Give Me Your Heart

The interrogation was nothing more than the obvious questions which
consisted of our alibis – which both checked out, eventually.

“What time did you arrive home to your apartment, Mr. Valentine?”

“I would say about 3:04 PM.”

“Miss Roux, when did you receive the phone call?”

“Somewhere between 3:15 and 3:20, sir.”

Officer Mosley paused with his questioning, and flipped smoothly
through his notebook. He glanced at me through the pages. He was
suspicious. I grinned.

“Well, Darren. That's quite a time interval, no?” he inquired. He
wanted real answers.

I produced a grim smile. “Officer, there was a woman brutally
murdered in my apartment. I think I deserved some time to take
that in, no?” I mocked.

take in the beautiful murder scene

Mosley murmured in reply. “I would think someone would dial 911
first, don't you?”

Sylvia watched both of our countenances with great curiosity.

I leaned forward. “Not always. What good would the police have
sufficed? She was already dead.”

He slammed his palms on the desk. “Exactly! A murder is not
something to be taken lately – and you called her?!”

I drummed my fingertips on the desk mockingly. “Officer, are you
accusing me of something?”

“Do you have something to be accused of?”

Sylvia suddenly glared at Mosley.

“Look, Officer, I appreciate all your help trying to find who killed
that poor girl, but I can assure you Darren had nothing to do with
it,” she snapped.

she's so innocent

No, I don't think she is what she seems.

Mosley sighed. “Miss, this man is basically our only suspect.”

“Bullshit. There are tons of sick people out there that could have
committed this crime!” she exclaimed. “I know Darren; he's a nice
person who would never murder anyone.”

All these words were lies unbeknown to her. The mere thought of this
was making me giddy with childish delight. I wanted to laugh out loud;
I could barely contained myself. I, instead, put on a meek smile for
Sylvia.

They conversed for awhile longer before Sylvia wrapped her small hand
around my upper arm and hoisted me to my feet, much to my surprise. I
followed her with ease as she nearly stomped through the police
station. We were driven here by the Officer, so I would have to walk
several blocks to my apartment.

Sylvia blew out a breath. “Sorry. That was irrational.”

I chuckled. “It's all right.”

“I know you're a good man. You have no motive to kill anyone; I don't
know why they don't think so,” she explained.

Sylvia ran a hand through her wavy blonde hair. Tendrils fell over
her face as she brushed them behind her ear. She gave me a
breathtaking smile. I was more focused on the main, pulsating vein in
her neck full of her sweet, succulent blood. The perfume her blood
gave off was enough for any high.

take her to an alley she won't question anything

A headache started to throb against the inner walls of my cranium. It
has been less than a day – five hours, even – and I needed more blood
to quench our ache.

I clenched my eyes tight for two moments and started to walk off away
from Sylvia. But a hand grabbed my forearm, preventing me from
leaving.

I looked over my shoulder to come face to face with Sylvia. She
smiled that smile of hers and dropped my arm.

“You can't go back to your apartment, yet, remember? It is a crime
scene,” she reminded me. Her voice was tantalizingly sweet.

she was dominic's lover i bet he tortured her with all sorts of
knives i bet she still has the scars

bring up the past for her darren

I glanced at her arms – as smooth as ivory. Ivory always looks good
with blood's scarlet hue. Her skin would look exceptionally beautiful.
I longed to spill her blood over her perfect skin, to have the
rivulets follow every curve of her body.

I stared at her. “No, no, I wouldn't want to impose. I have other
means of getting shelter.”

“No, you don't. If you did, you could afford a better apartment than
the shitty one you have now,” she retorted, crossing her arms over her
chest.

“...It's not shitty,” I muttered.

“Look, Darren, I'm asking you as a friend – just stay with me until
they clean up your place,” Sylvia pleaded.

I nearly growled. There's that ugly word again. Friend. What
gave her the right to consider me a friend? How could I ever harbour
any feelings of compassion that is required? She should be brutally
murdered for even sheltering such asinine thoughts in her mind.

“All right, fine. You'll regret it,” I concluded.

