Chapter 3: Gold

The last victim was Mike Chang. The clue was the performing and it being implied that he'd had a relationship with Tina. It would appear she broke his heart :(

Gold. The colour that stands out, the colour that everyone strives for but few reach. It's a colour of victory, of fame and fortune.

My third victim wanted the gold so much. But then they met me, and the gold-handled knife was all that mattered.

I've gotten into a routine now. Once a week, I get up, have some toast. Go to work. Hide the body. Come back. Attempt to sleep. Get up. It's quite a comforting thing, routine. But I wanted a little excitement. So, with the help of my little accomplice, I decided to make their death a little different.

La Theatre Diamanté. The dead-end theatre where I had worked for the past fifteen years, ever since I left school with a budding career ahead of me. Back then this place was so glamorous to me. But now, I can see past the glitter to the dull grey foundations of the building, and the dull, grey, withered dreams of the people trapped within its walls. I always dreamt I would escape. But at past 30, I fear that window has closed too much for me to fit through. Have I wasted my chance?

I gaze across the Philadelphia skyline and sigh. At least I made it out of Lima. So many people never do. I should be grateful for that. But I left him behind…

I start reciting Beatrice's lines from Much Ado About Nothing. The director looks bored. I remember when he first joined the ensemble; he was vibrant, eyes blazing with youth and ideas. Now his expression remains glazed.

Hang on a second. His eyes were never that glazed. And why is his shirt stained red?

A figure walks up on stage. I assume it is Henri, who's going to play Benedick in the play. But the costume isn't Benedick's. The figure is medium build, dressed in a midnight cloak and a gold-studded mask. They stroll onto the stage and I can see pale skin, and light green eyes that seem darkened with emotion. I've seen those eyes, but I can't remember when.

"I always thought you would get somewhere in life. Clearly you've reached a dead end." The voice is quiet and level, but laced with malice and sarcasm. Fear creeps through my veins, but I use my acting skills to keep a calm expression.

"What do you want?"

"You. Come with me."

The figure takes my hand and removes the mask. It's all I can do not to scream. Scars cover the figure's face, which must have once been beautiful. Their blonde hair is cut short. The emerald eyes, the expression twisted with hate and malice. I don't recognise the figure, and the hideous scars mean I can't even determine whether the figure's a boy or a girl. The only thing I can tell is that the figure's younger than me.

The figure notices me staring and smiles a sad, twisted smile. "The scars, huh? Well, I've had a shit life. I see them as a trophy of survival."

She leads me up the stairs to the balcony over the stage. I try to break away, but they smile, and only then do I see the knife resting lazily in their hand. Wordlessly, I walk to the edge of the balcony.

"Are you going to kill me?"

The figure doesn't answer. She walks away, still keeping their eyes locked on me, and brings out a rope and a bundle of cloth. She ties my hands and ankles together and stuffs the cloth into my mouth. Tears are running down my cheeks. Why is this person doing this to me?

"Why am I doing this?" The figure seems to have read my mind. "Oh, your death isn't without reason. In fact, since you want to know, I'll tell you everything. After all, you won't be telling."

The scarred figure tells me everything. First, who they've killed and who they're planning to kill next. Then, they explain why they're killing everyone. Finally, they tell me who they are. It all makes sense. Horrifying sense. And any one of us could have stopped it. I'd heard about it all, some time ago, and I thought about helping, but decided I couldn't handle it.

I can't handle this. I black out.

When I wake up, the gag's been removed. The figure is sitting on a chair, watching me with interest. I notice another person, also with a black cloak and mask. They're taller, bulkier, although I still can't tell their gender. A pale arm protrudes from the cloak, with a long scar running down it. Their eyes look cold and the person is completely motionless, waiting for the scarred person's instructions.

"Well, I have given you my secrets. I can't have you spreading them around. So, you have two choices, because I'm very generous like that. You can jump off that balcony, and die on your own whim. Or, I could hand you to my willing accomplice here, and I promise you that method of death will be much more painful and much slower."

The figure pushes me to the edge of the balcony. The floor underneath is concrete. The thought of smashing onto that concrete makes me shake with fear. But the accomplice is brandishing a scarlet blade and has a sadistic smile.

"Sorry, too late, coward."

The figure comes to grab me, but a second before their fingers touch my flesh, I leap off the edge. For a few seconds, I'm flying.

Flying…

And so my third victim has their last performance. Turns out they were brave enough to take their last leap.

But my soul is thirsting for blood, so my next victim won't be so lucky.