sLaughter

When Madeline saw the look in Andy’s face, she was not sure whether or not to be frightened, or excited. The glint in his eyes was far darker than that of any person she’d ever had contact with before; it was a look to rival her own, when she was angry with someone or something. She knew that any truly sane person would have been frightened, running away from him, trying to get away with their life. But Madeline found herself drawn to Andy; like the proverbial moth to the flame. Andy was the flame that Madeline was drawn to. She didn’t know what it was about him; she just simply found herself attracted to him.

In all her twenty-four years of life, Madeline had never been involved with a man. She had grown up hating men; her father was the inspiration behind that. He had never physically beaten Madeline when she’d lived with her parents; nor had he ever emotionally abused her, either. In fact, if Madeline were completely honest with herself, most girls would have loved having her father as theirs. He was lenient on curfew, never raised his voice, and was gone all the time to business trips and hosting lavish parties with his doctor and lawyer friends. Her mother, too, had been normal; never abusive, but rather far too supportive of Madeline. They’d doted on her, meeting her every whim, and it had angered Madeline far more than was normal. She hated feeling like that; like she was the center of the universe. It was a shallow feeling, and Madeline truly hated it. It made her feel vulnerable; open to all the pain of the world. And so, she’d hated her parents. She’d grown up wishing they would die, so that she could go to an orphanage, only to become invisible. It had been the only thing that Madeline had wanted growing up that her parents had not given her.

“Are you afraid, Madeline? It’s quite okay to be afraid, you know. Most women are, when they see my true side. But you’re not most women, are you, Madeline?” Andy’s voice brought her back to the present, and Madeline met Andy’s eyes with her own. She involuntarily shivered, but she realized that it was not from fear, but rather anticipation of what Andy might try to do.

“No,” She finally said, the word slow and deliberate. “Do I look like a woman who becomes afraid of men easily, Andy?”

Andy laughed, before turning back to look at the bleak, rain-drenched city, playing with the blade of the steak knife with his hand. Their dinner sat on the dining room table, completely forgotten, and Madeline walked over to Andy, watching the city with him.

“So, now that I have answered your question, Madeline, it is only fair that you answer mine in return.”

“A partner in crime, you say?” Madeline asked him, pondering it for a moment. She had always wondered what it would be like to murder for the sheer sport of it. Not because she was a lover jilted, or an angry soul. But because she wanted to see, even if just once, someone’s soul leave their eyes as she became the one to take their very life away from them, sending it to wherever those lost, dead souls went to after they were relieved of their earthly bodies. “I must admit, it does sound a bit romantic. A bit like Elizabeth herself, don’t you think, Andy?”

“No, not like Elizabeth. Elizabeth was nowhere near as beautiful as you, my lady.” Andy said. “Perhaps more like Bonnie and Clyde?”

Madeline laughed, before shaking her head. “No; that couple is far too overrated, and far too cliché. I have an idea, Andy,” She told him, smiling.

“And what would that idea be?” He asked her, turning to face her, a smile on his face as he studied her face intently. It was now her turn to look almost psychotic, and he found it beautiful. He was quite sure that he had stumbled upon a rare find when he’d approached Madeline Tremayne at the site of his most recent victim’s crime scene.

“My idea is that we come up with our own story. Something unlike anything history has ever seen; think about it, Andy. A mix of Jack and Elizabeth. What a perfect pair those two would have made, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Andy said to her, the glint returning to his eyes, sweat forming on his brow as he thought about it. “A perfect pair, indeed. Two of the finest serial killers in history.”

“Then, I must say that I would indeed enjoy being your partner in crime.” She smiled at him. Andy smiled at her, nodding, before suddenly dragging the knife across the palm of his hand, creating a deep gash in the center of his palm.

“Hold out your hand for me, Madeline,” He requested, the glint returning to his eyes. She did so; not out of fear, but out of anticipation. She’d always enjoyed pain. Especially when the pain was visible, in the form of perfect blood, dripping down her white porcelain skin.

She held out her hand towards Andy, and he took it in his own, uninjured hand. His touch was rough; he had definitely not led a pampered life. The calluses on his hand sent a shiver down Madeline’s spine. He dragged the steak knife’s tip down her palm as well. The gash stayed closed for a few seconds, before the pressure of blood rising through the cut’s opening began to force the beautiful red substance through, creating a pool of it in the center of her hand. Andy held his hand over her own, and laced their fingers together, allowing their blood to mix.

“We’ve created a bond, Madeline. There’s no going back on a blood deal.” He whispered to her. She nodded, unable to form words with her mouth. The clock chimed, and Andy looked up.

“It’s late,” She told him. “The doorman will get suspicious if you stay up here any longer.”

“Agreed, my lady.” Andy said to her, bowing with the same courtesy as a London gentleman may have done to a fair lady in the 1800s. Madeline smiled; men like Andy were few and far between.

“When will I see you next?” She asked, hoping not to sound too eager. He smiled at her, before leaning in to kiss her lips with a peck.

“Whenever I decide that we shall have a bit of fun.” He said, a smile on his face as he walked towards the door of her penthouse suite. “Until then, goodbye, Madeline.”

“Goodbye, Andy.” She said, her voice blissful as he opened the door and left, closing it with a small click.

