*DISCLAIMER: In no way was this story written to glorify the act of killing. It is simply another take on a romance with influences driven from shows like American Horror Story and Dexter, with that in mind, read this as a romance/horror story, thank you.
Chapter One: The Trespasser
I lay and stare into my noiseless dark room thinking about everything that's not important and avoiding sleep. I turn my pillow every few minutes to keep it cool. It's odd, I feel unusually comfortable in my room alone in the dark, I'm usually afraid and have to make myself go to sleep, but not tonight. I close my eyes and start to drift slowly in slowly out of sleep. There's a small click coming from my window, I ignore it. But it continues, I tuck my head in the covers, as if the blankets would protect me, and try to push the clicking out of my mind, but it continues. I look up to see a yellow glowing face with wide eyes as the moon casts a small amount of light on the stranger. I start to scream only to have my voice crack and falter. I gasp and flail my arms out of the covers. How was this man doing this? He was at least ten feet away from me. He creeps slower and slower I desperately reach for the light above my head. Closer now. I move my fingers around the switch plate searching for the little switch. Even closer now. I've got it! I flick on the light, the thin man with the cut face stops, and is taken aback by the light. He looks down and closes his eyes for a moment. I should be running right now but I continue to glare. His eyes were a crystal blue, almost unnatural and intimidating. He had joker scars cut into his cheeks, his clothing was bloodstained, I must've not been his first victim tonight. His white, torn shirt was snagging and pulling across his chest so tight that you could see the scars he bared beneath, there were many. I gasped.
"What? Ya never seen anybody like me before, sweetie?", he remarked.
His cheek scars made some of the words sound strange. I just glare.
"Well it seems like you won't be seeing much of anyone else ever again after I'm done with you."
He flicks open a knife and let's out a chuckle. I back away. This man wouldn't just spare me if I asked. I had to negotiate, give him a reason to leave me alone.
"I-I'll call the cops"
No that was terrible what was I thinking?
"Funny, they always say that." He says.
I need to calm down, slow my breathing, relax.
"Please", I choke out.
"Why should I spare you?" He says.
I'm getting somewhere now, I thought.
"Because I've got something worth living for."
He stops, he's at the edge of my bed now, grasping the sheets with his scarred hands. I back up more,
"My-My mom. She needs me, if I'm gone-"
he looks at me, upset that he hasn't killed me yet.
"She'll die. She has multiple sclerosis, she can't even get out of bed with out my help, much less live. Please, please."
I'm on the verge of tears by now.
" I don't know what you are, but for some reason, I'm not killing you, consider yourself lucky, but to keep up my reputation-"
he grabs my shoulders and pushes me down he takes his hand and covers my mouth, it smells of rust, maybe blood, I cringe. The other hand has a knife he starts to cut into my neck, I try to allow myself not to scream, if I did he'd probably kill me there.
"if anyone asks, I was intending to kill you, but I didn't cut deep enough, and you passed out from the loss of blood and me, thinking you were dead, left and you have no recollection of what I looked like what so ever, got it?"
I nod, tears running down my face. My neck stings, but it's better than being dead.
"It was the 'please' if you were wondering why I didn't kill you" with that, he left.
I lay there counting the seconds that passed. 30, 60, 120, till it's been at least five minutes. I get up and rush to my window, the cold outside air stings my face as I use my weak fingers to close the window. I cross to my bathroom, I glance in the mirror to see my neck is covered in the blood and the collar of my shirt is soaked in it. I use a wash cloth to clean my neck I take off my shirt and stare at myself in the mirror. My whole body is pale and my eyes sunken in. I cross over to my bed to look for more blood, I see the outline of where his hand was. I want to faint. I touch the imprint. Why would he have spared me all because of a simple please? I grab a lighter and a cigarette, the flame burns at the end for a moment then dies to an amber and I blow a puff. I need to quit, but not tonight, definitely not tonight. I click off my light and lay back down, hoping to close my eyes and pretend it was all a dream.
