My breath came in harsh and ragged puffs. I cautiously peeked around the corner I hid behind and strained my eyes to see what was coming my way.
I jumped when the scream of crunching and twisting steel filled the ominous silence of the night.
I let out a low whimper of fear and slowly crept along the cold concrete wall. Sweat coated my brow and dripped from my chin and back. Gooseflesh covered my body. Tears of hopeless desperation strangled me, making my already wheezing lungs strain harder grasp gulps of air.
I straightened at the sound of footsteps creeping closer. A sob escaped, echoing down the dark alley. I quickly scrambled further down the alley-way and skidded to a sudden halt when I came to a crossroads.
My heart thundered inside my chest, and eyes darted around deciphering every shadow, narrowing in on every corner. I hesitated for a few precious seconds, trying to decide on which way lead me to freedom; but when the sound of scraping metal sounded from behind me. Without another moment of hesitation, I turned right and sprinted down the dark alley.
An abrupt thought of me dying almost made me freeze in place and scream in denial, but I pushed further on, barrelling down the alley-way without slowing down. But my determination was short lived when I saw the brick wall blocking my exit. I sagged in defeat and quickly scanned the area for a weapon to use.
My eyes fell on a sharp, rusted shard of metal. I swiped it up from the ground, gripped it tightly and put my back against the wall and waited for the footsteps to get closer.
My hands were slippery with sweat, making the shard difficult to hold on to.
I straightened my shoulders when I saw a shadow at the mouth of the alley-way.
There was a flash of silver then a muted pop. I instinctually ducked. But it was too late; darkness took me within its grasp. I tried to fight but it was moot.
I died with hatred singing inside my unmoving heart.
I ducked under the crime scene tape and slowly made me way toward the victim and forensic investigator. I heaved a sigh of disgust and disappointment at the sight of the young female lying cold and lifeless on the alley-way pavement.
“What have you got Shawn?” I asked in an empty tone.
Shawn Harrison has been a forensic investigator longer than my whole career. He’s in his mid to late forties, with a protruding beer belly, and a kind heart despite his lifeless job.
I stopped beside him as he crouched down beside the female with disgust etched into his features.
He sighed and raised his head to look up at me.
“Single shot to the forehead. Victims’ name is Nora Webber, eighteen years old. But what the sickest thing about this crime is that the bastard wasn’t finished with her when she died, in fact it looks as if he prefers them dead and unmoving so he doesn’t have to worry about them struggling.” Shawn spat out in disgust.
I ground my teeth together and fought the violent tide of anger beginning to form inside of me.
I knelt down and not able to stomach the sight of her lifeless gaze staring out into the night, I gently closed her eyes and sat back with a lump in my throat at the look of helplessness forever imprinted into her eyes, even in her violent death her eyes still held a faint hint of life.
I abruptly jumped when Shawn suddenly from beside me.
“Looks like she was getting prepared to fight back, she chose a reasonable weapon too.” He bent over and carefully pried said weapon from her fist. He shone a flashlight on it and examined it intently.
“Looks to be a broken piece of rusted metal, maybe what used to be a pole of some sort.” He put down the rusted shard and studied her hand. “It’s cut into her hand pretty deeply. I’d say, if had survived this, she would have needed a tetanus shot. Poor thing didn’t know what to expect.” Shawn said gruffly.
I cleared my throat and got to my feet and walked back toward my car. I started the engine and drove away as fast as I could.
I watched the girl sashay around, swinging her hips seductively and flirting with anyone that she stumbled upon.
She laughed at something her friend said and I felt my own laughter bubbling up in response.
But I didn’t share her laughter, nor do I laugh out of attraction, no, my laughter is out of mockery.
Soon she will be mine to toy with, mine to do with as I please.
The last moments of her life will be mine.
I will bathe in her pain, and anguish, her fear and desperation.
And laugh at her attempts to fight.
And the final light that will soon shine bright in her eyes?