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Description
Prologue
       There she is. His prey. The girl he'd been tracking for the past few days. She walks down the sidewalk, whistling faintly, the slightest spring in her step. A gym bag swings in time with her step, rustling quietly with its contents. Her blonde hair delicately tickles the base of her neck in its ponytail. Enticing, so enticing… No! Control, keep control! You can enjoy her beauty after her death! Taking a deep breath, the hunter follows her, walking parallel to the target and fingering the switchblade in his pocket. Twenty yards and closing. So close, so close… Her gaze flickers to him, even from here he can see the emerald green spheres of life. Well, for now. He pauses, pretending to consult his phone, then looks around and crosses the street. In two hundred feet she will turn into an alley, and then he will capture and kill her. And after that? Well, the alley would be deserted for another two hours. Plenty of time. He smiles as a familiar fire builds inside of him. Once he was finished, then… Well, he would have to take the body back to his boss, now wouldn't he? Who knew what he'd do with it then, but honestly, who cared? She'd be dead-- not as if she could complain. Next time her stupid father would learn some respect!

        His foot lands on a fallen tree branch, snapping it loudly. He curses to himself as she glances around, spotting him behind her. Her posture changes; the relaxed back tensed and straightened, the hand resting on the gym bag clenched. She senses the danger, right as he senses her fear. But, she keeps walking, shaking her head. He smiles to himself again and followed, pausing when she turned into the alley. He listens to her footsteps, hearing the faint pause, then a relieved chuckle. She continues walking, her steps regaining their normal carefree cadence. Now now now!! Silently he stalks up behind her. So close… Soclosesoclosesoclose! She suddenly turns, her eyes widening as she sees him. Her arm draws back slightly, the fist clenching, but she's too late. With a snarl he leaps forward. He strikes her in the abdomen before she can react or scream. She doubles over as the breath is knocked from her body. He grabs her, wrapping his hand around her mouth as the other snakes round her arms and waist. An unbreakable hold that even an unsubdued opponent can't free herself from.

      "Hello, my lovely girl. Your father should have listened when Tony told him to pay up." She struggles furiously, but he is much stronger than she is. "Yes, dear Christine, you know the dealings of my family. Now, I'm sorry to say that the penalty's even harsher now." She bites his hand, but he doesn't react. Long hours of training had given him the ability to mute whatever pain he felt. "Sorry, my precious beauty, but now you're part of the payment." He strikes her in the throat, silencing her as he draws the switchblade from his pocket and flips it open with a sadistic grin.

Three Weeks Later

        I sat on my bead, staring at the picture in my hands, as I had for the past week. My eyes burned, all the tears spent a long time ago. My body shuddered with dry sobs, every part of me aching.
        "Chris…" I whispered, looking at the smiling blonde in the photo, her arm slung around a shorter girl whose strands of short, dark red hair intermingled with the longer threads of gold.

Why her?
Why was she murdered?!

        Two weeks ago her body, naked and disfigured, in a plain box to her house. Her wide, emerald eyes were staring, the picture of terror. Her throat had been cut, but just enough to silence her. Her lungs were punctured by two sharp stabs between her ribs, drowning her in her own blood. The coroner estimated that it took her about twenty minutes to die, in which time she had been raped and tortured. I was only told this; I didn't see it firsthand. For that at least I'm luck that I can remember her as I saw her last: smiling, laughing, stumbling through her choreography in our theatre class, threatening to kick anyone's ass who chose to mess with us.

        Christine DuMont was my best friend.

        Really, she was my only true friend.

        And now she's dead.

         "Chris, I hope you are in a better place now." A quiet knock on my door made me jump.

         "Rose?" My mother softly called. "I have dinner for you."

         "I'm not hungry."

        "Rose, please, you haven't eaten all day."

        "I'm not hungry!" A quiet sigh.

        "Okay." She paused. "They will find who killed her, Rose. They will." Another pause. "And you have to go back to school tomorrow. You'll have Ren there to help you through the day, and you have your other friends." What other friends? All those backstabbing uncaring bitches? And Ren… I'd closed myself off from him when Christine died. He said he understood, being my boyfriend and all, but… Well, I don't know if I believed him.

        "Okay mom." I heard her set down a tray, then walk away. When I heard her steps fade, I quietly opened the door and grabbed the tray. Barbeque chicken and rice steamed on a porcelain plate, the strong scent filtering faintly through my clogged nose. My stomach grumbled. I was hungrier than I thought…

         After devouring the food, I flopped back onto my bed, looking at the picture again and sobbing once more. At some point I fell asleep, her smiling face the last thing I saw.

