talk about some boy?"

She quirks a perfectly plucked brow, sitting back, her friends hanging around wary of my presence.

"Girls, leave us."

"See you later Sidney" the brunette says walking out the doors, her cohorts following close behind. I purse my lips at the sound of her name, a pathetic name to match a pathetic girl.

"You know him?"

I shrug a shoulder, "from whom you're describing I think so. Tall, dark hair, lip piercing and sleeves of tattoos?"

Her eyes widen just a tad, layers of mascara making them look that much bigger. "He your ex or something?"

I let out my boiling laughter. "Hardly. He wishes he fucked this" I motion to the rest of me, swallowing down the realisation of how true I actually feel that statement is. "We've crossed paths here and there, and he's always leaving a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes. But if you're down with just casual hookups and shit I'll gladly pass his info on to you."

She stands there for a moment, hands on one strap of her bag as she thinks it over. "Tell you what, I'm going to meet up with him tonight at eleven, over at that bar on State St. you should tag along."

Her tongue rolls around in her mouth as she keeps thinking, I'm starting to get the impression all these thoughts are giving her a migraine or something.

"Sure. Why not. I have nothing better to do" she says, lacing a bit of that overjoyed sarcasm in her tone that scratches my skin uncomfortably. The sooner I'm rid of her the better.

"Great" I flash a smile I don't mean in the least. "I'll be there early so just come find me." She smiles back the same level of insincerity.

"Yeah" she says before striding out the door, not letting me miss her dramatic eye roll. Fucking cunt. Pulling out my burner I take a second glance at Stalker Boy's message.

***

Despite the heat from the warmer autumn's temperature during the day the nights are still chilly as fuck. Curling into myself, my darker hoodie gathered around me, cut at the mid-drift, suddenly the worst item of clothing I could have chosen.

Hopping up and down a few steps, attempting to get the blood flowing to my shivering ligaments I search up and down the street with my gaze for the lady in pink. Checking the time on my phone I see it's only a half our past eleven and she's still not here. Fucking cunt probably set me up. No matter it'll make killing her all the more pleasant.

My phone buzzes with a new notification, another text from that asshole floating right below the previously unopened one. I might not make it as good for you tonight after all. I roll my eyes, hearing the clacking of heels on sidewalk pavement creating more pressing matters.

"Get lost?" I quip with a hint of mock concern and a sardonic smile.

Quirking a brow, unamused, a finger wiping at the corner of her lips she says, "couldn't decide what to wear" tossing out with no interest.

Turning back towards the club I start to walk in when I pause. "Shit, we can't go in this way." I start making my way to the back of the building. Having cased the joint hours prior to ensure no one would catch me and what I'm about to do. "Here, let's go in through the back."

"Why?" she asks, suspicious.

"So, they don't card us?" I admit quite quickly, making her feel like the biggest idiot that's ever lived.

"Oh." Her cheeks go pink from embarrassment, but she rubs at them muttering how cold it is under breath hoping I hadn't noticed.

Slinking around back I pull out my burner checking the time, 11:47 pm, a little early but it'll do. Checking over my shoulder to ensure the bitch is still there I lead her deep into the back of the lot, not a car or drunken individual in sight. Perfect.

"I need a drink" she murmurs just as she walks around me trying to go in first, too easy. Smiling, her pink cardigan wearing back to me I slowly creep up behind her as it dawns on her tiny little mind that there is no back entrance to this place.

She turns to ask something, but I knock her in the face with my red marbled handle before she has a chance. Gravity on my side, she falls to the pavement, a sickening crack sounding out as her head connects with the lot, blood slowly spilling out around her.

Crouching down I press two fingers to her pulse, feeling the heartbeat still pounding beneath the skin. Even better, bitch is still alive. Laying a knee down, the rips in my jeans tearing further as I work. Placing her hands behind her back so she can't interrupt, I straddle her unconscious form as I slide out my blade, dragging the tip down her cheek. Her mind slowly trying to come to from the fall and blow to the head.

Watching as she begins to awaken, still somewhat groggy and not understanding of what's going on her lips loosen, enough for me to open her mouth and tug on her tongue. Just as I was hoping her eyes, still layered in lines of mascara and eyeline flutter open, squinting but seeing, as I glare down at her with a hard stare.

"You shouldn't fuck people's boyfriends" I spit with envy, the lie coming off too easily. She shakes her head, slow but fighting and begging, nonetheless. "Shut up, it'll only hurt for a little while. Not that you had anything important to say in the first place" I snidely remark before pulling her tongue more taught. Her eyes widen as big as they'll enlarge switching her gaze rapidly from me to her tongue. My blade resting comfortably in my grip as I drag the sharpened tip across, over and over, her cries and please drowning in the blood pooling from the severed muscle.

Coughing and sputtering as blood rolls down her throat, all over her lips coating everything a pretty red colour I continue to slice, her cries having ceased, a stream of tears slipping down her bloodied cheeks as she prays for the end of this anguish.

