Crimson

Staring into the wall, Johnny heard the noise. A shifting. A grinding. Something not human enough to live with. Then again, Johnny barely considered himself human. The red was already fading to brown.

"I need blood," Johnny said aloud."

"Wouldn't red paint work just as well?" said the dead bunny nailed to the wall.

"Nah, I dunno. It's too simple that way. It's too easy. Nothing's that easy. I need blood to hide whatever stirs behind that wall."

"Nny, I don't think there's anything there."

Johnny spun around and glared at the decomposing rabbit. "Shut up! Just shut up! How would YOU of all people know about it, nail-bunny? Just shut the fuck up!" Johnny grabbed two knives, stuffed them inside his jacket, and slammed the front door as he made his way out.

It was dark. The sliver of moon barely made enough light to see the silhouettes of houses. The only working streetlamp flickered.

"Of course, there's no one out on such a beautiful Tuesday night," Johnny muttered.

Johnny headed over to the town. It was almost empty. Occasionally a person walked by, but no one he felt like killing. No, he had to find the right one. Someone who stirred within him the urge to kill. But still, the few people that passed by didn't arouse such feelings.

Turning into an empty alley, Johnny waited. The time stretched on, and the anticipation built up. Johnny clutched the knife underneath his jacket. He bit the tip of his finger, and hungrily licked the blood that flowed. His vision was going blurry with the need. He growled as a jogger passed by from a distance.

He needed to kill someone. Anyone. Now!

Suddenly, he saw a shadow moving in his direction. The alley was a dead-end, with two walls on both sides, and a third at the end. The shadow continued approaching. Johnny gripped both blades, clenching his jaw. The slender hooded figure was almost here.

"I might as well have a bit of fun with this one," Johnny thought.

The figure passed him by, not even noticing his existence, and continued moving. It took every ounce of muscle for Johnny not to attack right there.

Suddenly, he sprang; grabbing the silhouette. He threw duct tape quickly around the wrists of the struggling person, and began to drag them through the backstreets to his crypt. He held a knife to the throat of his victim, but it didn't end the movement.

"I'll kill you right here and now if you don't quit fighting!" Johnny threatened, and using the knife in his left hand, he pressed the blade quickly but deeply into the victim's shoulder. A low female voice let out a muffled gasp, then went quiet.

Puzzled, Johnny continued dragging the bleeding woman back home. Why did she gasp as if she had sudden realization? Most girls scream. Or cry. Or beg for mercy. And if they gasp, they breathe heavy, whimper, or whatever. But just a gasp? Johnny regretted not going after the jogger, because this didn't look like it was going to be much fun.

Upon entering the house, Johnny threw his bleeding victim on the floor. The figure sat up, and quickly removed her hood.

The blood ran cold in Johnny's veins as he stared into the girl's pale face. Wide dark eyes watched his every move. Her skin looked so pale against her purple hair and the crimson blood on her cheek. Johnny opened his mouth to speak, but could only utter one word.

"Devi?"