-1Grace
I am The Hitcher.
The very moment I set my eyes on her, I knew, that it is destiny. She will be the one that will end it all. Her name is Grace.
It all begin in one rainy night. The rain was drumming on the windshield on the car I'm in. And suddenly I saw lights coming from behind this car. I took out the knife I buried inside the person who took me on his ride, in John Ryder's guts and watched as the blood dripped from the jagged edge of the knife. I took swipe of it with my tongue, and grinned at the coppery taste filled my mouth. I wiped it clean of the thick fluid leisurely and kept the knife in my pocket. And I opened the door of the car and walked in the middle of the torrential rain. As I stood up in the middle of the road, a car came into my view.
The car nearly hits me, misses me by a couple of inches, and skidded and turned nearly 360 degrees on the road before coming to a sudden stop. And I stood on the same spot, not moving a muscle. Even though I have been near hit by the car, I feel nothing. My heart's beating in it's slow, normal rhythm.
I don't feel a thing.
I have killed many people, and the thrill of the game of the hunt and the hunted have made everything in this life of mine pales in comparison. Nothing else sets my blood racing, nothing else will make me feel alive other that the kill. My life is empty without it.
The car stopped for a few minutes. I walked towards it, and feel my blood flowing inside me, aroused by the thought of new victims, new game and new kills.
When I'm nearly reached to the car, it suddenly speeded up the highway, leaving me there. All alone, my needs unfulfilled, my desire for the kill unsatiated.
But there's no need to worry. Cause I am the master of this game. The hunter will never lose sight of its prey. We will meet again. Surely. Sooner or later.
And as I predicted, we met again. As I walked out of the truck I hitched in, I saw the young man filling his car with gas, looking sideways at me, trying to look at me without being obvious. It's him. The one prey that have escaped me. But you will never escape me again. Oh yes, never.
Oh, what pleasure it gave me when I saw my other prey. A pretty young girl. She's fine looking, with long brunette hair that falls in soft waves, framing her oval face. Her dimple, her kissable lips and that eye, that eye framed with long, fluttering eyelashes that pierces to my soul.
Her name is Grace.
Her eyes looked at me with disgust, with fear and distrust. But all I feel when I look at her is desire. A cursed human like me can never feel love. But I can feel desire. Desire. Desire for her. Desire for her to destroy me. But the desire I have for her will never be returned. But I will make her. I will make her desire to kill me. And that is my last desire.
I choose her. I chose her, and I chose for her for the ultimate game. The last game. Cause I knew when I look in her eyes, she is destined to end the game.
When people asked me, where am I from, I will always answer, I'm from here and there, and everywhere. Because that is the truth. Because I'm doomed to wander on the surface of this earth for eternity, never to belong. Never to belong to somewhere, never to belong to someone. Never to have lived but to take people's life for the chance to feel alive. Never to have an identity, never to be a person, but doomed to kill in order to be a person. I am cursed. Because I am The Hitcher. Cursed forever.
And now I knew how to break it. Her. Grace. Her grace will set me free.
In order for her to grant me her grace to do so, I have to break her. Break her in order for her to break me. Push her till her breaking point. Till she bent and break.
And it's all so easy for me to orchestrate.
When I chained her boyfriend between the trucks, she came to the breaking point. She pointed the gun at me, and I got impatient. I took the gun by force and placed the barrels between my eyebrows, looking at her in her eyes, saying , kill me. Kill me now. End it all.
She begged and pleaded. She screamed and cried. And she couldn't pull the trigger. I am disappointed in her. I am so disappointed by her till I let go of the clutch and floored the accelerator, breaking her boyfriend into pieces and breaking her heart in process.
When the sheriff asked me in the interrogation room, "Why did you do this? You knew that you would be caught in the end," all I could think is that, he is wrong. Because I knew I would never get caught, willingly. No one could kept a wolf in cages, and no one can put me in jail. I am in custody because it's my will, and this is the final puzzle piece of the game. The final piece that will trigger her.
As she stepped out of the flaming vehicle with the shotgun in her hands and that hard look in her eyes, I knew that the puzzle have been complete.
I turned away and walked away. And felt the force of the shotgun blast on my back, the impact throwing me facedown on the tar road. And I feel it. Satisfaction. And closure.
When I asked her, did she feel it, did she feel the way I feel when someone's life is in your hand and with a flick of a finger, you can take it away. She said she didn't feel a thing.
Not a thing?
Liar.
I knew she lied. I knew she lied as she pointed the barrel right between my eyebrows.
I knew what she really feels.
I knew.
The end.