The Blue Rose

10. Aster

TEN

ASTER

W hat am I doing?

I haven’t made it this far by not sticking to my rules. I made them for a reason. The moon is hanging low in the sky, and voices from the restaurant can be heard from the street. Inside I see a little family, a mother and father with their son and younger daughter. I stop to watch them through the window, wondering what my life would have been like if I had a sibling to play with growing up. Would I still be the person I am today? Would my siblings be like me? Would they have rules if they did?

After my parents got caught, I made the rules for myself that they didn’t follow. They loved to play with their lambs before the slaughter, touch, suck, fuck, all of it. They even brought some of their victims into the house before taking them to the barn. The barn that I had torn down, and built my shed in its place. After the first night I saw them kill that girl, they started to bring more victims around, men and women. Into the house for dinner and then to the barn for dessert. Every single thing they did, eventually got them caught. I don’t know the real reason behind how they were found, their files are locked tight, but I do know that I was never going to kill like them. Hence my rules, and it’s worked in my favor so far.

So why am I following a victim around? Defending her? Killing for her? Breaking not only one, but two rules for her. Allowing a man to taint my lamb slaughterhouse, and allowing myself to taste her. There is only one rule left to break, and I won’t break that one, she will never step foot into my home. She will never know about my rules, but I can’t help myself, there is something about her and when the time finally comes, I can’t wait to lay her on my table.

She is the first woman I have allowed myself to be with in a long time. I’m no virgin, but I don’t ever take my victims to bed. I’ve allowed myself the pleasures of being with a woman, but I prefer the pleasure of killing over sex. I have always felt that way, that was until I got a taste of my little lamb. She tasted like the fires of hell themselves, sinfully sweet and tempting, pulling me into the abyss of her forbidden cunt, drowning in flames I never want to escape. The very reason why she needs to die, I’ll treat her like I treat my other lambs, giving her what she desires after a night out, then I fulfill my own fantasies, putting her to sleep forever.

That image sends a pang to my chest, one I haven't felt before. Weird. I reach up, placing a hand over my heart, and I light up a cigarette. Happy to see that while I had my dessert, Tyler was still in his car waiting, giving me the opportunity to keep my earlier promise.

I never break my promises.

I stand in front of my car, several cars back from Tylers, in total darkness, the only light from the bud of my cigarette.

When I see Tyler exit his car, with a short, lithe redhead. She looks drunk, swaying back and forth, in her sky high heels and black mini dress, too short for this weather. It’s still warm during the day, but at night it’s cooler and most have a coat on. She’s wearing next to nothing, her intentions clear in her outfit. She laughs at something Tyler said to her, while he holds her up.

How can this fuck face go on another date? Although, this looks more like a booty call than a date. The person he was texting outside, must have been her, already lining up another date, because of his failed one. I’m happy his date ended horribly, but my jaw ticks as I step into my car, thinking that he could just discard my little lamb so easily.

My fingers tap on the steering wheel to the beat of “Undead” by Hollywood Undead . Breaking my first rule yet again has me drumming harder with every beat. This kill is more deserving than Gary. Tyler touched and tried to force himself on what’s mine , and for that, I will make his death slow and painful.

The stars start to become brighter, as the surrounding businesses, aside from a few, start to close and turn off their light. I pull out a pack of spearmint gum and start chewing, waiting for Tyler and his date to drive away. After what seems like forever, my gum having lost its flavor, I throw it out the window. A dark smile lighting my lips, as Tyler speeds out of the parking spot, onto the street, and I pursue, keeping my distance so he doesn’t catch onto being followed.

We drive for fifteen minutes before he pulls into a neighborhood, pulling in front of a house leaving the engine running. I kill the lights on my car and park it far enough where he can’t see me, but close enough I can see him.

Five minutes pass before the redhead gets out running into the house and then back down her driveway into his car. They speed off, and I follow them to a bar, in the more shady side of town, my favorite hunting ground. No lights, cameras, or witnesses. If people happen to see me leave with my victim they keep their mouths shut, they know the cardinal rule. Snitches get stitches. The things that happen here, even have the authorities avoiding it like the plague. So to see Tyler take the red head here, makes me wonder what nefarious things he has in store for her, not that I care.

