I was pretending to be reading the newspaper while I listened carefully to what Aunt Rita was saying. Gossip was way better than any headline. There was some people out there, like me, who said gossiping was a waste of time and damaging , when in reality they hung on to every word.
The nice thing about living in an apartment building is that rumors spread quicker than the flea's do. Every Tuesday, there was batch of fresh gossip for my young ears. Today's clothesline chronicle was about poor old Louise in apartment six. Caroline Fisher had seen her kissing Sebastien from apartment seven. The only issue was, that they were married, to different people.
Closing the newspaper, I walked over to the kitchen. I needed to get this story straight. It was my only form of entertainment.
"Violet, what are you doing here? Your lunch is going to end in ten minutes. Get out!"
Groaning, I turned back around and faced the door. I never had any fun.
Life should be more interesting. Sure, I saw an assault, but for like three seconds. The prostitute walking me home was odd, but it wasn't the kind of odd I was looking for. I wanted excitement, spontaneity, a thrill, something new.
Everything was such a routine. I always found myself doing the same old thing. Just like right now, I was walking home from a boring and predictable day of work.
I had two blocks left, two and a half if you counted the factory.
As I kept walking, I noticed a figure. It was too dark to see if it was a woman or man. Uncertainty, clouded my stomach. I rarely saw people on this street at night. Could it be the killer from the newspapers?
No, it wasn't. I had to stop being stupid but I had to do something, I couldn't just keep walking towards the potential danger. Looking around, I crossed the dark and silent street. I manly avoided this side because instead of shops and apartments lining up after each other, it consisted of an ally and a construction site that had never been finished.
Controlling my hyperactive breathing, I kept walking. Hugging myself. Don't be scared, don't be scared. It's probably just a copper.
Why was I shaking so much?
It's just a stranger probably walking home, just like you, Violet.
I was halfway down the street. When suddenly, a rough and calloused hand reached out and covered my mouth, pulling me into an ally.
It felt as if porcupine pins had covered my entire body.
On instinct, I clawed at the hand, pulling and scratching, fighting the panic I felt, but his grip was to strong.
Blood pounded in my ears, as the attacker trapped my waist with this free hand. Picking me up and roughly pushing me against the ally's brick wall.
Breathe, just breathe. You've been through this before, you made it out once, and you can do it again.
I brought my bony knee up to hit his groin but my left foot slipped on the slime that covered the cobbled ground, causing me to slip down, only to be picked up again by the attacker, his right hand never leaving my mouth.
It was too big for me to bite and his other hand was set hard against my shoulders. I was trapped, but the stranger walking down the street must have seen. They had to have seen.
Using all the air in my lungs, I tried to scream. Frustration and fatigue overwhelmed me when only the only noise I made was muffled cries.
My attacker chuckled. "I've been waiting for this, you know? But that little tramp kept getting in the way"
What? What tramp? My memory flashed back to the police station when the stench of alcohol and rot surrounded my face, in a warm and repulsive cloud.
It was the drunk. The drunk who sat next to me and listened when I told Calico where I worked.
That was peculiar. That girl had disappeared. She was foolish. He hated when girls screamed. He would have never gone after her, but someone else did. A man, and he liked it when men screamed.
Running towards where he had seen the girl disappear crossed his mind, but he decided against it. She could suffer a little bit, so next time she wouldn't be so foolish.
Walking in the middle of the night, in Brooklyn. It was a surprise someone hadn't gone after her before.
Taking out his knife, he examined it. It was so pretty and different. It was shiny and the hilt was nice, smooth and made out of Italian leather. Maybe he should keep this one, to throw the police of his trail, of course, but it would depend on how this next kill went.
Reaching the ally, he held back a laugh. How pathetic. The man had his hand clasped against the feeble girl's mouth, while his other hand did who knows what to her. He didn't like assaulting on the weak. It wasn't fair. Murder should always be fair. But it wasn't and that was what he was here for. The police didn't realize that. They were too stupid to see the connection between his kills.
The girl had noticed him, she kept still and let him sneak behind the man. Maybe she wasn't so stupid after all.
How should he do this? Stabbing him straight in the back didn't seem as alluring. Maybe he should just leave and let the girl be tormented, that way she would know what life was really like. No one, but him, knew what life was like.
Then again, he might not find anyone else tonight, after all it was a Tuesday.
With a sigh, he aimed his knife at the man's neck and plunged it deep. A simple and basic move.
Blood tricked down the man's back. A black and oily substance in the night.
The wounded man turned around slowly as he gagged. The noises of a beheaded chicken.
He smiled when he saw the terror that filled the dying man's eyes. That should teach him not to rape fragile girls.
Collapsing to the ground, the rapist looked back at his victim, reaching out, asking for help.
Oh no. He had almost forgotten she was there. Looking back up at the girl, he saw something all too familiar.
Blood.
But some of it was hers.
The girls face was sprayed by the rapist's blood. But her dress was ripped on the top, exposing her chest. A long, but shallow slash was carved down the middle. How had the filthy street rat done so much damage in so little time? It was a good thing he had killed him when he did. Who knows what other damage that disgusting man could have done?
No, no, no. This wouldn't do.
Reaching out, I grabbed the girls arm and pulled her away from the wall. She was shaking. Poor creature.
Hospitals could not help her. They had failed him too many times already. He couldn't trust them to take care of her.
She would just have to go home with him.