chapter four: houdini

It was nearing the end of my first year at university when I began to grow restless.

It's hard to describe how my restlessness developed. It was just as though one morning when I woke up, I was suddenly just so angry and frustrated that I wanted to break everything in sight. I choked it down, though, and went for my usual early morning run before class. As I ran, every time I saw another person, I could feel the rage bubbling up within me, as though my anger was fuelled by the mere sight of my fellow human beings.

It scared me.

I felt as though I should go somewhere. I wasn't entirely sure where, but I knew I couldn't stay in Miami. It was as though I knew that something was about to happen. When I got back to my suburban Miami apartment and immediately headed for the shower, I realized that it wasn't that I just had sudden anger issues, and it was too early in the month for it to be PMS. That only left one logical conclusion, and it scared me more than the rage itself did.

I was craving a kill.

I stayed under the spray of the hot water until it started to run cold, just thinking over my options. What could I do about the fact that I was craving a kill? I couldn't run from it. It was a feeling. It would follow me anywhere. And anyways, if I went back home, my uncle might just kill me himself for being such a coward and denying the way of life he'd taught me. No. Better to stay here and deal with it myself.

And the only way to deal with an urge, I thought, was to scratch the itch it created.

I didn't do half of the planning I usually did. I wanted to do this quick. I just wanted to get it over and done with and get back to my normal life, if that was at all possible by this point. So I packed the trunk of my car with the supplies I would need for a kill space, and headed out to one of the sleaziest bars in town, fixing my disguise in the car. I pulled a wig of long, elegant black curls over my short brown hair and pinned it securely in place, having done my makeup already - heavy, but elegant. I looked at myself in the car's rear view mirror, taking in my brown contacts along with all the other distinct changes I'd made to my appearance, and could hardly recognize myself.

Good. That was what I was aiming for, after all.

I slid on a pair of wedge sandals before climbing out of the car. I thought it better not to go with stilettos, thanks to the dangers running in them posed. I noticed my hands shaking slightly as I locked my car, and I paused, taking a deep breath and letting myself slide into the persona I used whenever I was going out to the bar with my classmates. Only this time, the persona was slightly more dangerous. This time, it was a mixture of the persona I used when going to the bar, and the persona I used when hunting people.

My lips curled up in a small smirk as I felt my thought pattern shift slightly to accommodate the persona I'd adopted. It was frightening how easily I could do that, but right now I had no room for fear. I entered the bar, head held high, and went straight to scoping out its occupants.

Blond, short-haired female sitting alone at the bar. Her hair and clothing style told me she was likely a lesbian. From the bottles in front of her, she was on her fourth beer, and she looked somewhat depressed. Possibly just suffered a bad break-up - potential easy target, looking for a one-night stand to take her mind off her problems. I quickly did a scan of the rest of the room, not seeing anyone else who looked as easy of a target as the woman. I put a small smile on my face and approached her.

"Is this seat taken?" I forced a small, polite smile to show that I was friendly.

The blond seemed surprised that I was talking to her. Probably because I showed no outward signs of swinging her way.

"No...not at all," she said, patting it welcomingly. "Have at 'er."

I grinned and winked at her. "Thanks, hun." I slid onto the barstool, careful not to let the short skirt of my dress ride up so much that I'd end up flashing people. I hated wearing short skirts. I never wore them. And that was precisely why I kept one for occasions like this. I waved the bartender over and turned to the blond, hunching my shoulders forward a bit to accentuate my cleavage. I didn't miss the way her eyes dipped downward before moving back to meet my eyes. I smiled. "Can I buy you a drink?"

She blinked owlishly. "Oh," she said, realizing that I was hitting on her. Good. If I had to get any more obvious I'd be flashing my boobs at her. "Yeah. I'd like that. Thanks." She stuck out her hand for me to shake. "Name's Casey. What's yours?"