She clapped her hands together once. “Why? It'll be like a sleepover!”

I smiled grimly.

oh this will be our chance

**

Sylvia and I walked the seven blocks to get to her house. Sylvia
owned an actual house, unlike my grungy apartment. I was not ecstatic
about residing here for the time being, but maybe this will be my
chance to murder the one human being that I've haboured bloodlust for
for quite some time.

After she closed the door, we sat on the couch in a comfortable
silence. We avoided the other's gaze until we had something to say. I
could tell she was in  deep thought about something – me, perhaps?

“What is on your mind?” I inquired, leaning against the back of the couch.

She shrugged and mirrored my actions. “Do you want something to eat?”

I shook my head. “Typical female.”

“What?” Sylvia looked at me sharply.

“Females always ask their guest if they need anything, whether it be
food or drink,” I said simply, shrugging my shoulders as if I hadn't
directly insulted her.

“Typical male for refusing.”

“Touché.”

She laughed lightly.

I abhorred how close I was getting to this girl. I needed desperately
to find a way out of this situation. No matter what I told myself, I
detested this girl. Of course I did. She was another pretty face in
the ocean of prostitutes that polluted the Earth with their cheap
smiles and engineered attributes.

I stood up stiffly and turned to walk away. This time, Sylvia halted me with her voice.

“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

“Out,” I murmured.

She hesitated. “Well, you know, be careful.”

“Don't need to,” I replied haughtily.

Sylvia frowned. “Someone killed a girl in your apartment. Don't you think you're a target?”

I turned around to face her. “Don't you think you are?”

With that, I exited her house.

**

Darkness was beginning to rise from behind the trees by the time I arrived in the park. No couples were present, as it was very bleak outside. People were tucked away in their houses for the night.

pick someone at random if they were outside right now they don't deserve to live

My head began to pound uncomfortably, and my blood began to stir. My heart rate was escalating at an alarming pace, charged with a large amount of adrenaline.

I ventured out of the park and well into the bad and nasty part of town.

Soon enough, I was swimming within a sea of cheap perfume and the bitter stench of whiskey. Prostitutes swarmed in flocks trying to make their living for the night. My blood boiled painfully.

One girl approached me void of caution. “Hey.”

“Hello,” I bade her politely.

“Twenty bucks – I'll suck your cock,.” she offered, falling into step with me.

I acted like I was contemplating her repugnant offer. I thought of all the fun I could have with this girl. All the blood I'd be able to shed tonight, all the entrails I could strew.

My mind swirled in anticipation.

“All right, follow me,” I agreed, holding my hand out to her.

Her eye sparkled in the evening's dim light at the thought of getting paid tonight, which, obviously, was money she wouldn't be getting. She took my hand eagerly, but tried to kiss me in such a way, I could tell she was not a girl much older than eighteen, trying out a new job.

As we walked to where I would be staying tonight, she would not cease her chatter. Her hands roamed all over my chest, which made my mind reel in disgust and fury.

I figured Sylvia had had a hard day, and she was already asleep. I could not see any lights on in the living room, or any room for that matter. I led my victim in through the garage. I closed the garage door manually, as not to make too much noise.

The instant I closed the door, she jumped all over me, attempting to press her lips against any part of my exposed skin she could.

I pushed her away angrily. “Ah, ah, ah. Let's not be too hasty, now.”

She held her hand out. “Show me the money, .”

I laughed. “Did you really take me as the type of man to go for a girl like you?”

She was fuming. “You bastard … You better hand me the money right now .. or I'll – I'll”

“You'll what?” I taunted.

“I'll scream!”

I chuckled as my eyes widened in mock terror. “Oh, no, don't do that!”

She smiled smugly. “You can't do anything about it. You can't lay a finger on me.”

wanna bet

“Want a bet?” I challenged.

She opened her mouth, but I was quicker. I grabbed her around the stomach and held her jaw together. She reeked of diseases.

“You need to bite your tongue, little girl,” I hissed, pressing her cheeks together. She was trying her hardest to scream through her teeth.

