Under the cover of night, the beast was pleased. Here it could carry out its bloody work without the harsh daylight allowing witnesses to see its work. Its human was nimble and young. He was very capable of killing, and killing was what had been done tonight.

Six had been slaughtered tonight, and a seventh was to conclude the gory episode. This grand finale had been saved specially for last, and the beast purred with desire in anticipation. Its meal was close to complete. This pièce de résistance would quell its thirst. It could lie dormant for years so long as its human was not convicted. It would awaken now and then, but after this seventh death, it would be content to retire.

The human was poised up in a tree, an axe in hand. The blade glistened with blood that caught the moonlight. The moon had been climbing steadily for hours now, and it was nearly midnight. The prey would be walking by at any moment. The human would strike and the beast would be satisfied.

Rustling branches behind him startled the human. His weapon slipped slightly and he tightened his grip around it frantically. This was no time to slip up. The beast roared inside of him and a flicker of fear passed through his eyes, but it quickly disappeared. He had killed tonight already. The time for fear and for doubt had passed.

Gripping his weapon more tightly, the boy edged a little ways farther down the branch. He was not scrawny. Since he was seven he had been building up muscle and strength and wit. This was the murder he had been meditating on. The others were mere byproducts, things the beast hungered for. He didn't mind the beast. As long as it brought him to his ultimate goal, the extras were just fine.

First it had been a doctor. Then an innocent woman. A young boy and girl from school. A neighbor. Lastly, a teacher. They had seemingly no connection, which was just what the human needed. The peacekeepers were smart, but even they would not be able to connect the seven murders. He would not be punished.

And then the minute was upon him. Below walked the unsuspecting victim, going home after a long day of work. Quiet as a mouse, the human dropped down from the tree and landed directly behind him. The blood on the axe was ready to mix with its last victim.

Channeling the anger that had been building up for the last six years, the young man pulled back the axe and then swung his arms forward, slicing the head clean off of the man in front of him. He made no sound with his mouth, only falling with a heavy thump to the ground. The head rolled a few feet away and came to a stop with the face staring at the killer. The head wasn't quite dead yet, and the eyes opened wide and blinked once before stilling.

It was done.

The beast gave a final roar as the human hacked at his victim with the axe. Bloody ruts marred the body. Final, the beast quieted and the human stopped moving. From his pocket he pulled a single feather and placed it on the deceased man, as he had done with all the victims that night. He raced home and cleaned the weapon. It was getting close to dawn. The stolen weapon would need to be returned swiftly. If he was seen he would be convicted and killed. There was no one to say he hadn't been home all night, so if anyone dared to suspect him there would be only him to vouch for his whereabouts.

Heart beating faster than it had during any of the killings, he raced to the shed where the tools were kept and stowed the axe away safely before high-tailing it back home. He had not been seen.

This pleased the beast.

The human awoke in the morning to screaming. He couldn't help but smile to himself. He knew why they were screaming, and to cause such turmoil excited him. But now it was time to act.

He sat bolt upright and dashed downstairs, flinging open the door. There, one of the people from across the street was screaming over the body of the neighbor he had killed last night. He forced tears to spring to his eyes and began screaming, too. The surrounding houses came to see what the noise was and joined in.

All around the District there was screaming. There were seven bodies to despair over, after all. When a peacekeeper told him that his father had been killed, he began wailing louder than anyone else. He fell to the ground at his father's body and hugged him, his pajamas soaking up the blood that had not yet dried.

No one suspected this boy.

And so he watched as seven suspects were rounded up. The entire District was called to the square and they watched as seven peacekeepers whipped seven citizens to death. The boy made it look as though he were trying not to cry, as the other children were.

But on the inside he was grinning. He was jumping for joy, he was practically singing! The blood of seven victims had touched his skin, and he was not held accountable for the lives of any of them. He had won this round.

They judged him old enough to live without a parent in his own house. He worked hard in the fields to get by, and people took pity on him because his father had been slaughtered. No one knew that he had done it. They gave him things and tried to help him. He refused politely, laughing at them in his head. They were so stupid. They were all so stupid!

Life went on after that night. The beast lay dormant, content to live on the blood that had been spilled. It didn't bother the human and the human didn't bother it. The relationship was mutualistic.

That was five years ago.