5. Aster
FIVE
ASTER
I t’s a nice autumn night, with a full moon illuminating the sky. I'm sitting on the hood of my Chevelle, watching my breath dance in the cool air and smelling my little lamb on my clothes, awaiting my next victim. I look down at my watch, tired, but itching to get my hands on him anyway. The time 4:15am is flashing across the screen, and I’m wondering when he’s going to walk out the door.
Another minute ticks by in agonizing anticipation until I finally hear the back door open. Seeing him walking out into the alley where I’m waiting, a new wave of anger washes over me. He starts to walk to his car, reaching into his pocket to bring out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He takes one from the pack and places it in his mouth, covering the end from the wind so it doesn’t go out as he lights it. Taking one puff, his eyes roll to the back of his head as he exhales the smoke.
I watch him, a moment longer, my fingers flexing as I wait for him to amble closer. He walks past the shadows I’m hidden within, not even hesitating a beat, clearly unaware of the predator hunting him. This is almost too easy. If I knew killing men would be this simple, I might have done it before now, but there is something about my lambs that make them my primary target.
I’m up behind him in a flash, a rag soaked in chloroform held over his mouth until his body goes limp in my arms. Hauling him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. This worthless piece of shit weighs nothing. I throw his body into the back of my trunk, closing it without a second thought. Turning around, I take a big breath and light up one of my own cigarettes to give me a minute to collect myself.
What am I doing ? I never take males as my victims. Ever. I rap my knuckles against my car, the thrill of taking my first male victim making me nervous. I don’t get nervous, ever, but this is different, this man could have people looking for him, as where my lambs don’t have anyone. I made sure to check the street for hidden cameras, and that everyone was gone to cover my tracks, but I’m still buzzing with nervous energy.
Muted with the realization I’m breaking one of my rules. All because he insulted my little lamb.
It’s not like she is anything special, aside from the sparks we felt touching each other, which never happens. None of my lambs have ever made me feel anything. I touch my hand, the memory of her soft hands in mine coming back to me. She has the softest, smoothest, tiny hands that fit perfectly in mine. I want to hold her hands again, next time properly. Her lips looked just as soft, I found myself leaning in more than once just wanting to feel them. I bring my hands to my lips, touching the bottom one, imagining what she would have felt like.
I shake my head from the thought, she’s just my next lamb for slaughter, that's all. What is it about her that makes me want to kill anyone who looks at her wrong? I run my fingers through my hair, and take several puffs, letting the smoke fill my lungs, before I blow it out. The way this piece of shit was looking at her, like she was crazy, had me instantly seeing red. The same red I’m going to make pour out of him later.
I’ve never had this reaction to anyone, I couldn’t care less honestly about anyone. The only woman I ever cared about was my mother, and now I don’t even care about her. I always make my lambs think I care, when all I care about is their bodies on my table.
I’m always wearing a mask, hiding the devil inside that is fighting to get out at the most impromptu moments. Usually I’m pretty good at suppressing the beast until I’m home, in my space, doing my work.
Only my little lambs get to see the true me, but tonight he came out just a little. At that bartender and the girl laughing at my newest little lamb. I just felt something inside me start to crack. I needed to feel the bartender's life in my hands at that moment. As much as I want those girls who laughed at my little lamb on my table as well; I only ever have one victim at a time, so the bartender will do, for tonight.
He deserves it more anyway.
Letting my fingers fall from my hair, I let out an exasperated sigh, throwing my cigarette on the ground, and crushing it out with my shoe.
I get in my car and “Nightmare” by Avenged Sevenfold comes blaring through my speakers. I turn it down, trying not to draw attention, and make my way home.
I get home about twenty minutes later driving up the dirt road through the trees that lead to my home. I drive towards the house, passing it and driving five more minutes behind my house on a grassy path to my work space.
Pulling up, I exit and go to open the door to the work space. The light above my work table starts to flicker, and I make a mental note to go buy light bulbs later.
I grab a syringe and bottle of ketamine from my workbench, filling the needle with ease that only comes with years of practice. Placing the bottle back down, I walk back out to my car and open the trunk, seeing he’s still asleep. Usually by now my lambs are awake, but he’s not one of my lambs. He’s dying in the same place, but he won’t be as special as them. I look down at his ugly sleeping form smoothly inserting the needle into his neck. That should make sure he stays asleep while I get my work station prepped and his body ready for slaughter.
About an hour passes before he finally starts to stir, making my impatience grow. I’ve been waiting all night to torture him, but his sleeping is making me agitated. Blinking slowly as he shakes off the effects of the sedatives, looking confused he asks, “Where am I?” Without talking to anyone in particular.
I’m hiding in the shadows in the corner, enjoying the anticipation of what’s to come now that he is finally awake.
He starts to move a little, trying and failing to sit up. His eye’s bulge, panic setting in.
“Hello!” he starts to yell, “Is anyone there?” Now he’s angry, jerking his body in every way in a fruitless attempt to get out of his restraints. “What the hell? This isn’t funny, let me go or so help me I will-”
I step out of the darkness, remaining out of his sight, and in a menacing voice say, “You’ll what?”