Dragging along the muscle a couple more times it severs from the rest of her, squishable and laying in my open hand. Smiling down at it I lift myself up and off of her nearly dead body, spasming, struggling, still fighting.

Pulling my burner phone from my pocket I take a pic of the tongue, my marbled handle in the image. Then with bloodied hands I type out a text before hitting send, tossing the tongue on her gasping chest and discarding the bloodied cut up hoodie in the back lot of a further down the way corner store.

Chapter 12: 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘉𝘰𝘺

My phone buzzes beside me but I can't bring myself to look at it. Thoughts full of her, mind wandering to those brief and blissful moments of sensuality. She just has this way of gripping you so tight you can hardly breathe, but you don't want to; it's as if she removes your ability to live yet you'd happily die at her feet.

Shaking my head free of such dangerous considerations, I take a swig of my beer, nearly spitting it across the room as the warm liquid touches my lips, disgusting and stale.

"Fuck" I shout out quickly rising to dispose of the sour filth.

"Told you to drink it before it got warm, dude. That's on you." My roommate Adam comments, trying unsuccessfully to hide the bubbling laughter sitting at the corner of his sly grin. Bastard.

"Fuck off Adam" I retort over my shoulder, staring at the kitchen wall, not fully present in the moment. This time he does laugh as I pour the remnants down the drain, my phone sitting idly by with an unanswered message. It's probably her, asking where the Hell I am since I decided not to show up last minute. Fucking that cheap blonde chick really fucked with me. I roll my eyes as the memory spears into my chest, her high and heavy breathing as I pounded into her, trying so damn hard to rid this feeling of complete emptiness.

Crouching down to the fridge I pick up another beer, cold this time, popping off the tab and taking a large swig. The average taste of Hopps dancing on my tongue as I make my way back to the lounge chair I was sulking in.

"Whoever she is, she’s not worth it." He mutters, taking a big gulp from his bottle, directing his gaze back to his phone, mindlessly scrolling.

“Whatever” I murmur to myself, not putting in enough effort to actually be heard. Yet he continues, eyes glued to his phone.

“I’m serious man. No pussy is worth pouting over and wasting a perfectly good beer.”

“Yup” I say, hoping he’ll cease fishing.

Tossing his phone to the side, he leans in closer, resting his elbows on his knees, the beer now sitting on the coffee table. “All right, this is the one time I’ll get sappy and feelings and shit. Who is she?”

I wave him off, not interested in a therapy session diving deep into my feelings, the ones I shouldn't have after the shit she pulled. And yet, there's still something that can't help but get wrapped up in the web of her lies and deceit. “No one. Like you said, no pussy worth wasting a beer over.”

Relief washing over his buzzed face he picks up his drink leaning closer to clink bottles, finally ridding us of this uncomfortable conversation. “Amen to that my brother.”

I hold back my groan, taking another swig as my mind wanders. As if listening in on my thoughts, my burner buzzes again with the unanswered message. Unable to ignore the irritating sound any longer I switch on the cheap thing to switch it off just as quickly when a notification for an image attached catches my eye.

Curious enough, I open the message and the image, my eyes widening at least two times their usual size. "Holy shit" I mutter under my breath, frozen staring at the severed tongue resting in the palm of Stazie's hand. What did this little bitch do this time?

If whores are your type, consider our deal off! The message reads with the middle finger emoji stationed next to it.

"What" my roommate questions, hardly taking notice, his phone still capturing his attention.

"Nothing" I say nonchalantly, whipping out of the chair, grabbing my black leather jacket on the way out.

“Where you going” he tosses out as I’m nearly out the door.

“I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t wait up” I say shutting it door barrelling down the steps, I need to see this for myself.

***

Even with the extra layer of rawhide, the cold manages to sink into my bones, creating an agonizing hot-cold burning sensation. Huddling closer into myself I continue, the temperature just about the last thing to keep me from this. Hell, itself could reign down on the University in a fiery blaze and I still would make the trek to catch a glimpse of the murder scene my little Darkside left for me.

I pause. Why do I care so damn much!? She’s not mine and she never was. “Get it together” I mutter to myself, knowing even my own voice isn’t strong enough to fend off the dangerous pull I have towards her.

Striding down the street at a hurried but leisurely pace, my teeth chattering, fangs piercing the inside of my lip enough to spill blood, I lick my lips, the cool touch of my piercing making me shiver harder. Finally stepping up on the sidewalk to club Twenty-Three I slow my approach, eyes caught and blinded by the red and blue lights flashing, a crowd of people standing behind the barricade, a local news crew trying to catch a glimpse.

What the fuck? Gradually stepping closer, blending into the cacophony of people, trying not to be noticed, I sneak by a couple of students I vaguely recall in my econ and gen ed courses, making my way closer to the chaos, slowly warming up from the tightly packed bodies.

Sparing a glance around, trying to drink it all in and decipher the disaster I catch a glimpse of dark auburn waves and a navy raincoat hurrying closer. For fucks sake.

