Chapter 1 #2
“Such a pretty color.” Brenden runs his pointer finger along the plane of my jaw. “You’ll look so much better when you’re covered in it.”
“Fuck yo—”
Another blow—this time to the back of my head—and the force of it takes my breath away. Stars spark in my eyes, vision tunneling, but through the haze, I’m vaguely aware of my body fighting, giving it everything it has to stop this from happening to me.
The knife digs into my throat, and instinct takes over, freezing my muscles and holding me in place to stop it from going deeper. As panic overrides all my senses, the other two men begin ripping my clothes off, baring my body to the frigid night air.
A single, traitorous tear slides down my cheek as I tilt my head back, gazing up at the sky. The smog hangs in a thick layer over the city, blocking the moonlight. I find myself wishing I could see the stars, that I had something to focus on to take my mind off the terrible thing about to happen.
I should have taken the bus…
A choked laugh bubbles past my lips, the sound full of irony and a quiet kind of desperation. I’m really going to die here tonight, aren’t I?
I close my eyes to stave off a fresh round of tears, but a shuffling sound has them springing back open as soon as they shut. I blink rapidly, sure I must be imagining the strange figure emerging from the shadowed alley.
My attackers have their backs to him, too preoccupied with their current task to notice—but I’m unable to tear my eyes away.
Sensing my gaze, the stranger brings a gloved hand up to where his mouth would be, giving me the hush sign. Though I can’t see his face, something in me says he’s wearing a wide grin beneath the terrifying bloodred mask.
I shake my head, sure I must be imagining things. It can’t possibly be…
But it is. Seeing him now, I’m sure of it. The man standing not ten feet away is the monster from the news. The terror of the night.
Red 7.
The only thing worse than being torn apart by these three animals is being left to the mercy of Red 7… and I’m facing both in one night.
I’m not sure if it’s panic or stupidity, but instead of pleading for my life with the masked man like I should, I lift my head high, staring unblinking at the spot where his eyes would be.
“Make them suffer,” I say. “If I have to die, I want to know that they won’t be far behind.”
Red 7 tilts his head, my words seeming to give him pause.
“Say please.”
A mechanical, distorted voice flows through the air, raking over my skin and chilling me to my core.
The two men pulling at my pants freeze, whipping their heads toward the masked stranger in tandem.
Their expressions morph from cruel satisfaction to terror in the blink of an eye, and I might find humor in it if the situation were different.
“Who the fuck are you?” asks the man on my left. “Don’t you know Halloween’s over, freak?”
Brenden removes the knife from my throat and takes a threatening step toward the masked man. “The fuck are you staring at? Scram.”
“Yeah, get out of here!” Scott turns fully toward Red 7. “Unless you want to get cut like this little bitch here.”
The man in the mask doesn’t appear to have heard them.
He’s too busy staring at me, head tilted at that odd angle.
I lower my gaze with a shiver, watching as he twirls a large blade between his fingers.
It’s effortless and graceful, the kind of practiced action that tells me he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
Then, faster than I can blink, that same knife flies from his hands. There’s a small thud, and I whip my head toward the sound—just to be splattered by the blood squirting from Scott’s windpipe.
I reel back with a gasp, ripping my arm from his grip as two earsplitting pops shatter the silence.
The balding man falls to his knees with a choked wail as Scott clutches wildly at his oozing throat, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood.
Two more gunshots ring out, and Brenden falls just like his friend, dark red fluid pouring from his kneecaps as screams and cries of mercy echo into the alley.
“Say please.”
That voice… Another involuntary shiver works through me, and every hair stands on end. The sight of the faceless red oval spattered with darker maroon makes my stomach flip, and I struggle to remain standing.
“Plea—” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Please.”
Red 7 nods, satisfied with my answer. Then he raises his gun and fires off three more shots—each one landing square in the groin of each of my attackers.
He lets them scream themselves hoarse for a few minutes, seeming to take great enjoyment in their suffering.
When they beg him to end it, he actually laughs—the sound full and deep despite the voice mod in his mask.
“What do you think? Have they suffered enough?”
I don’t know what to say, but the screams are giving me a headache, so I nod.
“Yes.” My fingertips are numb from how tightly I’m clenching my hands. “Yes, they have.”
The masked man nods once more, then turns, stalking toward the man with the knife in his throat. Red 7 rips it out, making quick work of slitting his throat. He moves on to the next two with mechanical precision, taking their lives in a similar manner, quieting them forever.
I rub my palms over my arms, shivering at the wrongness of the silence. I can’t bring myself to watch as Red 7 stands and paces toward me. All my energy is going into keeping myself standing, to stop from sinking to the ground in a puddle.
A hand on my cheek makes me jump. I raise my eyes, shocked to find the notorious serial killer standing in front of me, caressing my face.
“Are you going to kill me now?” I ask, my voice surprisingly numb.
Red 7 runs his gloved thumb under my eye, collecting the single tear that managed to escape. A low chuckle shakes his chest, and that awful red mask shakes back and forth.
“Of course not.” He leans in, rubbing the metal against my temple in a gentle caress. “I’m going to do much worse.”
There’s a sharp prick in the side of my neck, and the world goes black.