Secrets Don't Make Friends
Secrets Don't Make Friends.
Secrets Don't Make Friends
He stood, engulfed in shadows, waiting for his next victim.
They were close, he knew that. He could smell their sweet blood.
“A little longer.” He told himself.
A small wind blew into the dark ally, and ruffled his sandy-blonde hair a little. The scent grew stronger, and his grip on the blade tightened.
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
The sound of heels echoed off the wet walls, returning back to their owner. Then a girl came into view. Walking casually down the middle on the ally, unsuspecting of what was about to happen to her. She was a pretty one. She looked so innocent. Her dark-brown hair swayed slightly with each step she took, her mismatched blue and brown eyes were flashing between determination and fear, and her pale-white skin seemed to glow like the moon.
He waited until she came in front of his hiding place, when he drew the blade. Then he struck, moving faster than the human eye could see. Her back pressed against him; making it hard for her to move. His hand held her mouth, muffling her slight scream of surprise when she realise the cold metal of the blade was only inches away from her neck. She gave a slight whimper, and a tear escaped her brown eye, slowly sliding down her cheek and staining her pale skin. He was surprised, but quickly recovered, allowing his hand to heavily slap the girls’ tear-stained face. Fresh crimson red seeped from her cheek, snaking its way down her face and dripping onto his free arm that was positioned across her chest.
He stepped back, dragging the girl with him, into the darkest part of the ally. She started to squirm a little; his hand muffling her cries for help. She bit his hand hard, and he cursed through clenched teeth, stumbling backwards and dropping the blade. The girl squirmed one more time and was finally freed from her attackers grip. She took this chance to run, her hair failing behind her as she started out of the ally and down the street.
His pain finally disappeared and he glanced around, looking for his victim, only to fail. He bent to pick up the blade and wiped the blood from it. Then he sprung from his kneeling position and let his frail legs carry him, his mind set on one thing, finding that girl. She was going to go to the police, of coarse she would, and he couldn’t let that happen. The last time someone ran, everything went wrong.
He found her at the old abandon park, sitting on a bench in the middle of the half-dead field. She looked a total mess. More tears stained her face but the cut on her cheek had stopped bleeding. The dried blood mingled with her tears and were streaming onto her now-tattered clothes, removing most signs of their original colour. Fresh blood was oozing from a large cut in her hip, slowly draining her strength.
He needed to finish the job. He smoothed his hair down and placed his glasses onto his nose, giving him a completely different look. An innocent look, it always fooled them.
He walked towards her cautiously, trying not to scare her, reaching the park bench and sitting next to her. She gave a small whimper of pain as she shifted and looked at her new acquaintance. He showed her a warm reassuring smile, and grabbed her shoulder abruptly, making the girl jump. He grinned and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, locking her against his chest. He stepped off the bench and began quickly dragging her backwards, towards the gratified toilet block. She stared to struggle, scratching and biting at the hand that now held her mouth. He stopped and shifted his arm so she was facing him. A loud crack snapped through the air, and blood began streaming from his noes. Her fist had collided with his face while the attacker reached for his knife; now it was missing. She slashed his face with her nails, making wounds that began to dribble with blood. But he took no notice, he was determined to find his knife.
A sharp pain entered his back, and he dropped against a gratified wall. The girl quickly strolled over and pulled the knife out of his back, rolling him to look at her.
“Abby?” the attacker choked.
The girl beamed and nodded, “Goodbye Mikey.” And plunged his knife into his chest.
Mikey let out a shaky breathe and heavily slumped over, blood leaking from his mouth and wounds, dead.
“Another one down.” Abby cooed, as she turned and walked out of the park, looking for her next victim.
He stood, engulfed in shadows, waiting for his next victim.
They were close, he knew that. He could smell their sweet blood.
“A little longer.” He told himself.
A small wind blew into the dark ally, and ruffled his sandy-blonde hair a little. The scent grew stronger, and his grip on the blade tightened.
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.
The sound of heels echoed off the wet walls, returning back to their owner. Then a girl came into view. Walking casually down the middle on the ally, unsuspecting of what was about to happen to her. She was a pretty one. She looked so innocent. Her dark-brown hair swayed slightly with each step she took, her mismatched blue and brown eyes were flashing between determination and fear, and her pale-white skin seemed to glow like the moon.
He waited until she came in front of his hiding place, when he drew the blade. Then he struck, moving faster than the human eye could see. Her back pressed against him; making it hard for her to move. His hand held her mouth, muffling her slight scream of surprise when she realise the cold metal of the blade was only inches away from her neck. She gave a slight whimper, and a tear escaped her brown eye, slowly sliding down her cheek and staining her pale skin. He was surprised, but quickly recovered, allowing his hand to heavily slap the girls’ tear-stained face. Fresh crimson red seeped from her cheek, snaking its way down her face and dripping onto his free arm that was positioned across her chest.
He stepped back, dragging the girl with him, into the darkest part of the ally. She started to squirm a little; his hand muffling her cries for help. She bit his hand hard, and he cursed through clenched teeth, stumbling backwards and dropping the blade. The girl squirmed one more time and was finally freed from her attackers grip. She took this chance to run, her hair failing behind her as she started out of the ally and down the street.
His pain finally disappeared and he glanced around, looking for his victim, only to fail. He bent to pick up the blade and wiped the blood from it. Then he sprung from his kneeling position and let his frail legs carry him, his mind set on one thing, finding that girl. She was going to go to the police, of coarse she would, and he couldn’t let that happen. The last time someone ran, everything went wrong.
He found her at the old abandon park, sitting on a bench in the middle of the half-dead field. She looked a total mess. More tears stained her face but the cut on her cheek had stopped bleeding. The dried blood mingled with her tears and were streaming onto her now-tattered clothes, removing most signs of their original colour. Fresh blood was oozing from a large cut in her hip, slowly draining her strength.
He needed to finish the job. He smoothed his hair down and placed his glasses onto his nose, giving him a completely different look. An innocent look, it always fooled them.
He walked towards her cautiously, trying not to scare her, reaching the park bench and sitting next to her. She gave a small whimper of pain as she shifted and looked at her new acquaintance. He showed her a warm reassuring smile, and grabbed her shoulder abruptly, making the girl jump. He grinned and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, locking her against his chest. He stepped off the bench and began quickly dragging her backwards, towards the gratified toilet block. She stared to struggle, scratching and biting at the hand that now held her mouth. He stopped and shifted his arm so she was facing him. A loud crack snapped through the air, and blood began streaming from his noes. Her fist had collided with his face while the attacker reached for his knife; now it was missing. She slashed his face with her nails, making wounds that began to dribble with blood. But he took no notice, he was determined to find his knife.
A sharp pain entered his back, and he dropped against a gratified wall. The girl quickly strolled over and pulled the knife out of his back, rolling him to look at her.
“Abby?” the attacker choked.
The girl beamed and nodded, “Goodbye Mikey.” And plunged his knife into his chest.
Mikey let out a shaky breathe and heavily slumped over, blood leaking from his mouth and wounds, dead.
“Another one down.” Abby cooed, as she turned and walked out of the park, looking for her next victim.