I stay outside in my car, and wait for them to come out. When minutes turn to hours I grow bored, and take out the word search I keep in my middle console. When I’m watching my little lambs, learning their schedules, and seeing if they have any family or friends who would miss them. I spend that time in my car solving my word searches when I can’t be near them. They help calm me, help me clear my head and get into the right headspace to hunt. Finishing five pages, I look up and see them leaving the bar. I kept a tail on him, and now here we are at his house.

They walk up the driveway, and I see the girl curling over herself, hand over her mouth, looking like she’s about to throw up. A second later, her hand leaves her mouth and she vomits all over Tyler. He yells something, I’m too far away to hear, or read his lips, parked across the street, a couple houses down, hidden under the hanging branches of a tree. He pushes her down, and stomps into his house leaving her there sick and crying on the cold cement.

“Fucking douche,” I mutter. While waiting, I pull out my phone and text Serena good night and put it back in the cup holder and wait for the redhead to leave.

Ten minutes pass and a car pulls up; probably an Uber. The red head gets in, she leaves crying and covered in vomit. I wait another ten minutes for good measure, making sure there are no cameras anywhere. If there’s one thing I will take from my parents training, is always being vigilant when hunting and making sure there are never any cameras, and if there are, avoid them.

I don’t know this neighborhood, or if his neighbors have any cameras. I place a hat on my head, hoodie up, and bring the ski mask up hiding my identity. Jumping over his locked fence, I find the backdoor is unlocked, quietly I open it and step inside, hearing the shower running.

Lucky me.

I find a pantry in the kitchen and slip inside and wait for him to go to his room. The slits through the door let me see when the door to the bathroom opens, steam billowing around him. He’s got a towel wrapped around his waist. Thank God. He walks to his bedroom and shuts the door. I hear the bed creak, waiting another ten or so minutes to be on the safe side, then I make my way to his room; stealthily. Under the door, I see that the lights are off, I crack open his door, and find him sleeping soundly.

This really is too easy.

I stand over his body, watching him, waiting for his senses to kick in and wake him up.

Counting the breaths he takes, I stand behind him, and his breathing starts to become faster. He jolts up, chest heaving, eyes tired and wild, searching in the dark for what woke him. He catches his breath, shaking his head, thinking there is no threat until he turns over, and sees me staring down at him.

Before he has time to scream, the syringe I keep in my car is in his neck, ketamine flooding his system and knocking him out once again. I smirk knowing this time he’ll be out much longer.

Tyler lives in a nice neighborhood, so I need to be extra careful getting him to my car. I sling his arm over my shoulder making it look like I’m helping a drunk friend to my car if anybody sees us. Not that they would. It is three in the morning and most people are inside asleep.

We make it to my car unnoticed, and I lay him in the backseat before heading home.

It takes an hour to get home, I avoid all cameras, and take the scenic route home to ensure I’m not followed and I don’t follow any predictable patterns. When we get to the road that leads to my house, I drive past my home, heading straight to my work space. I park and get out of the car. A cool breeze hits me instantly and I inhale the humid air.

I never did well in the heat, the sun has always been my enemy. I thrive in the cooler weather, especially with how I dress, always in pants.

I walk back to my car and drag Tyler's body from the back seat. He is still knocked out which makes it easier to get his body in and on my table.

While he sleeps, I strap him down and get all my tools ready. This kill was spontaneous and unlike me, nothing is prepped. My space doesn’t have any plastic laid down, my tools aren’t laid out, and my incinerator isn’t turned on.

What is my little lamb doing to me?

I pace around the room, not sure where to start. Everything is messed up. My mind is in shambles. Part of me doesn’t care, I so badly just want to end his life for touching what is mine. The other part of me knows if I don’t get prepped, the clean up after what I have planned will take longer.

Here I am living in chaos, killing another man, all for my little lamb. Slipping on my overalls, I start laying down plastic, and start to prep, letting the meticulous side of me win.

Finishing the set up, he is still asleep. I look down at his face, my knuckles turning white, thinking about how he was on a date with my little lamb. I crack my neck, trying to loosen the tension building there.

Seeing him laying there, thinking back to how he tried to kiss what’s mine, my anger wins over and I grab his hand and break his pointer finger.

There is a satisfying pop sound, making me smirk, I let his finger go, he tries to jolt up, screaming in agony. Flailing and failing to grab his hand with the other. I step into his line of sight, look down and with a smile say “Finally! You’re awake.”