Right on cue, my roommate sidles up to me tugging out his phone, along with others trying to capture the moment on camera.

"Yo, you must have seen the article minutes before I did. Fucking intense huh.” He shakes his head, stretching over the barricade to get a closer look down the dark alley way leading up to the crime scene.

Confused but not about to show my hand I give a small nod in agreement. "Yeah, pretty intense" I parrot back, none the wiser.

As if to somewhat clear up the mystery of what lies ahead, a stretcher with a large white sheet laid over something about the size of a body gets rolled up to the back of a coroner's van, spurts and spurts of blood coloring the top portion. Swallowing, I think back to the very first image Stazie first showed me; the headless girl leaning up against the wall. Craning my neck out further I try to see down the dark corridor but nothing's truly visible from my current spot.

“Do you have any information on who this is and how they were killed” an olive-skinned woman with dark black bobbed hair and a dark blue pinstripe suit asks, shoving her microphone in the face of one of the officers; her camera man making quick work, slinking around to catch a glimpse under the sheet. Though the minute his eyes look upon the gruesome sight hidden underneath he regrets it, spewing any dinner he had out on the pavement. Amateur.

“Hey, back up” one of the patrol officers pushes them both back, the camera man jogging back to the van to lose more of whatever he just had to eat. “Everyone move back so we can do our jobs” he shouts into the crowd, not looking a day over twelve, though we all remain rooted to our original spots. Rolling his eyes he returns down the corridor to the crime scene, blocked off with yellow police tape.

Just as they pack up the gurney, something slips off the body to the ground. Carefully I shift positions to get a better look, just as a brunette standing off to the side quickly crouches down to pick up the mysterious object.

“Oh my god” she begins screaming, the pink thing in her hand, shaking. “Oh my god, she’s dead isn’t she? Sidney’s dead!” It’s more of a statement than anything, being as the mysterious object allowed her to possibly correctly identify the deceased.

Hysterical over something I still can’t see enough, a detective, tan trench coat and blue booties on his shoes, hobbles over, as if stepping right off the set of some cop show.

“Miss, we don’t anything right now” he says calmly but she’s screaming, eyes streaming with tears as she keeps holding the pink object.

“Don’t lie! It’s her, I know it is!” You can hardly tell what she’s saying through all the blubbering, but the detective, apparently fluent in crying and whining continues his questioning as if she was speaking in plain English.

“How do you know for sure, miss?”

Holding out the object, she pops it open, a sharp glare catching the light of the squad cars. “This was her favorite compact. It was always hidden away in her bra.” She lets out a few more tears as he directs one of the forensic investigators to bag the item.

“Officer Curt is going to bring you down to the station to answer a few questions.” She nods, like a child, sad and pathetic. “What is your name, miss?”

Wiping away a stray tear she mutters, “Jackie Wenson.”

“All right Jackie, just hang tight and let Officer Curt come get you. We’re gonna find out who did this, don’t worry.”

Holding back my scoffed laughter I carefully fade into the background, saying a quick “see ya” to Adam before heading back into the dismal night.

***

Rushing up the steps I tug out my burner phone sending a quick text, the urge to toy with her itching uncomfortably beneath my frosty inked skin.

So, you didn't kill her? I message, a smile creeping up my lips as I enter the room and slouch back on the seat.

No, I did. She types back quickly.

Well, what'd you do with her head then? I reply. Watching as the bubbles appear and disappear a few times before her message finally comes through.

Why are you asking? It reads, but I know I got her thinking.

Just curious I toss back, my vibe of nonchalance seeping into the digitized words.

The bubbles start pulsing again, my lips tug into a bigger smile, the piercing shifting with the sly grin as I prepare to just let the question linger, her curiosity piqued in the most delicious way.

What do you know?

Absentmindedly my fingers playing with my piercing as I ponder over my next text, the bait too tempting not to throw, luring her in further. Control once again mine, the way it’s always meant to be.

Apparently more than you ;)

I can just imagine her big brown eyes rolling as she reads my latest message.

Fucking tell me dickhead! I laugh shaking my head, disappointed. "She really thinks I’ll cave that easily. Tsk tsk. When will she learn."

No.

Tell. Me. I let out another bellow of laughter, the space filling with the sound of teasing amusement. “This girl” I manage through the hilarity.

It's so cute how easily I can irritate you even when we're not in the same room little Darkside ;)

The bubbles work quickly before disappearing, her texted shouting filling her side of the screen no doubt. Patiently I wait, letting her come to me.

Please, just tell me what you know. I give it a quick think, playing my cards just right, enough to make her squirm.

Maybe, let's have a chat.

Fuck, no. She replies almost immediately.

It wasn't a question, Stazie. Diner on 46th. Ten minutes. Don't be late.

With that final demand I make my way back out on to the cold streets, my burner phone tucked away in my leather jacket's pocket, the coroner van driving along slowly away from the distant flashing lights of the most recent crime scene. But even as I walk, something in the pit of my stomach tells me this is only the beginning...