"Jaime," I lied easily. I always used my former friend's name when I had to use an alias. It came easier than using an unfamiliar name, and I responded to it better because I was so used to looking up to see who was calling my friend when we were together. "That's a nice name." I turned to the bartender who had come over. "I'll have a screwdriver... You?" I turned my head to the other woman, attentive. Hopefully she'd order something a little stronger now that she thought she was going to get lucky. Liquid courage, after all.

She smiled. "Just another beer for me," she said, shaking her almost empty bottle at the bartender, who nodded and opened a fresh one in front of her, turning to mix my drink.

I controlled my frustration at her distinct lack of drunkenness. I would just have to improvise a little. I fiddled with the small vial of sedative tucked up the long sleeve of my dress for a moment, deciding I would have to make my move just before we left. I didn't want anyone getting suspicious if the rather sober woman were to suddenly knock out cold. Damn. I'd have to do some pretty smooth talking to get her out of here as fast as possible.

"So, Miss Casey," I said, taking a sizeable gulp of my drink once the bartender slid it in front of me and relishing in the burning feeling as the alcohol ran down my throat, "what brings you to the bar tonight?"

-o-

Thankfully, after Casey's fifth beer, she'd insisted we do some tequila shots. I was so glad I'd hid some sponges in my cheeks to soak up the alcohol. I had to change them once during our bout of shots. Never was I more happy for washroom stalls, because Casey had tagged along with me to the women's bathroom. After she had a few shots in her, though, she seemed to finally be properly drunk, and had launched a somewhat sloppy kiss at me, just landing on the corner of my mouth. I forced myself not to bristle at the unwelcome contact. I'd never been particular to being touched by other people, because it meant relinquishing a certain degree of control. I didn't like relinquishing control. I made an effort to return the kiss, placing my hand on Casey's when she put a hand on my hip to steady herself so she wouldn't fall off her barstool. I laughed when our lips disconnected.

"What say we get out of here, Miss Casey?" I said with a wink.

"Yeah," she slurred a bit, sounding over the moon. "I like the sound of that, sexy lady."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, and signalled the bartender for another beer and paid the tab, slapping a handful of twenties on the counter.

Always cash; never credit. Just another rule my uncle had taught me.

"Here. One last beer for the road," I said, discreetly slipping the sedative into the open bottle and handing it to the woman. It was just a mild sedative; she should be awake within two or three hours after taking it, if I didn't wake her sooner. Just long enough to allow for traffic while I took her to the abandoned warehouse outside town that I had set up ready to go.

"Thanks, girlie," Casey said with a grin, lifting the bottle as if in a toast. "Bottoms up!"

I watched her predatorily as she drank, grabbing her free hand and tugging her towards the door of the bar. It would only take a couple minutes for the sedative to take effect, and I had to get her to my car before then if I wanted to avoid suspicion from any of the bar's other patrons. I did a quick scan of the bar, making sure no one was watching me.

My eyes locked with a man's, sitting towards the far end of the bar.

I froze.

The man had dark, curly hair, a slim build, prominent cheekbones and a square jaw, but none of that was what caught my attention.

It was his eyes.

His eyes seemed to see right through my disguise. It was as though he saw me for what I was; saw what I was doing for what it really was.

His eyes reminded me of my uncle's.

The man gave me a knowing smile and raised his drink to me before taking a sip, and it was as though a spell had been broken. Afraid my cover was going to be blown, I all but dragged Casey out of the bar, ignoring her half-hearted protests at the speed I pulled her out of there at. I loaded her into the passenger side, noting she'd drank almost the entire beer and was going a little limp. I quickly strapped her in and jumped in the driver's side, peeling out of the parking lot and heading for my destination as quickly as possible.

Great, I thought. Now I don't even know if I'll be able to enjoy my kill.

The drive calmed my nerves, though. I managed to assure myself that I looked so very different from how I usually looked that he would never be able to find me after tonight. Besides which, I made an effort not to hit up the same place twice. Miami was a big enough place to make that possible.

I would never see that man again, I assured myself. There was no need to panic.

