After class ended, I followed Stacie (the blonde from earlier) to the parking lot. I slipped the plastic gloves on, and then hid behind a pillar as she walked to her white lexus. I flipped open my switchblade, sneaking up behind her.
Once she unlocked the doors, I made my move. I shouldered her into the door.
"What the Hell?!" She screamed turning around, and giving me a once over with her green eyes.
"Oops, sorry Stacie. I didn't mean to push you into your perfect car." I said, giving her a wolfish grin. I raised the switchblade, making sure she caught the gleam of my blade. She looked so frightened.
"You know the Bible says to respect your parents, right? Well, you broke a commandment, and now it's your turn to die." I slashed her cheek. A crimson stream spilled from the wound, but not by much.
"You bastard!" She screeched trying to claw my face, but I cut her arm. Her blood spilled to the ground creating a small puddle.
"Why?" She asked, starting to cry.
"I already told you, because you disrespected your mother, and I don't think you need a new phone; well not anymore." I said, my grin widening. I grabbed her arm, spinning her so that her back was flush against my front. I gripped the switchblade tighter, considering how dull the blade was, I'll have to push deeper which will hurt a lot more.
I quickly ran the blade across her throat. It took a minute, but the blood squirted and splashed across her window, leaving droplets of blood everywhere. The blood flowed from her neck like a waterfall. As I watched the life leave her eyes, like the sun leaving the sky, I licked the edge of my blade, and then grimaced. What the Hell was I thinking? That was disgusting.
I grabbed my paint brush from my jacket pocket, and on the front of the car hood, I painted a daisy. I looked at my phone clock, and found that the time was 1:45. Damn! I can't finish.
I open the back door on the driver's side and shoved Stacie in. I looked in the mirror, making sure I didn't have any blood on my face; I spotted a couple drops, and quickly cleaned them off.
I ran towards my apartment building making it five minutes before our meeting time. I took off the gloves throwing them in the dumpster beside the building. I took a deep breath. No one would find Stacie till later when the car started to heat up, and the body started to smell.
I looked at my phone again, he was five minutes late. I sat down on the stairs, closing my eyes from the harsh afternoon sun. I heard the shuffle of feet stop in front of me. I opened my eyes to find Thomas smiling down at me.
"I-is.. um something wrong?" I gave him wide worried grey eyes. Thomas' cheeks turned a light shade of pink. I stood up, and stretched my back.
"Let's… um.. Let's hurry this up." I stuttered, leading him into the building, waving to Jack, the man at the front desk.
"Why? Got a hot date tonight?" He asked as I pushed the button for the elevator.
"Um… hah… no, nobody really talks to me. I-I was more worried about your schedule." I mumbled, but it was clear that he heard me. And with that we walked into the now open elevator. It was quiet, until:
"What's your major?" He asked with a smug look on his face.
"I'm majoring in the arts, you know like, music or dance, but… um.. My choice was painting." I finished my sentence just as the doors opened letting us out into the halls of the fifth floor.
I lead him to room 535, with it's pristine gold numbers and blindingly white door. I opened the door to a very modern looking room.
"Wow, you sure do keep this place clean." Thomas commented looking around.
"I'm hardly ever home, so it stays clean like this for days." I answered being truthful. I opened the door to a bare room. I had the place furnished before I moved in so it had an adequate bed, a desk and chair, and an end table; all in a walnut brown.
"This will be your room, the bathroom is across the hall. My bedroom is at the end of the hall. The room across from mine is the art studio I spend most days in. There's the kitchen, I cook dinner every night if you would ever like to, you know, join me. A-and… um… the living room and dining room are comb-" I was cut off by a shrill ringing coming from Thomas' cell phone. He looked my way with an apologetic look as he answered the phone.
"McCallister... Yeah… Okay, I'm on my way." Thomas hung up the phone looking quite upset.
"W-what's wrong?" I tried to sound worried, a sick feeling building in the pit of my stomach.
"The Crimson Artist has struck again." He sighed, looking quite defeated. What? That quick?!
"W-what? W-where?" I sounded terrified. I tried hiding most of my face behind my curled fists, just like I had seen in a movie.
"Don't worry, it was in the next town over, nothing to be scared about." He said pulling me into a hug. Scared? I was pissed, and slightly flattered. My first copycat killer.
"Be safe." I whispered into his chest. I don't know why, but it just came out. He pulled away and looked at me very closely, and smiled.
"Of course." Thomas said, his smile widened. Then he did the one thing that caused my face to flush a deep red, he kissed my forehead. I may be gay, but I had no idea he was. My gaydar must be broken.
"Um… Uh… H-here, the copy of the key." I actually fumbled with my words. God, I hate myself. As he thanked me and left, I closed the door and walked into my studio. It was littered with brushes, paint, and sketches.
I breathed out, and pulled out a box. It was filled with sketches of the murders I had committed, and a picture of the flower from the newspapers. I hope the copycat knows he isn't me, and tries to commit his own crimes from now on. I grabbed a sheet of paper, and rough sketched poor Stacie in her car. My little tribute to this horrible woman.