The next piece in the Nameless saga. A new victim but the same old killer.
reviews are welcomed xx
The ground beneath my feet stands firm, the sky's darkness reigns supreme against the cowardly sunlight. Oh, how I've missed this. The terror of the dawn when the mess I leave behind is found. The screams, the tears and the pain. But they all deserve it, not the ones that are left behind, I mean those that fall victim to my hand.
Back here again, I say again in a casual way like it's an everyday occurrence for the likes of me to roam freely among the trees, to lie low and close as I watch and wait for the next unfortunate soul to come into sight. But this time, it's no different he deserves everything that coming to him. The pain and suffering he's caused to everyone who's been close to him. Why should he go unpunished? But as you all know my punishments aren't like the others, mine have an everlasting effect, and mine doesn't end in a few years. Mine are what a life sentence really means.
The shadows fall as the trees cast down their cover. The night brings me great joy, the thrill of the chase. Nothing like the days spent wandering aimlessly, at night, I have a greater purpose. The Nameless face, the stalker of the night. The killer with no motive. No motive, yes laughed too. They think they know it all, they have nothing on me.
I slink along the path sticking close to the tiles that line the outer walls, the smooth surface aiding in my silence. Remain calm and collective, I've done this so many times now it all comes flooding back. It's so nice to be needed, I've missed the hunger, the thirst to watch the blood drip out, drop by drop as the blood vessels begin to shrivel and the heart begins to cease the beating. The life of them draining out until they ae just what I want them to be. A corpse. A hollow shell of nothing. The person they once were no longer able to inflict the misery upon those that they may encounter.
The air has had bitterness about it, the spring air not quite yet fully established. As the hospital falls into the depth of the night, the people begin to leave. I watch as many skip happily home and as others pull their coats tightly around them and head for their cars. No sight of him yet, though. I know he's here I saw him earlier. But in this game patience in the key. Night it's as plain and simple as usual it's a bit like the first murder I ever committed. I find murder a strong word. I'm eliminating these unwanted souls from the gene pool and making the world a better place, I prefer to think of it as a reinforcement of natural selection.
I see him, my feet stop moving. I stand completely still, my back pressed against the wall just a little away from the nearest light. Its orange glow just about missing my figure. He looks so confident, even after all the pain and anguish, he's caused he has the cheek to come back. To stay around to rub salt in the healing wounds of those from his past. What kind of man does that? I'll tell you the kind, the ones with no soul, the affectionless psychopaths. Those that feel no remorse that was put on this earth to cause pain, to kill those around them with their hateful being. But now it's my turn, my time to hold the power. My way or no way. I win, I always win. That's the beauty of it. They haven't caught me yet. I say yet because there will come a day when I'm dead or before that when they finally figure out just who I am. But until them, I will be empowered by the energy that I draw from those who lie before my feet.
He's moving now, he's heading for the hospital exit. I need to move quickly no time to lose and no time to make a balls up. I tap my pocket, it's still there. My legs bend at the knees, I creep along the side of the building missing out the main entrance and meet him face on. I stop I retreat a little. I can't be seen not yet anyway. He turns his back to me I watch as he scans the area for someone or something. I waste no time I haven't got very much as it is. Now it's my chance. 3.2.1. ponce…
I launch forward my hand cupped around his mouth, he begins to struggle. My foot presses into the back of his knee and I keep my grip on his face firm as he falls to the floor. I press my knee into his back I can't risk him getting free. This is the part I love, I live and breathe for this. The taste of fear. The smell of dread and the sound of his heart beating so fast as his flight or fight response kicks in. his anxiety is high now, he begins to struggle but I'm too good to let him get away. I bind his feet and arms behind him, he's in too much shock to even dear make a sound now. I roll him over, he sees my face for the first time. His expression changes, does he recognise me? Who cares anyway? I laugh, he goes to speak but I tape his mouth. No thank you, we will have none of that today. I take his feet in my hands and drag him to the van I've parked just round the corner. I load his body into the back and I climb into the front seat. The seatbelt clicks into place and I switch the radio on. Dangerous love starts playing. This song I feel is a representation of me to some degree and of all those who've fallen foul to my play.
