Figments of Imagination
* * *
and Kikuno had separated because of an argument. The
rest of their friends were looking for them. Chizuru and Eiichi were mocking
their boss and coworkers. And the rest of the world went on as usual.
Very few people thought about the murder that took place this morning. But back at the crime scene, things were going much slower. The murder was still unsolved. There were very few clues as to how or why she died. Hour after hour, people showed up at the scene and were questioned. Then they were sent away.
It was too bad everyone was attention to the scene and not towards the alley behind that scene. If anyone had noticed, if anyone bothered to take a look in the alley, they would have seen someone. They would have seen someone glaring down at them. They would have seen someone young but very violent and angry.
In short, they would have seen the killer.
Not that they would have thought he was a killer. He didn't even look like one. His face was youthful, his cheeks smooth, and his body small. But if they bothered to look into his eyes, they'd see something else. If they paid attention to his bottom lip twisting into a sneer, they'd realize he wasn't friendly.
And if they lived, they'd realize that they were wrong to cross paths with him.
Right now, he had been watching these people come in and out. Each person was shaped differently, of different gender, and of different ages. All of them looked weak to him. All of them were possible victims. All of them filled with blood. He loved blood. He *craved* it everyday.
The sweet taste of blood is enough to keep me awake at night. He thought, his soul moaning. It was hungry and he hadn't fed it in a while. It's all I need.
And it was. He didn't need love or happiness or any of those emotions. All those were worthless. Killing was the only good thing humans ever invented. Death was the sweetest feeling. The problem was that it was hard to come across. People died everyday but not always by his hand. In fact, this prostitute had been his victim in a long. He hated himself for taking so long to find sustenance.
Taking care of that woman had been easy. She was a spineless creature, screaming and crying instead of defending herself. It took only 15 seconds for him to run the knife across her throat. As soon as he did that, a thin line of red appeared and she collapsed to the ground. He didn't even need to check and see if she was dead. He knew it. Spineless people always died quickly.
A part of him wished he could find someone strong to kill. He wanted a worthy opponent, someone who'd die but wouldn't go down without a fight. A strong opponent was what he craved the most. Sadly, he hadn't run into anyone worthy of fighting against him. Most died with just a scream.
For now, he had to stick with the weak ones.
The fog surrounding the scene was starting to lift and he was still hungry. He was restless. And he wanted to kill. He wanted to rip out someone else's throat and gut some poor soul like a fish. He didn't feel satisfied until he smelled human blood. It always gave him a rush.
But he couldn't attack now. Every time he looked at the crowd, it got bigger. At first, there were five people. Then there were 10. Then 15. In one hour, 45 people had gathered at the crime scene. Currently, there were over a hundred. Many of them carried guns too. It wasn't that he couldn't take care of them, guns or not. But he knew authority when he saw it so he made a good decision not to kill at the moment. Too many people were at the scene. It wasn't a good time.
But I will kill again. He promised himself. I won't rest till I take another life.
He took one last look at the scene, turned around, and left.
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