I was reading Born Bad by Andrew Vachss (awesome author - wish I was as good as him) and I got the urge to sort of incorperate his idea into my own little... set of drabbles. Yeah. This is set in an AU so everyone is probably a little (very) OOC. Anywho, enjoy my fail attempt at writing something that's not crack. c:
Disclaimer: I don't own KHR, but I do own a copy of Andrew Vachss' book.
He'd watched her for a couple of weeks now – watched her from afar, from within the confines of his van. She worked as a pole dancer in a local club in the red-light district and he'd been shamefully stalking her, completely obsessed. His pants tightened when he watched her dance inside, when he saw her leave the club, when he saw her alone and vulnerable. He wanted her. Badly. He was ever-watching, waiting for the perfect time to strike. Eventually one night, he saw his chance.
She fished her cell phone out of her bag and phoned a friend as she walked to the bus station (even high-class whores such as herself couldn't afford cars, it seemed). Of course, the deserted station made it all the more easier. He pulled his van over near the bus stop and kept it running on neutral as he got out to open up the back of his van. Everything he needed was there; chloroform, duct tape, rope. He smirked and slowly approached the bus stop – the woman was still busy chattering away on her phone.
She noticed him eventually but didn't pay him any mind. He checked the timetable quickly; his car was still running and he didn't want it getting stolen, nor did he want to pay for the wasted petrol. He turned to face the woman and stood in front of her. Eventually, she looked up him and covered the receiver of her phone, a little annoyed.
"Can I help you?"
The man didn't say anything, he just smirked at her. With a swift movement, her cheap mobile had been smashed and a wet cloth was pressed roughly against her face and she couldn't help but accidentally breathe in the fumes. The last thing she saw was his menacing smirk and his strange white hair.