WP Serial Killer

[WP] A serial killer who wishes to terrorise a town. However none of their victims stay dead for long and don’t seem to remember them being killed. In this town lives a serial necromancer who unbeknownst to the serial killer is ressurecting every victim. [by Randomcurry]

“You attempt to make it so we can’t have nice things, I make it so people can have all the nice things and more.”

Beth waves her finger at me. Long, black painted nails dancing in front of my vision. Her pale skin shining beneath the glow of the lamp.

“Could you at least let me finish first?” I glance down at the begging, pleading, half dead woman beneath me. Her brown hair sticking to the holes in her chest. “I mean I get it, you’ve made it your lifes mission to make my lifes mission pointless but can I at least god damn finish?”

I plunge the knife into my victim’s neck, twist it and yank it out. Blood spurts all over the sidewalk. I let out a sigh, the sigh groans into a scream, and I sink my head into my chest.

“You see, you wouldn’t even let her keep her nice coat clean. What a mess.”

I glare up at Beth. I loved her once. Loved that she was blessed with the ability to bring a voice back to those thought long dead, adored that she was grateful for life in all its forms. A mosquito prolonging its life by sucking out ours, a maggot wriggling on the floor, a small bud peeking its colourful face through dry dirt. She appreciated it all. But it was more than that.

“You think you’re better than me,” I huff out as I lift my aching bones upright and sweep a gloved hand through my short blonde hair. “You think you’re more worthy but you’re just as bad as me.”

She was already kneeling down, pouring her thick purple bubbling substance from its vial into my victim’s throat.

“It’s all about control in the end,” I continue, wiping my knife clean. “You yearn for it as desperately as I do, it just manifests in a different manner.”

I kick my worn shoes against the ground, little splashes of water diving towards the woman on the floor.

“You can think that all you like,” Beth adjusts the bottle cap and tucks the vial back into her jacket pocket. “And I’ll continue to think you just like having me around.”

I laugh. A deep throaty croak that partially wants to stay put in my throat.

“You follow me,” I say.

“You give me reason to,” she replies.

We study each other for a moment longer. I killed her once, and she brought me back to life long before that. We are a cycle, but not one that could work together in the bedroom. Instead we gravitate towards one another then push and pull until we nearly spark, until we sore through each other’s orbits again.

“Tomorrow,” I mutter, turning away from her and into the shadows.

I hear her giggle, and glance over my shoulder to see she remains in the light.

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