Chapter Two: Unlikely
That night, a scarred face haunts my dreams and I wake in the morning in a cold sweat. It's late. I leap out of bed and rush to the bathroom to brush my teeth, I see a long red scab across my neck, I hadn't noticed it the night before, but at the end of the scratch under my ear, a small S is carved. I cringe. I go and wake up my mom and help her out of bed, I wasn't lying when I'd said that, I really do have to help her get out if bed, it's just that bad I guess. At the breakfast table I ask her if there's been any new news lately.
"There were two more murders last night."
There have been three murders this week and a total of ten last week. I guess I knew the source of them now...
"Did they find out who yet?"
My hand shakes as I try to put my spoon in my mouth.
"You okay, hon?"
"Yeah, I'm just nervous"
"Oh you'll do just fine, your boss loves you already, so you know, extra brownie points"
"Yea that's why I'm nervous" I ask her,"Do we have a security system?"
My mom says, "No we don't... I guess we should consider it because of all these killings, I just wasn't so scared because there weren't any going on over in our side if town."
"Well, we need one mom, especially since you can't defend yourself very well. Do you want me to run and get one after work today?" I ask.
"If you want to, sweetie, just be careful with your spending, we're running a little low" A frightened child sobbed in the back of my mind when my mom called me "sweetie".
That whole day, I felt like a zombie, going through work being there physically but not mentally. All I could think of was a smile, his hand twisting the knife around, his eyes-
"And we have just learned the name of the serial killer who has committed all of these murders. He prefers to be known as 'Slit-throat Sam' as stated in a ransom note sent to Mr. Smith before his murder last night" a news woman says on the radio.
I was driving. My hand flitted to my neck as I traced the S under my ear.
"Your address, sweetie?"
I awoke from my trance,
"what?" I ask
"What's the address that the security system will be installed at?" The saleswoman asks. "4158 Redwood Hills"
As I drive back home, my nervous finger bangs against the steering wheel and I bite the inside of my mouth. "Sweetie" was ringing in my ears. I pull up to my house. I run inside, hoping not to find my mother dead on the living room floor.
"So you got the security system?" She asks from the kitchen.
"How'd you know that?" I ask
"Some people came over to install it, I thought you knew... Are you sure you're alright?"
"Yes."
Next thing I knew I was pacing the floor in my room, it was 10:00 pm already. I picked up my lighter and lit the cigarette. I sucked in and felt the calm come over me. I finally felt at peace. I set up a security system. Mom was in bed. I had my cigarette. Everything was fine. "Smoking's a bad habit for such a pretty girl ya know?"
I turned around to see him directly behind me. He grabbed the cigarette out of my mouth.
"But then again, it's not too bad a habit for a messed up guy like me eh?"
He put the lit cigarette in his mouth.
"Yeah, I was in the neighborhood and just thought I'd stop by. What kind of brand is this? It's fantastic."
I stared at his pale face. I saw him fully now, he wore a denim jacket with holes eaten into it, and bloodstained converse too old to live, yet somehow they managed to stay together. His hair was slicked back which made his scars stand out more. Then my vision was blurred by grey smoke and burned tobacco scent filled my nostrils. I fanned the smoke away from my face. The silence had lasted too long.
"Why are you here?", I asked Sam.
"It speaks!" He exclaims.
He blows smoke out of his nose and grins hungrily at me.
"You said you'd let me live" I said.
"Who said I was here to kill you, lighten up" he chuckles.
"I told you I was in the neighborhood and I wanted to see you."
I'm furious with rage. What is this weirdos problem?! Why won't he just leave me alone?
"I'm not just going to leave you alone-"
could he read minds?
"I've never spared anybody before, I want to be sure I can trust you not to rat me out, unless you already have..."
I look down to see his hand groping the knife in his pocket.
"I haven't told and won't tell" I say quickly.
I want him to leave so badly, I'm so uncomfortable I wish I could just somehow abandon my skin.
"I never did get your name." He asks
"Jane", I reply.
It's so quiet and I freeze where I am as he looks at my face. Then he speaks in a casual tone,
"I can't stop thinking about you ya know?"
He keeps looking at me with that grin. His eyes piercing at my soul. I'm quiet. Why is he telling me this?
"Look,sweetie, I may be a killer, but I don't just kill every person I see in this world, I can still have civilized conversations ya know?"
"I wouldn't call somebody who goes out killing every night civilized", I spit out, but regret it.
