Ch.1

You traveled quietly through the woods, your next victim on your mind. The full moon hung bright in the sky. A light autumn breeze whipped your long, brown hair across your face as your black, laced boots pounded the ground. You stopped for a moment to pin your hair under the hood of your red hoodie then continued on your journey. Your blood lust was strong from a week of stalking and you were ready to spill blood. You were ready to see the life leave the eyes of your next victim.

You came into town and stuck to the shadows, careful not to draw attention to yourself. It wasn't long before the house of your intended came into view. You climbed up the tree outside your victim's bedroom window and used the edge of your knife to unlock the latch. As quietly as you could, you lifted the window up and stepped into the bedroom.

You stepped to the side of the bed and eyed the sleeping figure. Your next victim was a girl, a teenager around the age 16. She had long, platinum blonde hair that laid around her in waves. She had pink lips, and under her sleeping eyelids, you knew rested beautiful emerald eyes. Her long eyelashes curled down and softly touched her soft, pink cheeks. She looked so peaceful laying there. But she wouldn't stay that way for long.

You placed your hand over her mouth and she jolted awake. She saw the knife gripped in your fist, crusted with dry blood. She started shaking and whimpering the usual lines 'please don't kill me' and 'ill do anything you ask' etc. You shushed her, an almost motherly sound to your velvety voice and said, "It's all right, love. You don't have anything to worry about. We're all mad here." And then you sliced her throat, her crimson blood spilling onto the floor. You quickly cut open her night shirt and made a deep incision upon her abdomen. You pulled a white rose out of your hoodie pocket and twirled it around her insides, coating it thoroughly in her blood. You smiled at the now bloody rose and set it tenderly on the pillow next to the corpse's head. You snuck out the window and hurried down a nearby alley before the police arrived at your latest crime scene.

As you ran, you grinned like a Cheshire cat and cackled quietly to yourself. Getting away with murder was almost too easy. The town was small with a minute, inexperienced police force. Crime was uncommon so people were unsuspecting and mortified when you arrived. They had no clue how to defend themselves against your murderous tendencies. Their pathetic trust in the power of good made you laugh. Of course, you wouldn't be able to stay for long. The defenseless police department would send for reinforcements and you'd be forced to move elsewhere. But you might as well enjoy it while it lasts.

You continued down the dark alley and it wasn't long before the woods came into view. Your pace quickened, eager to return unseen and change out of your bloody clothes. Though you loved your red hoodie, skinny jeans, and black combat boots, dried blood isn't particularly comfortable.

You were nearly out of the alley when you heard a deep, eerie voice behind you, singing.

"All around the mulberry bush"

You stopped and turned around.

"The monkey chased the weasel."

A dark figure appeared from behind a dumpster.

"The monkey thought it was good fun."

The figure stepped closer, edging towards you. Your fingers slid down to the waist band of your pants, and you grasped the hilt of your blade. The figure stepped into clear view.

"Pop goes the weasel."

A monochrome clown stood before you, his white eyes dancing with sinister glee and his dagger-like teeth bared in a grin. Laughing Jack. He stood before you, grinning slyly. His arms hung loosely at his sides. You stayed silent, glaring up at him. His grin widened at your sour expression and he began chuckling. His laughter grew to a psychotic cackle as he grabbed his abdomen and tilted his head back.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" you snarled angrily.

He quieted his cackle to a quiet snicker and replied, "I'm laughing at you, my dear Red Queen." He stepped closer and raised his hand to your cheek, his thumb softly caressing your smooth skin. "And might I just say you look quite lovely when you're angry and soaked in blood."

You couldn't help yourself. He was impossible to stay mad at. Your glare softened into a cheeky smile and you roughly grabbed his face and smashed your lips against his. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you back. You stood there, snogging each other for a few minutes before breaking apart for air. He ran his clawed hand through your hair, lust clouding his eyes, and you smiled softly up at him.

You poked his striped, pointy nose playfully and asked, "So what are you doing around here?"

Laughing Jack grinned widely and said, "The same thing you're doing. You can't keep all of the fun to yourself."

You pouted a bit and whined, "Oh, fine. Just don't steal any of my victims."

He softly pressed his black lips to yours and said, "I believe I can honor that."

You pecked his nose before ducking out from under his arms. You held hands and walked together back into the forest.

~2 years earlier~

You sat in your room, listening to music and trying to shut out the thuds coming from below. You were an only child living with a mental mother who liked to get drunk and beat the shit out of you. Your dad left when you were 12. He couldn't handle your mom, and you couldn't blame him, but you were still pissed at him for not taking you with him. He claimed he was too busy to be able to take care of you, that his hours at work were too hectic. You knew he was just embarrassed to have a daughter so odd and friendless. He didn't want to deal with your pain. So instead he left you with your mom, knowing he was only adding to your suffering.

You were now 17. It was the summer after junior year and it was only a few weeks before you'd be starting your senior year. You had gained a few friends and accepted your oddities. You were basically a part of a group of people who had no group of their own. You couldn't ask for better friends. You would have killed yourself if it wasn't for them. You still cut sometimes when you got overstressed and your coping outlets didn't work, but you were no longer determined to kill yourself.

It was your friends that helped you get through nights like this where your mom came home drunk and angry. You knew it wouldn't be long before she stormed upstairs into your bedroom and started beating you. You used to fight back as a kid, but you discovered it only made things worse, and since your dad wasn't there to protect you anymore, you just took the beatings and went on with life.

"Winter!" your mom snarled. (That's your name. A bit odd, I know. You like to think it's cruel irony reflecting the coldness of her black heart.) You didn't move from your spot. You turned your music up louder and tried to drown out your mom's screaming.

Moments later you heard loud thuds as your mom stomped and stumbled up the stairs. Your bedroom door flew open and your mom stormed in, face red, eyes blood shot, makeup running, and hair mangled. She had something hidden behind her back.

You sighed and sat up on your bed, pulling your headphones out. Before you could react your mom rushed you, tackling you to the ground. She began wailing on you with one fist, still keeping the other behind her back. When you just laid there, not moving or reacting, she became even angrier. Her other arm came around her back and you saw a kitchen knife clutched tight in her fist. Your eyes widened and you began to struggle beneath her. You shoved her off and made a dash for the door. She grabbed your foot, pulling you back down to the ground. She dug the knife deep into your right shoulder. You howled and withered in pain, kicking her in the face and knocking her out.

You struggled to your feet and ran downstairs. You didn't stop to grab anything on your way out. You just burst through the doors and ran, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You ran out of town and detoured into the woods. You ran for what felt like miles. The adrenaline rush faded and you slowed to a walk. The once dull pain in your shoulder returned tenfold, your body wracked with shaking and your pace slowing to an agonizing stumble.

You collapsed to the ground, the world around you going dark. You hadn't noticed before that it was raining. You were drenched to the bone and your body was cold. How fitting that your name was Winter and you were going to die freezing in the pouring rain. Your body felt light, almost as if you were floating. As your eyes drooped shut, you could have sworn that you heard Pop Goes The Weasel playing somewhere in the distance.