Fear leaving him frozen, slowly starting to look around to see where the voice came from. I do love seeing the fear in my victims eyes, it makes what’s about to come next all the sweeter.
Stepping around so he can see my face, his eyes bulge in recognition. “ You ?!” He shrieks, rage forcing his voice to shake. “This isn't funny man. Why the fuck am I here?”
I get close to his face, hoping he can smell the cigarette I smoked earlier, and quietly say, “I didn’t think it was very funny when you looked at my little lamb like she was crazy.” He looks confused, trying to remember the events of the night, but coming up empty.
My body stiffens, eyes flaring, and my hands are begging to grab the weapon to make him scream. I grab my knife from my instrument tray and slam it down into his hand so fast he doesn’t have time to think.
He lets out a blood curdling scream, his voice echoing through the shed. “I’m going to fucking kill you, you think-”
Not letting him finish his sentence, I bring the knife up, and back into the same spot, increasing his pain. His hand starts to twitch, the pain I can only imagine starting to become too much. I contemplate taking the knife out and stabbing it into his other hand, but that would be showing mercy.
Mercy is not an option for this asshole.
I grab another knife, leaving the other one in his hand. Walking around to the other side of him, I push this knife in slowly, letting the skin hug the knife, the blood slowly coming up, and the pain all the more agonizing. “That was your punishment for making my little lamb feel crazy.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Little lamb? Fuck dude, there are so many people who come in the bar, I don’t remember everyone.” He says through clenched teeth.
“You don’t remember my little lamb? Well, let me jog your memory.” I twist the knife, I’m still holding, my patience wearing thin. “She was the one at the bar, in the red dress, that hugged her curves in all the right places.” I feel a twitch, reaching down to adjust my growing erection, from thinking of her. Now is not the time to get off. Clearing my throat, I continue, “Drinking Moscow mules.” Still nothing, like she didn’t even exist in his tiny little world. I grind my teeth, “You almost made her cry.”
His eyes light up, finally remembering my little lamb, and it pisses me off how long it took for him to remember. He needs to be punished. I walk over to my table, grabbing my needle-nose plier, with a sick smirk lifting my cheeks. I pull the knives out of his hands, intentionally dragging the blades through his skin, and absentmindedly click the end of the pliers together as I decide where to start.
His eyes widened in fear, “What are you doing with that man? Look, I'm sorry, I won’t do it again. I promise!”
Placing the tool over his index finger, I look him in the eye. “This is your punishment for taking so long to answer me.” I pull out the nail, and he screams even louder than when I stabbed him.
“P-please let me go. I swear I will never insult her ever again,” he sobs, snot running down his face.
“I have nine fingernails left, by the last one, you wouldn’t have even come close to learning your lesson.”
This makes him cry harder, making it difficult for him to catch his breath. Fucking pathetic . My lambs have more dignity than this worm.
I grab his next finger, his wails grating on my nerves. “This is for looking at her like she was crazy”.
His nail makes a sucking sound as I pull it from his finger.
Pull
“This is for giving her a disgusted look when I called her beautiful”
Pull
I grab his naked ring finger, bending it backwards, until I hear a snap . “That is for spilling a drink on her.” He lets out a blood curdling scream.
Pull
His pinky is the last to go on this hand, “This is for trying to slap her back, after she punched you.” I want him to really feel this one, so I take my time, slowly pulling it out.
One hand is completely drenched in blood, and the other is just starting to bleed. Still not enough. He’s in so much pain, he is shaking. In a ragged voice, he pleads, “Please- please, no more. I can't take it. I’m begging you.”
“I have one hand left, and you haven’t even begun to feel a semblance of the pain you caused my little lamb.”
He tries to move away again, his fight or flight instincts kick in, and he tries with all his might to free himself from the restraints. I continue dishing out his punishment, removing fingernail after fingernail until all that remains are bloody nubs.
He passes out after the last nail is taken, ruining my fun. Blood drips from his hands onto the floor, adding to my collection of invisible stains long since bleached away. I walk out of my kill room, into the cool morning, allowing the chill to help wake me. It’s been a long night, and I wasn’t expecting the sun to already be rising, but when it comes to torture, you lose all track of time. I stay out there staring at the rising sun, for what feels like hours.
Killing a man is so different from killing a woman. A man starts to beg instantly, and then tries to get away, while a woman is smart, trying to get away first, only begging for their lives once they give up. Most usually fight until their last dying breaths. The rest, they fight until the torture stops, and the knife comes out, holding it above their heart. They can always guess what’s about to happen next, accepting their fate.
I don’t enjoy this kill as much as I do my little lambs. This kill is insignificant to me, but I had to rid the earth of him. For what he did to my lamb, I’m giving her the justice she deserves. For some reason, one I don’t even understand myself, I needed to kill him, for my little lamb.
When she punched him in the face, I was shocked. I felt a similar darkness to my own, seeping out of her. The anger matched mine. When I told her, he was going to meet the grim reaper, she didn’t even react how a normal person would. Most would freak out that I was talking about his impending doom. She didn’t, I saw her smile, the way her eyes danced with the idea. She wants his death as much as I do.