He grabs my shoulders and blows smoke in my face and says, more calmly than expected, "I'd watch what I say if I were you, it's that kinda mouth that gets people killed."
I back away slowly, scared out of my mind.
"Now, where was I...?" He trails off waiting for me to reply, but I change the subject.
"How'd you get in?" I say.
"How would I be able to do all this if I didn't know how to disarm security systems?"
He looks at my neck, then lifts my hair to look at the S on my neck, he smiles.
"Yeah, sorry about that nasty cut, but hey, I've gotta keep my reputation."
"It's fine. I'm really tired so if you don't mind I'm gonna-"
"Not yet" he interrupts
"Look, I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise. I just wanted to figure out why I didn't kill you that night…"
His blue eyes look strait into mine. Why am I still looking? Why haven't I grabbed the knife under my pillow and stabbed him? Something was wrong, I shouldn't even be having this conversation right now but then again I shouldn't even be alive right now. But his eyes were so much different than his physique. They read that of a scared abused child, sad and alone. I couldn't look away, I couldn't just abandon that child. I know why he spared me, and something was telling me to mike closer to him, maybe that scared child?
"What are you..." His voice trailed off.
His hand had placed itself under my chin I couldn't breathe. This shouldn't be happening, but it was. He brushed my hair out of my eyes. I closed them waiting for what was to come next, but he dropped my face and walked across my room. Why did I do that? What was wrong with me? This man was a killer and he almost killed me last night. I need to get out of this situation, and fast. He took off his jacket. His white shirt was tight against his scarred up muscles as I remembered from last night, only this time I wasn't afraid of them. He hung the denim on my coat rack. When he turned around his eyes were wet, was he crying? He sat on my bed, and looked down.
"Sorry, it's just, I thought something like this could never happen to me again after the accident. I thought I'd be screwed forever and nobody'd ever even consider doing something like that with me."
I was still shocked at what had just happened myself that I couldn't even choke out the right words.
"What-what do you mean?" I manage to say.
"Before I got my face cut up like this, I had a life that was normal. I was fired from my job though and was pretty much desperate for any job, ya see. I worked at this liquor store: the night shift. All kinds of psychos and freaks would wander in with guns or knives to rob the place, and I was the one who had to stop em. One day four men came in with knives, I couldn't stop all four alone and they got too carried away... Well, now I look like this. I begged them 'please, please' screamed, nobody was brave enough to help, so nobody came to help. You said 'please' that night, and I- I got taken aback because I knew that nobody would come to help you… so I had to be the one to do it."
I couldn't help but to feel sorry for him.
"Now I can't sleep. I can barely eat. I've just got this anger and this lust to kill those that have a normal life because I know, looking like this, I can't have one anymore. But then… the way you looked at me… you changed that..."
His voice trailed off, I could tell this was awkward for him. Why do I feel sorry for him? He was a killer.I couldn't help but to keep looking at him and wanting to cry myself. He looked up at me with sad eyes. I had to admit, they were really something. Then the next thing I knew I was sitting next to him. I put my hand on his. It was rough and strong, but I didn't pull away. He placed his hand underneath my pillow and pulled out my knife.
"What's this for, you gonna stab me?" He chuckles.
I grab it from his hand.
"no." I choke out with the tears forming and stinging my eyes.
"I don't know why I feel this w-"he couldn't finish.
I was kissing him and he was kissing me back, despite what you'd think, the scars didn't get in the way, and he held me close and I wasn't unnerved, it felt right.
Chapter Three:
That night I laid back thinking that what had just happened was a dream. Why me? Why was I so special? I had so many questions, but the one thing I did know was I was in love with him. I had just met this insane man but he made me feel like no other man ever did. I was in love with a killer and I didn't feel wrong about it because Sam loved me back. That night we had talked for hours about ourselves, our pasts, our futures. In that moment he wasn't a deranged serial killer, he was a normal boy with issues similar to mine. His dad died from multiple sclerosis two years back. He'd never had many friends and if he did, they turned on him. But the whole night felt like a dream the next morning, like it never happened, which was sad. I went through my day normally, but a little happier because I'd known I would see him tonight because he promised to come back, maybe this time not through my window. That night though, he didn't come. For the past few days, he didn't come. I found myself aching for him, longing to see his crystal eyes, but he didn't show. Days turned into weeks and it had been three weeks already. By then I concluded that it never happened, that I had dreamt the whole thing. I'd heard nothing more of Slit-throat Sam on the news. I wondered if he'd been caught or if,God forbid, that he died.