And with that, I smiled, pulling up to the warehouse where it would happen.

I was going to enjoy my kill after all.

-o-

I walked across the platform and shook hands with the dean of the paralegal studies program, posing for a picture with him while I accepted my diploma. I smiled convincingly, but could not ignore the irritating fact that my aunt and uncle were here to watch me graduate, and my aunt was being her usual overly-chipper self, cheering loudly while my uncle smiled tightly from the seat beside her. I kept my focus solely on my aunt. After all, despite that her excessive energy could be tiring and somewhat annoying, I didn't hate her near as much as I loathed my uncle.

After the graduation was over, my aunt rushed up to me and wrapped me in a surprisingly strong hug for a woman as short and slender as she was. I patted her back until she finally let me go, and forced myself not to glare at my uncle when he moved to hug me as well. He pulled me close and whispered threateningly in my ear.

"Have you been a good girl while you've been living away from home?"

I knew he wasn't asking if I'd behaved like an upstanding citizen. That was his way of asking if I'd killed anyone. The sick bastard.

"Yes," I ground out.

It was true. I hadn't even been able to quit after killing that Casey woman near the end of first year. Four years at Miami Dade, and I'd killed twice a year after the first year. It seemed to be getting worse, though. This year, I had killed two people before mid-term exams, and though I'd been trying to stifle the urge as long as possible, I was already itching to kill someone again. I could tell it would need to be soon. Before the week was out, if possible. I felt like I was going to have a psychotic breakdown if I didn't get the rush I got from killing soon.

"You'll have to show me your souvenirs sometime," my uncle said.

I saw red. How dare he question my honesty? I never asked for him to turn me into a killer! All I wanted was a normal life, and thanks to his sick and twisted ways, it was becoming more and more apparent that I would never be able to have that. I would never be able to be a normal girl. I would never be able to settle down with a normal guy and have normal kids of my own and live in a normal neighborhood and have a normal job.

I hated him for that.

"No," I said.

My uncle promptly extricated himself from our hug and stared me dead in the eye.

"What did you just say?" he said lowly.

I drew myself up to my full height, squaring my shoulders and staring him in the eye defiantly.

"I said no, uncle." I smiled tightly at him. "I'm not a child anymore. I'm twenty-two. I can look out for myself, and you're going to go back home and let me live my life the way I see fit."

He looked as though he were about to burst a blood vessel, with how red his face turned. I knew that if we hadn't been in such a crowded place, he would have been beating me to a bloody pulp right now. I was surprised he was able to keep himself from doing so now. My aunt, seeming alarmed by the palpable tension between the two of us, stepped forward and placed her hand on my uncle's arm. He tensed, but then relaxed once he looked down and saw my aunt's tender face.

"It's alright, Callum," aunt Aria said, ever the one to soothe my uncle's temper. How she had the homicidal maniac wrapped around her finger, I'd never know. You'd think that someone as cold and spiteful as my uncle would hate someone as soft and happy as my aunt, but instead it was the exact opposite. I could practically see him softening as she spoke. "She's an adult now. You have to let her grow up sometime."

My uncle gave my aunt the slightest smile and squeezed her hand gently.

"Alright, Ari. I guess you're right," he said, looking at me and trying to keep up the gentle smile, but I could see the calculating look in his eyes. "I guess I'm just overprotective of our dear girl." He held his arms open for another hug. "C'mere, sweetheart."

I couldn't exactly refuse the hug without confusing and offending my aunt, so I reluctantly stepped into my uncle's embrace, feeling the foul hiss of his breath in my ear as soon as I did.

"Don't think for a moment this is the last you'll hear from me, kid."

Not in a million years, dear uncle.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait for the update! Last month I tried to do NaNoWriMo with my other active fanfic (and failed), and on top of that I had finals, which was terrible, but I survived! Haha. Either way, monthly updates will be back for this fic from now on, same as before - updates every first Sunday of the month!