Author's note: I've updated the prologue; sorry it was so terrible to read. I'll refrain from using 1st person ever again in this story. =.= I suck at using 1st person. It's going to be in 3rd person's view from now on. My apologies. xoxo.

Chapter one: Survival of the fittest

It was very dreary as the sun broke away from the tumbling clouds and gleamed among the living. The rays cast upon the rolling green pastures and humble houses that resided here. Its glaring brightness warned the citizens of a new day.

A woman now exited one of the many similar looking cottages located on a rather steep hill. She collected her belongings in her driveway, weary that she would not have the time to collect her thoughts in time for work. She slowly proceeded to her modest P.T. Cruiser and slid into the drivers seat. She exhaled and inhaled in a pattern; maybe a start to a calming breathing exercise. Once she seemed to be sarine again, she took a cautious look at her surroundings.

"Paranoia is just curiosity masked as a death wish." she recited to herself. She couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of death that loomed over her city like a dangerous storm cloud. How could she? It's natural to be afraid of dying. Yet, she still had doubts that she was just overreacting "Inner turmoil at it's best." she thought bitterly as she gently closed the car door, adjusted in her seat, fastened the seat belt, and headed off for work.

Driving along the quiet streets of her neighborhood, she couldn't help but to look over at each passing house, in fear of seeing a gruesome looking creature.

"Stop." she scolded herself quietly with a mental scowl. "You're overthinking it, just like you overthink everything else." Suddenly, a dog ran past her car, she gasped. She lost control of the wheel for a moment, swerving rapidly off the road. She yelped as she stomped on the break, praying to god she wouldn't die today. Once she came to a complete stop on the edge of the road, she scoffed and leaned further into her seat, rubbing her hands up and down her aching hands.

"How ironic" she bemused, "There is a killer on the loose and I was about to be killed in a car accident." She snickered with no mirth whatsoever. Ever so slowly, she reached for the steering wheel yet again and began to drive again. This time, she kept her eyes on the road and her thoughts to a minimum. She could muddle through these thoughts at a later time. Right now, she knew she had a job to do...even if she really just wanted to stay home and cower under the sheets of her bed.

Meanwhile...

Crimson danced to the floor in graceful ringlets, cascading down the throat of an unsuspecting victim. The jugular vein has been sliced sloppily, causing blood to ooze and jump from the deep wound. Blood stained the man's clothing. His knees giving away, he collapsed in a heap on the hardwood floor. The cold surface meeting his body was the last thing he would feel ever again. His world faded to darkness, black consuming his vision. His last breath was taken, his heart stopped thumping violently, now it lazily thudded...slowly coming to a complete stop.

His wife has met her fate merely an hour ago. Her stomach was torn open, revealing an empty torso. All her dislocated organs were organized neatly on the floor next to the bed. Her heart, kidneys, lungs, esophagus, her large intestines, her small intestines, her liver, and stomach were there, lying on the ground, never to be used again. blood coated the bedroom floor in thick, ghastly amounts. However, the most grotesque scene by far in this compulsive masterpiece was their daughter. She had to be no older than fifteen, her blonde hair draped over her face, caked in blood. Her head was turned down, parts of her skull cracked open to reveal her brain. She was hung by her neck from the ceiling, her feet dangling below her.

She put up a fight, nailing the sadistic intruder countless times with a wooden softball bat, punching him in the gut, and launching a kick to his groin once or twice before she finally met her match. She was then shoved against the wall, her neck constricted by his enormous gloved hands. He then proceeded to smash her head repeatedly against the wall, causing her skull to crack under his monstrous strength. She whimpered as he released her neck slowly, relishing in the sounds of her gulping for air. She was then gagged with a sock soaked in her father's blood. She screeched in pain around it, but it was no use. Her screams just came out as muffled groans of protest.

He then took a rope and a nail gun out of a duffle bag in a far corner. He took the rope and nailed it to the ceiling, yanking it once, then hung from it for a good minute. He smiled a crazed smile, obviously pleased with his handiwork. He then tied a noose using the remainder of the rope. He slowly turned to the girl. She had the eyes of dinner plates, her mouth sputtering muttered cries of pleas. He simply howled with laughter as he yanked her to her feet, grabbing a nearby stool and hoisting her onto it. He tightened the noose around her neck, giving her one last look over, he wiggled his fingers in a goodbye. He kicked the stool out from under her feet, leaving her writhing in midair, her head bobbing, her body quaking. A satisfying snap resounded throughout the room. He then gutted her, leaving her innermost organs to dangle from her body. The blood poured in oceans past her knees and to the floor.

The man responsible for all of their deaths simply turned his hunting knife over. He swiped it on a nearby bathrobe and looked into his gleaming weapon. He smirked at his reflection, staring in vain at his disfigured face.

"I'm beautiful..." He trailed off, and inhaled the smell of tart,metallic blood yet again. He could never get tired from it. It was an addiction. Just like alcohol is to alcoholics. He simply couldn't get enough.