That day at work I had been day dreaming about him, I hadn't thought about him as much as today, it's been a month today since that night I kissed him. My boss, , came over to ask if I was feeling okay. I reply,
"I'm fine, just not enough sleep last night is all. Thank you I'll be getting back to work now".
He says,
"Please call me Todd. If you like, I could take you out for coffee?"
Was he hitting on me? This was honestly the last thing I needed right now, but coffee would get me out of this office and take Sam off my mind...
"If you're okay with it, coffee would be nice right about now."
He escorted me out of the office and we drove to the Starbucks down a couple of blocks.
We sat and drank coffee which burned as it went down but I chugged it to avoid talking, but when it was all gone, I had no choice but to make conversation with this man. Todd broke the silence,
"So, Jane, what did you think of James' presentation last Friday?"
I replied, "Well, considering he was making it sound like it was going to be the best thing ever, I was a little disappointed."
Todd laughs a little too long Than he should've. But I had to admit, he wasn't bad looking, he kept fit and had nice hair, maybe I should give him a chance, he had money...
"So what do you do while you're not at the office?" He asks.
"Oh I take care of my mom"
We ended up talking at the coffee shop for a couple hours, but when it closed, we decided to go to the bar down the street to continue our conversation. Todd had four shots of whiskey, I stuck to soda, never much liked alcohol.
When we got outside I lit a cigarette. Todd told me,
"You know you're the prettiest girl I ever met"
I looked at him, I could smell the poisonous drink in his breath.
"thank you" I replied, a little uncomfortable.
He led me to his car but when we got in he didn't start it. I waited and waited for him to start the car but he didn't.
"Look, maybe I should drive tonight"
He ignored me. He looked strait ahead and next thing I knew he grabbed my face and started to kiss me. I was terrified, I pulled away and tried to open the car door but he locked it. "Please, Todd, stop you don't know what you're doing right now"
He continued to try to grab my face. I couldn't breathe I couldn't stop him panic rushed through me until my blood was filled with it and I let out a scream and he covered my mouth. I was crying by now the hot tears running down my cheeks. I closed my eyes and he whispered in my ear,
"Look now, if you don't scream, no harm will come to you."
He had a knife in his hands which he pushed in my side but not hard enough to pierce the skin. I nod my head and he releases me. He brings his face closer to mine and my fingers slowly close around the knife he dropped. He opens his mouth but before he touches my lips I drill the knife in his side. He gasps and starts to choke. I pull it out and run it into his gut. There's an evil sense of accomplishment that comes over me. I pierce the knife into his chest; he violated me;in and out; he could've raped me for all I knew; in and covers his shirt, then his pants, then his seats. I feel safe now, but frightened to death at the same tears are blurring my vision as I reach over the body to grab the keys to let myself out.
I run and puke and run and puke until I got home. Mom's already in bed, thank God. I run up to my room. To my surprise, Sam is sitting on my bed, just when I'd needed him most, twirling his thumbs. He grins at me, but then, seeing my expression, looks confused. I throw myself at him and sob into his shoulder. He holds me and tells me to calm me down so he could talk to me. I back out of his embrace and he spots the blood staining my shirt.
"You okay? Where are you bleeding?" He asks.
"It's not my blood", I reply.
Sam stands back to get a good look at me.
"It appears so...", Sam studies me for a moment. "You stabbed him in his side yes?"he asks. "Yes, but how did you-?" "You have blood on the left side of your torso and it's not splattered all over you, meaning you didn't shoot him, you stabbed him and since the blood is only on your shirt and not your pants, you were sitting down next to the victim you stabbed meaning you were in a car when it happened because who just kills sideways? You'd usually face your victim, wouldn't you?"
I feel lost, the whole world is spinning. I just killed a man and Sam wants to get all technical about how I did it?