The roads are quite but the night is wearing on so that's to be expected. I pass endless houses all with blackened windows. I turn the next corner, I'm back here again. The abandoned warehouse where it all began all those months ago. I has a strong feeling of nostalgia begin back again. It smells the same. Death. It's funny how much pleasure that word brings me. I unload him and move through to the main space of the building the part were I'm the boss. I take a little jar from the other pocket of my coat. Over one hundred little cocktail sticks. Each of their wooden ends ripe to splinter and they make contact with the flesh and I'll push them a little harder.
He was lay before me, a smile flashed upon my face. I watched as he gulped down what would be one of his few last breaths. I open the pot and bend down beside him taking out a few of the sticks, I hold his arm down I watch in fascination a I stab as his flesh, staring with contentment as its tip pierced his flesh burying itself deep beneath the surface. I move up his arm repeating the same process but with a little more force this time. The cocktail stick begins to snap so I shove it harder. I watch as the blood begins to seep from the underside of his arm. The wood poking out the other side. The adrenalin rush is my favourite feeling. The mix of knowing it wrong but it really so right. I repeat the process again and again. His loose flesh becoming studded with 100's of little wooden sticks. All adding to the pain and suffering. Each one drawing a little more blood. I watch as his face wince as I force the last one through his tongue.
I needed pick up my pace, I've been having too much fun messing with him. A taste of his own medicine. The dawn is creeping up on me. I take the knife from my pocket, my favourite toy. The stand above him, my frame casting down its shadow onto him. His eyes open wider. Perfect. I crouch down. He can feel my breath on his face. 3.2.1. The blade goes straight into his eye. The blood squirting back out. It just gave way to the pressure. This is the best so far. His body goes stiff with shock. Now for the next part. The part where I watch him die. He deserves this to end in an undignified way. I move down his body. I left his shirt slight to expose his now paling flesh. The tip of the knife glistens with his blood. I dig it into his stomach, forcing it's across in a straight line. Then repeat the same motion in the other direction creating a cross. I open the new wound with the knife shoving git down further, it ruptures everything in its path. The colour drains from hm. I stand up to admire my work. My job here is done. His lifeless body lies at my feet. He's gone. This is my version of a life sentence. No one should commit his crimes and be able to see another day.
I load his body back into the van and drive back to the hospital. I park in the same place as I did previously, I need to be careful any evidence of blood would lead them to me. I manage to get his body to a place he will be discovered. I take one last look, his internal organs spilling gout on the ground around him. The little wooden sticks still all embedded in his skin. Tonight has bene one of great success. I turn and walk back to the van, time to do some cleaning. I head back to the warehouse and wash the floor with HCl, making the drying blood stains disappear. Then for the van the blood in the back is cleaned up and the cloth burnt. I walk back towards the hospital, the night is slowly turning to day but to anyone around I'm just another lonely soul. Out of luck and losing hope. I slink back into the darkness, the trees my protective blanket that holds me and hides me from any prying eyes. My work here is done for now, but my quest to kill is never over.
I walk towards the hospital, I've not slept but then who needs to sleep after such a satisfying night. I grow nearer and nearer. I hear the hushed cries. I take it someone's found his body. I walk a little faster but slow down again as I hear sirens getting closer. I watch as the hospital grounds fill with police cars and a large crowd begins to grow around the space. I walk closer peering through the gaps. I watch as Rita fights her way to the front. Hitting the people out of the way. A police officer looks up. "Do you know him?" he asks her.
"Yeah, it's Mark. Mark Richie." She stutters. I move backwards again and watch as a relief spreads across her face. That's another one off my list.