I released her jaw a fraction of an inch, and she opened her mouth very wide, preparing for the best scream she could muster, but I quickly closed her mouth brutally. Within seconds, blood penetrated the crease of her lips, and half of her tongue tumbled out of her mouth.

“Oops,” I concluded.

I dragged the girl over to a shelf which held a bunch of household tools. I plucked a sharp pair of pliers from a bracket and showed them to the whimpering girl.

“See these?” I asked her, turning the pliers side to side.

She nodded slowly.

“Do you know how much damage I could inflict with these?”

She widened her eyes and struggled against my hands in vain. She started screaming through my hand.

“No? Well, let's find out!”

I raised the tool to her stomach – her shirt was already high enough that I could see her whole stomach. I leveled the pliers with her navel for a few seconds until I had her full attention. She looked up at me with a pleading look in her eyes, begging to let her go. I just smirked.

I prodded her navel with one side of the extended pliers. I thrust the points of the tool through the outside of her navel, and squeezed the foam handles together. I yanked the tool toward myself and was rewarded with blood doused skin falling around our feet.

“While we let that wound bleed out, how about we try for another one?” I suggested.

She remained silent as a few tears dribbled down her cheeks. Her eyes confirmed she thought she deserved it. Smart girl.

I dug around her forearm for a few minutes, snipping any veins that I came across. Her arms were a mutilated and bloody ribbon by the time I was done with it. The useless muscles of her arms were present and showed themselves off with great vanity. The bone shone through the muscles brightly. Blood flowed freely from the orifices, eagerly sucking in as much oxygen as it could.

The girl sobbed silently as she bore her beatings. I laughed.

I became disheartened at the fact I couldn't hear her screams, although I would imagine her screams were as disappointing as her appearance. I also could not let her blood touch my skin or clothes, as I was in a place that was not my home.

As one final wound, I took my makeshift weapon, extended the metal, and clipped it on the skin above the pulsating vein in her neck. I clamped down enough to tear that skin, and ripped it from her neck. A spray of blood shot out and splattered my face. I ducked out of the way and unclasped my hand from her mouth. I watched her fall to the ground and struggle to keep her blood inside the vein.

When the living girl was nothing more than a corpse, I cringed in disgust her cosmetic products stuck to my hand. I promptly wiped my hand on her skirt, along with the tool.

I surveyed myself to make sure no other blood remained on my skin or clothes, other than the blood I had licked off my face earlier.

I smirked at the scene, and I left the garage quickly.

**

Russell Barker Mental Institute was a twenty minute walk from Sylvia's house. I would be seeking advice from the smartest man in the world. I was quite nervous.

But there I stood, at the front desk of the institute. It reminded me vaguely of an office building, but it was far from that. The walls were a dark turquoise colour that contradicted the blasé atmosphere.

“Hi,” I greeted the man at the front desk quietly.

He smiled. “What can I do fer ya, son?”

“Can you please tell me what room Dominic Flanagan is in?”

The tiny, balding man seemed shocked. “This isn't a hotel, kid. This is a insane asylum for the insane.”

“I know,” I answered. “But I really need to talk to him.”

He eyed me suspiciously. “What fer?” he asked in his Southern accent.

“A death has occurred in his family, and I was told to send him the message,” I lied smoothly.

“A death? We have no record of his havin' a fam'ly anywhere,” he contemplated his last words. “Except for a wife.”

I held my shock safely within my mind.

“Oh, yes, he does not talk about his family,” I persuaded, keeping careful eye contact with this man.

He looked torn. “Well … Try to be quick 'bout it. We don' want reporters snoopin' 'round fer any news. Yer not a reporter, are ya, son?”

I shook my head.

“He is in cell 84 in the West wing,” the man said, and waved me off while he went back to typing.

I entered the west wing, and went down the hallway that said 'Rooms 81-85'. I swallowed nervously as I stood outside of his room. I knocked swiftly once, and when he didn't answer, I realized he could already be asleep.

Then, I heard: “Come in.”

I opened the door, and Dominic was sitting on his bed with his arms resting on his knees.