"-and I wouldn't think the cops would be after you because I'm guessing with a girl like you, you probably did it as self defense am I right? So if you do get caught-"
"Who says I'm gonna get caught? I have you and you're going to make everything all better right? You've done this before and you haven't gone to prison so who's to say I'm going?"
I'm finding myself trying to negotiate with Sam again.
"Okay. So you're not turning yourself in? Even if it was for self defense?" Sam asks.
I remain silent, my hysterical sobbing continues until I can barely breathe through my nostrils. "Jane?!", he presses on.
"I stabbed that sicko five times! Five times! It was self defense at first, but then it was revenge and passion driving me the next four times! He violated me, Sam, and if I didn't do something about it, he could've raped me!"
I finished my speech, but Sam covered my mouth with his hands and simply whispered,
"Your mother's gonna wake up, Jane, and if she does, that will just make things ten times worse."
I nod and he removes his hand, he continues,
"Now, I can help you with your problem, sweetie, it's just that you left a big mess of evidence for me to have to clean up that I'm not used to."
"You're a serial killer, Sam, what do you mean this is a lot to clean up-"
"I mean I've never stabbed anyone that many times! There will be a lot more blood and an entire vehicle I'll need to dispose of. Just let me think."
Chapter Four: The Disposal
We ventured out back to the dreaded place where I had committed the crime to see it was left untouched. We wore all black and covered our faces in, because of the lack of time to use anything else, mud which gave us the look more of a swamp monster than that of a perpetrator. Todd had parked in an alley closed off by most civilians so luckily we got to his corpse before anyone else did. His head was flopped back against the seat and he was slumped down, resembling that of a car dummy used for test drives. And that's what I told myself. I told myself it was nothing but a test drive dummy as me and Sam lifted his body and placed it into the back trunk. Sam climbed into the front seat with me sitting alongside him and drove off. I watched him as his face, serious with determination, was locked on the road not looking away for a single second. His scars shone very vividly with the moonlight dancing on the car windshield every now and then. He was beautiful. A beautiful mess. A tough, determined, frustrated, beautiful mess. I wanted him to acknowledge me, so I asked,
"Where are we taking him?"
He relied, his voice smooth without any hint of panic,
"A spot on a hill. We're burying him, that's all you need to know."
He didn't talk again for the rest of the trip.
When we arrived, all that could be seen was the silhouette of a hill. The drive took about two hours and, by the time we arrived, I was a nervous wreck. As I stepped out of the car, my body shook furiously. So furiously, that when I tried to open the door to the backseat, it was nearly impossible to get any grip on the handle of the car. So,naturally, Sam handled taking the body out. He held the corpse as easily and comfortably as a child would hold their favorite doll. So when he caught site of me for the first time since we'd gotten in the car, he said,
"You'll get used to the nerves, they go away by the next murder".
"The next murder?! I'm not gonna make this my day to day job, Sam, I don't plan on stabbing anyone else to death anytime soon." I tell him.
By this time, we've walked up half the small grassy slope. Sam carries a bag he'd brought with him which bangs and clinks loudly as it hits against his side, one could only guess what kind of instruments were hidden inside.
"It felt good didn't it? You felt like you won in the end?" Sam asks.
"What's that supposed to mean? I'm not proud of what happened." I reply.
He pressed on,
"Well I didn't say you had to be proud of murdering a man, I usually tend to not be proud either, but what I'm asking is if it felt good."
"Yeah I guess it did, but like I said, I don't plan on killing anybody else anytime soon." I say. "'Any time soon'", Sam repeats what I say quietly to himself, but I could still hear.
The walk up the hill felt unusually quick considering the distance it took. When we arrived at the spot at the top I noticed twelve sticks placed at different distances.
"What's this?" I ask.
"It's where I bury the bodies when I have to, which is rarely, but sometimes it happens." Sam replies.
Sam sets down the body to retrieve a shovel from inside his large shoulder bag. He hands it to me.
"You can start digging first because I had to carry that heavy thing all the way up the hill.",Sam heaves.
I dig for at least ten minutes, the soil is very light and loose, so the dig takes a very short amount of time. Sam finishes the last two feet. He wraps Todd in a white sheet from inside the bag, then lowers the corpse down into the hole. I replace the dug up earth back to where it belonged and I place a stick straight into the ground somewhere near where his head is located. The job is done.