Being the gentleman that I am, I’m making her wish come true.
The sun is halfway in the sky and I turn back to the shed.
I need to finish what I started.
Walking over I slap the bartender awake. He startles, forgetting where he is for a second, then the fear starts to sink back in.
“You know,” I say, cracking my knuckles, “I never got your name.”
He glares at me, staying silent. The only form of rebellion he has left.
I chuckle. As if he could win this fight. “Oh, how naive you are. I’ll ask again, this time I won’t be so nice. Tell me your name.” I demand.
Still, he stays silent, newfound bravado in his gaze.
Mindlessly, I pick up the dried bloody knife behind me and bring it down into his stomach. His body lurches forward, as much as it can tied down, as he lets out a bloody, gurgled cough. “Why do you want to know?”
Hand still wrapped around the handle, “I like to know the names of the people I kill.”
“Gary,” he wheezes, his eyes darting around in desperation.
I Laugh, “Of course your name is Gary. It’s fitting, you’re pathetic, but special.”
“Wha-what makes me special?”
I smile cruelly at him “You’re my first male victim, and you’re pushing me to try something new. You don’t deserve to die the way my lambs die.”
He looks at me, his brows drawing together as sweat dots his forehead. “You keep calling that bitch-”
I pull the knife out, slamming it into his stomach again, twisting until I hit bone. Leaning in close in his face, I watch his pupils shrink in fear as I loom over him. “That was a mistake,” I hissed. “Call my lamb any profanities again, and I won’t end this fast.”
Gary coughs up blood, having the audacity to smile at me. His body shakes from the pain and blood loss, but that doesn’t stop him from saying in a raspy voice. “It sounds like you call your victims ‘lambs’, so she must be next.” He pauses, his breath rattling his chest. “Does this make me one of your lambs, too?”
Yanking the knife up, I admire how his blood catches the low light in the shed. “No, Gary. You are not one of my little lambs. You are nothing.”
I stab him again and again, blood flying everywhere, and tainting everything in my space with his filth, until I see his body go limp and my arm burns from overuse.
I’m breathing hard, looking around at the mess I created. Why did I do this? I never kill spontaneously like this, every kill is always planned meticulously so I don’t get caught. I never kill men, I never break my rules. Breaking any of my rules could lead to my demise. I pace back and forth, running my bloody hands through my hair.
Tonight goes against every rule I’ve ever had, my breaths come faster and faster as I stare at the destruction around me. What did my little lamb do to me? What did I do for her?
I shake my head, forcing away the panic simmering just underneath the surface. I begin cleaning up, freezing for a moment not knowing where to start. There’s blood everywhere, staining every surface around Gary. My lips curl in disgust, as I look at his prone body.
He doesn’t deserve to be displayed like my lambs are. He needs to disappear, as if he was never here to begin with.
I wipe the blood dripping down my face, stopping it from getting into my eyes. Squelching through the puddles of blood to turn on my incinerator. Grabbing my saw, ignoring the ache in my shoulders as I begin cutting Gary into pieces. Sweat dripping down my back, I throw his body along with my clothes, into the flame without a second thought.
No one will ever find him.
I grab my burner phone, my body trembling in exhaustion, satisfaction, and anxiety, and send off a text.
Aster
Good morning little lamb.
I got a response a few minutes later.
Tori
Well good morning to you too. Do you miss me already?
I met Tori at a club a few weeks ago, she was alone, just like all my lambs are. I always take my time with my creations, usually spending a week or two getting to know them before luring them in. After I bide my time, I plan a date and bring them back to my place, making sure no one knows where they are going. Then I begin my fun. I usually hunt every two to three months, to give myself a break, but the anger and confusion I was feeling; I needed another lamb on my table. It may not be Serena, but her time will come. I want to play with her longer before I say goodbye. Tori has been on the hook long enough, and now, it is her time.
Aster
More than you know.
I cringe as I press send, getting a response right away.
Tori
Well, can I see you tonight? The plans I did have backfired, so I’m free.”
I copy the address of a bar to meet and click send.
Aster
See you at 8, little lamb.
Tori
Can’t wait, big bad wolf.
She is nothing like my newest lamb. Every single lamb I have captured has always called me their wolf, because that’s what you think of when it comes to animals. Serena though, she instantly called me fox, taking me by surprise.
I smile at that thought, and place my burner back on my work table. I kick off my work boots and slip on my regular boots. Making my way back towards my house, I let the morning light warm my skin. Slowly heading up the steps, I slip off my boots then head inside.
I glance between my bedroom and my bathroom, exhaustion slowly taking over the muted euphoria I feel from my kill. I battle for what seems to be minutes, if I want to shower or just knock out. Knowing I would regret it and eager to get rid of every trace of Gary, I grunt and begrudgingly make my way to the bathroom and turn on the shower.
Stepping into the hot spray, I let the water run over me, watching the blood go down the drain. I wash everything off, taking extra time to get the blood out from under my fingernails. I smirk as the water finally clears. Good riddance, Gary. Stepping out of the shower, I grab a towel and dry off, not even bothering to get dressed before collapsing in bed and succumbing to the dark.