He looks up realization instantly hitting him and pisses himself. The pee dribbles onto the floor, making me jump out of the way before it hits my work boots. After he's done soiling himself, I walk over and break another finger, eliciting a shrill that has me twitching from the sound.

“Look, man, I’m sorry,” he says, already sobbing. I look down at him with pure disgust, anger bubbling through me.

“You almost pissed on me. None of my lambs have ever done that.”

“You broke my fucking finger, and earlier tonight you had me by the throat! What the fuck did you expect?” He seethes through sniffled tears.

“I didn’t break one.” I grab his hand, making my intent clear in my eyes. I break three more fingers, making him scream louder. “I broke five.” I release his hand, depraved satisfaction buzzing in my veins, and get in his face. “I made a promise that I would break all of your fingers if you didn’t apologize.”

Wheezing he says “I did apologize, I was on my fucking knees apologizing!”

“It wasn’t fast enough, I had to make you apologize. You should have done so without a second thought.” I step back, my hand shaking as I wrestle for control. “Then you had the audacity to go pick up another girl because mine wouldn’t kiss you.”

His eyes widened in shock. “You were following me?!”

I looked down at him with a snarl. “How else was I supposed to make good on my promise? Luckily for me you were still there when I got back to my car. From there it was like a cat chasing a mouse.”

He starts crying again, begging me to let him go. “Please, man, I deleted her number after I left. I swear I was never going to contact her again.”

I pulled his phone from his pocket, “What’s the code?”

He stays silent, causing my anger to flare, grabbing a knife from the table and jamming it into his hand. He cries out, sobbing “six, nine, six, nine.”

I roll my eyes, mumbling. “Pathetic,” under my breath and type the numbers. The phone unlocks with a faint click and I go to the messages. I see a conversation with ‘BITCH’, and click it, opening to see it is the conversation between him and my little lamb.

My hand tightens around the phone and I shove it in his face, pissed off that he lied, and named her as bitch. “I hate being lied to, Tyler. You’ll be punished for that.” I break the phone and sim card, chucking it across the room, uncaring where it ends up.

Ripping the knife out of his hand, I walk to the other side of the table, his eyes following my every move. I grab his hand, making his eyes widen, and start slicing off each finger. His nails on a chalkboard scream, has me cutting faster.

“Please” he begs, “I can’t take anymore.”

“The night is still young, Tyler and I’m not even close to being done with you.”

Walking over to my tools, I pick up my sharpest scalpel, then walk over to turn on my speaker. His screams are making my ears bleed, and I need music to drown it out. I turn on Spotify and “ September” by Earth Wind and Fire blares through the speakers.

I walk back over and wave the scalpel in front of his face. “Do you know what this is used for?” He’s crying, his words incomprehensible gibberish as he begs for mercy I no longer have. Instead of waiting for an answer, I grab his face, pressing my fingers into his cheeks, making his lips puff out like a fish. “Let me show you.” I get close to his face. “This is for trying to kiss my little lamb.”

I take the scalpel and cut off his bottom lip, blood pouring from it. I cut his top lip, finishing the punishment towards my little lamb, which caused him to lose consciousness. Pissed he was knocked out from the pain, I grab a kettle, fill it with water, and grab the bolt tongs to place the pot into my incinerator. After a few minutes I hear that satisfying sizzle letting me know it is hot enough to take out.

Carefully, I walk back over and tip the kettle letting a few drops hit his skin. When he starts to stir from the heat, I pour the rest onto him, making his skin blister instantly under it. He’s trying and failing to thrash around, screaming from the pain, spitting blood down his chest.

The music drowns out his screams, and I walk over to my work table placing my scalpel down, grabbing my bayonet. I make my way back over to Tyler and start stabbing, uncaring of the mess I’m making; his blood flies everywhere, getting all over me and my work space.

I get lost in killing him and I lose count of how many times I’ve stabbed him even after his body goes limp. I watch the life leave his eyes, stopping as my chest heaves and blood drips down my face. Grabbing my electric-reciprocating saw to cut his body into pieces small enough to fit into the incinerator.

After I throw him and his belongings into the fire, I clean up my workspace, discard my boots and make my way back home. The sun is starting to rise as I walk back.

Once inside, I take a quick shower and when I get out, I notice it is already six in the morning. I collapse onto the bed naked, thoughts of my little lamb coming to mind, before I knock out.