We trudge back down the hill and get into Todd's bloodstained car. Sam looks at me, his face smeared with dried mud and blood staining his shirt. I look down at myself to see that I look quite similar.
"I'm proud of you.", Sam says.
"Because I killed someone?" I say cooly.
"Because you were brave… that's what I admire about you", he says.
Then he digs inside the bag and takes out a golden-colored handgun. I feel uncomfortable until he hands the gun to me and says,
"Take it. In case something happens. I-I just want you to be safe."
I take the glimmering weapon from his fingers and look to see if it's loaded, it is.
"Here's a few more rounds, just in case you need them." he says as he hands me three more bullets.
I look into his eyes but don't say a word, I'm trying to let my face express how I'm feeling; trusted. I put the extra rounds in my jean's pocket and the gun inside my bigger coat pocket. He leans in to kiss me but before our faces touch a shadow is cast on the car. I look up to see a huge, strong man standing in front of the car wearing a huge scowl with his hands place on his hips.
Chapter Five: Death Sticks Around
The man grins and continues to make eye contact with Sam. He walks over to the driver door and Sam rolls down the window.
"Hey'a Mike, been a while hasn't it?", Sam casually croaks out to the man.
"Listen kid, I know I promised your daddy you could have this land to do as you pleased with, but I've been getting some funny looks about what's really underneath those sticks on top of that hill." Mike says in a husky voice.
He is drunk. Very drunk. Sam lights a cigarette he took from my coat pocket.
"Now what are we going to do about that?" Sam says nonchalantly.
"Look, I ain't no fool Sam. I've been reading about you in the papers. What's that they call ya, 'Cut Throat Sam'?"
I feel on edge. I know what this man is getting at and I don't like it. Sam chuckles.
"Just what's so funny,boy?" Says Mike testfully.
"Look, are you turning me in?" Sam says, clearly not in the mood.
"Maybe I will. Maybe I won't if you find yourself some new land."
Mike stands waiting for an answer which doesn't come until a minute after Mike's statement.
Sam manages to say through gritted teeth,
"no."
"I see. Now are we going to have to do this the easy way or the hard way?"
Mike grabs the cigarette out of Sam's mouth and throws it on the ground then stomps on it.
"I don't want to kill you Mike."
Sam opens the door and steps in front of Mike who is about three times his size yet Sam still looks more intimidating. He takes out a knife.
"My name is Slit-Throat Sam, Mike."
"I know that." Mike blurts out.
Sam is almost hysterical by now,
"No you don't! I don't think you know the difference! YOU SAID CUT THROAT SAM. CUTTING is jagged and trashy work. Oh no, not for me! SLITTING is MUCH more fun you see, it's clean and allows the blood to flow out more smoothly. Now if you want Mike, I CAN SHOW YOU HOW I EARNED THAT NAME!"
I can't stop myself and I let out a scream before Sam's blade touches his throat. Sam whirls around and looks at me, the terror that filled his eyes was then replaced with sorrow. But at that moment, Mike grabs the knife and hold Sam's neck, then points the thing close to his face.
Mike says,
"Now I want no more foolin around. I want you, girl, to call the police right now, OR YOUR BOYFRIEND DIES!"
Hysterical, I look into Sam's eyes. His face reads,
Go ahead,call them, I'd rather that than dying.
I consider that for a minute until my fingers run across my pocket. I feel the barrel of the golden gun and I pull it out, stealthily. I point the gun at Mike.
"Go ahead. I'd like to see you try."
My hands are shaking as Mike starts laughing, hysterically. Then the next thing that happened was a deafening ring that stayed in my ears. I could hear nothing. I could focus on nothing. then arms wrap around me holding me and rocking me back and forth, slowly. I regain consciousness after about ten minutes. I look up at Sam and I kiss him so hard. I almost lost him, just like that; but I saved him: me, a girl who could barely even hold a handgun let alone fire one. Let alone fire one at someone else. Hot tears ran down my cheeks, my adrenaline was still going. I felt like I could jump off a cliff and live. It was wrong, but it was also right.