Description
Prologue
       There she is. His prey. The girl he'd been tracking for the past few days. She walks down the sidewalk, whistling faintly, the slightest spring in her step. A gym bag swings in time with her step, rustling quietly with its contents. Her blonde hair delicately tickles the base of her neck in its ponytail. Enticing, so enticing… No! Control, keep control! You can enjoy her beauty after her death! Taking a deep breath, the hunter follows her, walking parallel to the target and fingering the switchblade in his pocket. Twenty yards and closing. So close, so close… Her gaze flickers to him, even from here he can see the emerald green spheres of life. Well, for now. He pauses, pretending to consult his phone, then looks around and crosses the street. In two hundred feet she will turn into an alley, and then he will capture and kill her. And after that? Well, the alley would be deserted for another two hours. Plenty of time. He smiles as a familiar fire builds inside of him. Once he was finished, then… Well, he would have to take the body back to his boss, now wouldn't he? Who knew what he'd do with it then, but honestly, who cared? She'd be dead-- not as if she could complain. Next time her stupid father would learn some respect!

        His foot lands on a fallen tree branch, snapping it loudly. He curses to himself as she glances around, spotting him behind her. Her posture changes; the relaxed back tensed and straightened, the hand resting on the gym bag clenched. She senses the danger, right as he senses her fear. But, she keeps walking, shaking her head. He smiles to himself again and followed, pausing when she turned into the alley. He listens to her footsteps, hearing the faint pause, then a relieved chuckle. She continues walking, her steps regaining their normal carefree cadence. Now now now!! Silently he stalks up behind her. So close… Soclosesoclosesoclose! She suddenly turns, her eyes widening as she sees him. Her arm draws back slightly, the fist clenching, but she's too late. With a snarl he leaps forward. He strikes her in the abdomen before she can react or scream. She doubles over as the breath is knocked from her body. He grabs her, wrapping his hand around her mouth as the other snakes round her arms and waist. An unbreakable hold that even an unsubdued opponent can't free herself from.

      "Hello, my lovely girl. Your father should have listened when Tony told him to pay up." She struggles furiously, but he is much stronger than she is. "Yes, dear Christine, you know the dealings of my family. Now, I'm sorry to say that the penalty's even harsher now." She bites his hand, but he doesn't react. Long hours of training had given him the ability to mute whatever pain he felt. "Sorry, my precious beauty, but now you're part of the payment." He strikes her in the throat, silencing her as he draws the switchblade from his pocket and flips it open with a sadistic grin.

Three Weeks Later

        I sat on my bead, staring at the picture in my hands, as I had for the past week. My eyes burned, all the tears spent a long time ago. My body shuddered with dry sobs, every part of me aching.
        "Chris…" I whispered, looking at the smiling blonde in the photo, her arm slung around a shorter girl whose strands of short, dark red hair intermingled with the longer threads of gold.

Why her?
Why was she murdered?!

        Two weeks ago her body, naked and disfigured, in a plain box to her house. Her wide, emerald eyes were staring, the picture of terror. Her throat had been cut, but just enough to silence her. Her lungs were punctured by two sharp stabs between her ribs, drowning her in her own blood. The coroner estimated that it took her about twenty minutes to die, in which time she had been raped and tortured. I was only told this; I didn't see it firsthand. For that at least I'm luck that I can remember her as I saw her last: smiling, laughing, stumbling through her choreography in our theatre class, threatening to kick anyone's ass who chose to mess with us.

        Christine DuMont was my best friend.

        Really, she was my only true friend.

        And now she's dead.

         "Chris, I hope you are in a better place now." A quiet knock on my door made me jump.

         "Rose?" My mother softly called. "I have dinner for you."

         "I'm not hungry."

        "Rose, please, you haven't eaten all day."

        "I'm not hungry!" A quiet sigh.

        "Okay." She paused. "They will find who killed her, Rose. They will." Another pause. "And you have to go back to school tomorrow. You'll have Ren there to help you through the day, and you have your other friends." What other friends? All those backstabbing uncaring bitches? And Ren… I'd closed myself off from him when Christine died. He said he understood, being my boyfriend and all, but… Well, I don't know if I believed him.

        "Okay mom." I heard her set down a tray, then walk away. When I heard her steps fade, I quietly opened the door and grabbed the tray. Barbeque chicken and rice steamed on a porcelain plate, the strong scent filtering faintly through my clogged nose. My stomach grumbled. I was hungrier than I thought…

         After devouring the food, I flopped back onto my bed, looking at the picture again and sobbing once more. At some point I fell asleep, her smiling face the last thing I saw.