He looked at me oddly. “I knew it wasn't a doctor at my door – they never knock.”

I was standing still.

“Who are you?” he asked, sitting up straight.

“Um,” I started, ?I'm Darren.”

He nodded, and he signaled me to continue.

“I wanted some advice, and I, uh, I just thought you were the best person to ask … “ I trailed off, nervously rubbing my hands together.

He nodded again. “You realize I have killed people. I've killed girls.”

“I have, too,” I blurted, then covered my mouth with my hand.

Dominic laughed. “Oh, well, then. What advice do you need?”

“I – I just wanted to talk about … Your methods,” I mumbled.

He scratched his chin, “Hmm. Pull up a chair, Darren.”

I scurried to get a wooden chair from across the tiny room, and I moved it in front of Dominic.

“So you say you have killed before?” he asked with a smile.

I nodded.

“How many?”

I started to count on my fingers. “Ten. Wait … Eleven. I killed a prostitute before I came here.”

Dominic started laughing. “A prostitute, huh?”

I nodded.

“Ohh. I believe I know who you are,” he mused, grinning.

I felt my own lips turn up in a proud smile that my idol knows who I am.

“You are the killer they're calling 'my copycat',” he concluded, smirking at me.

I blushed and turned my head to the ground.

“Very nice copycat work, they say, too,” he assured me. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

I smiled. “I'm only keeping your murders prolonged.”

“Good, good.”

“Dominic, what is your motivation for your murders?” I asked meekly.

He shrugged. “Not much to say about my motivation. Sometimes, I get these anger spells. Sometimes I just wanna kill. Do you like the warm splash of blood on your face?”

I nodded vigorously.

“Good,” he praised. “Tell me about your motive.”

“Love,” I answered simply,

He smiled. “Ah, you're in love with a girl, I see. Do you feel the need to protect her?”

I cringed in disgust. I did not love anyone. My heart is incapable of the simply human emotion. I couldn't even love myself.

“I don't love anyone,” I denied.

He frowned. “You don't love anyone? Is that possible?”

I nodded. “Of course it is. It's simple: I lack the human compulsion to love. It's a disgusting element of human nature.”

Dominic shook his head. “It's not that bad. Even I have been in love. I wanted to protect her with all my heart.”

Anger boiled through my veins. Why does Sylvia have to come up in every conversation? This man is my idol. I am the killer. Not her!

“Yeah, I know all about Sylvia,” I murmured bitterly.

“Sylvia? My wife's name was Verena,” he confirmed, still confused.

“You weren't engaged to a Sylvia?” I asked, probably more confused than Dominic was.

“No, I don't think I was. Why?” he asked. His eyes scanned my face, searching for answers neither of us had.

“Nothing important. What was Verena like?” I diverted his attention.

Dominic's eyes lit up with childish delight, but there was masked fear hidden deep behind every other emotion. “She – “

Dominic was rudely interrupted by the same small man from the front desk.

“Sir, I think you 'ave had enough time t'console Mr. Flanagan 'bout 'is relative's passing,” the man scolded.

Dominic sat there, staring blindly at the concrete walls that were strangely divergent from the entrance's walls. Dominic understood I had to lie in order to gain access back here.

“Yes, I have. Goodbye, Dominic.” I smiled at him.

He grinned and waved as I left his room. I would no doubt be back here soon. I had so much more to learn from my idol.

I found my way out without the man's help, and I walked the twenty minutes back to Sylvia's house. I had much to think about on my trip back. Did Sylvia lie about her relationship with Dominic? Was she ever in a relationship with him? Sylvia did not seem the time. Dominic was an intelligent, ingenious killer – albeit not crazy in the least. Sylvia was an innocent girl – how could Dominic have even wanted her around?

you would know darren

I growled and clenched my firsts until my knuckles pale. Five minutes after all my musings, I arrived at Sylvia's house.

I quietly opened the door, as it was very late into the evening. I turned the knob as it returned to its threshold to reduce the clacking noise. I stepped softly to the couch where I lied down and closed my eyes for the night, and I then smiled.

I left her body in the garage.