As Andy left the apartment, Madeline walked over to the door, shutting the lock, and then walked into the dining room, seeing the rest of their dinner sitting upon the table’s surface. She had forgotten that they had not finished eating, but she herself was no longer hungry. She cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen, and then walked to her bathroom, preparing herself for her nightly shower. When she was done there, she found that thoughts of Andy had still not left her mind. His face was burned into her memory; she couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was beautiful, in every way imaginable.

For the first night that she could remember, Madeline walked to her bedroom with a smile on her face, closing the blood-red curtains with both hands dramatically, as it may have been done in a 1980s vampire movie, and pushed the blankets down on her bed, sliding between the silky sheets. She imagined Andy’s touch on her, and fell asleep, thoughts of him floating through her dreams.

-x-

“Not I, Madeline. Sweet, sweet, Madeline.” Oliver whispered, his voice hoarse with lustful want. Madeline gasped, caught by surprise, and immediately threw the blankets off of herself, jumping out of the bed.

“Oliver, what in the fuck are you doing in my apartment?” She demanded. She wasn’t so much scared as she was angry. No, she thought to herself. She was not scared at all. She was only very angry.

“’Tis only fer yeh, my sweet Madeline,” Oliver said, crawling over the bed towards where she stood. “I thou’ to myself, ‘she deserves be’er than that bloody man,’ when I saw him come with yeh, Madeline. He’s not the right type for a woman like yerself.”

“Oliver, get out. Before I decide to call police.” She threatened him, walking steadily backwards towards the antique desk she had positioned on the back side of the wall. In the drawer there was a knife; a knife she kept there not for protection, but rather because she simply liked the way it looked in the glossy interior of the desk. She opened the drawer, and pulled the knife out. She had no doubts that it would scare the doorman off.

“Yeh don’t really think I’m afraid of a wee knife, do yeh, Madeline? I’ve don’ want to hurt yeh. I just want to show yeh ‘ow much I love yeh.”

“You don’t love me, Oliver,” She told him. “No one does, and no one will.”

“Oh, but yeh don’t know what yer sayin’, Madeline.” Oliver told her. “I think about yeh, every night. Yeh…Yeh haunt my dreams. Yeh make me want you so much, Madeline. Stop bein’ a tease; I know yeh want me.”

It happened so quickly that Madeline wasn’t aware that she had stabbed him until he fell onto the floor beneath her, his brown eyes looking up at hers, lifeless. She gasped to herself; not in horror that she had fatally stabbed the man, but rather because she had felt such a rush when he’d thrown himself towards the knife. She fell to her knees, beside him, studying his face curiously. Already, his eyes were glazed over with death; he had been quick to die. The blood from the stab wound was beginning to stain his pale white flesh with the color of it. There was a knock on the door, causing Madeline to jump slightly, before she regained her composure. Surely no one suspected anything yet? He had been quiet to die. And in the event that someone did suspect, she could merely write it off as self defense. He was nearly naked, and had invited himself into her apartment. She grabbed her robe off of the door, and made her way to the front door, peeking through the peephole. She saw no one, but answered the door anyway.

“Hello?” She asked quietly into the small hallway. The second she called out, Andy stepped from behind the wall, and smiled at her.

“So, how does it feel?” He asked her. She gave him a curious look; how did he know already that she had killed Oliver?

“It feels fantastic,” She breathed. He smiled at her and nodded. She stepped aside, allowing Andy into her home, and led him to her bedroom, where Oliver was lying, his blood beginning to stop.

“Only one stab,” He tsk tsked. “I really must show you the fun way to do things, Madeline.”

“We’ve got plenty of time for that.” She told him. He nodded, before smiling at her.

“In the mean time, call the police.” He suggested. “The man chose a horrible place for his murder; there is no way to cover up the stench of blood on wood. Your downstairs neighbors will no doubt have complaints about a strange smell within weeks, if you do not report his death. Call; tell them exactly the truth of what he did. Don’t mention, of course, the thrill that you got taking his life. Make it look as though you’ve been crying.”

She nodded, liking how he was talking. Andy was a true genius. She then thought for a minute, and then looked at him, confusion on his face.

“But what will we say about why you’re here?”

He smiled at her, before beginning to unbutton his shirt. He tossed it onto the floor, and then tousled his dark hair, making it look as though he had just crawled out of bed.

“That we were having an intimate moment. As beautiful as you are, Madeline, the police will have no doubts of that.”

She smiled at him, before walking past Andy gracefully, forcing herself not to watch him as he removed his pants, leaving him clad in only his boxers. She walked into the living room, grabbing the cordless phone before dialing 911.

“Hello? I…I’d…I’d like to r-report an at—attempted rape.” She spoke into the phone, making herself sound as though she’d been crying, just as Andy had directed her to do. She turned and looked at him, a grin on her face. He gave her the thumbs up sign, before walking into the living room to join her. Madeline could no longer help her eyes traveling over his chest; he was built nicely, with a toned chest and muscular arms. She gave the 911 operator her address, and then hung up the phone with reassurance that police would be there in minutes only.

“Well?” She asked him. “How’d I do?”

“Very nice,” He said to her, pecking her lips, as though it were a reward. “Very nice, indeed. You need to appear as though you’ve been crying. Rub at your eyes hard until they get here. That will be enough.”

She nodded, and did as he asked, while Andy stood and watched. When the knock came on the door, she stopped, and he smiled as he whispered to her.

“It’s go time.”