You Stole my Kill - Angel's pov
Hello lovely readers!
Thank you for coming to meet the characters that live in my head rent free. They're a little crazy (well, maybe a lot crazy) but still lovable. Be nice to them or a certain serial killer might find you in the middle of the night.
Kidding!!! (mostly.)
Anywayyy I'm Lulu, I love dark romance and thrillers so I sort of smashed the two genres together. I procrastinate so yell at me if I take too long, and please be careful when reading this! I only vaguely plan out my writing so a lot of this crazy story was spur of the moment. It can get pretty dark but I'll have warnings before those parts. I hope you give these two troublemakers a shot!
Love y'all and enjoy!
I had been waiting in the alley for hours. Planning this for days. The sedatives were prepped, and I was ready, achingly so, to use them. I drummed my gloved fingers impatiently against the concrete wall, listening to the sounds of the city as I waited. Distant sirens, drunken shouting, cars and trucks whooshing past. But my street was quiet.
I peered out of the alley cautiously - she was late. Victoria Anderly, a journalist who'd been covering most of the major crime stories of the city. I'd been watching her for weeks, covertly of course, but the girl was smart. I'd noticed how cautious she'd been lately... perhaps she'd decided to take a safer route home. That would be smart, but no fun for me.
"Damnit," I muttered under my breath, seeing no one. I melted back into the shadows, deciding to wait at least another hour. Maybe she stayed late for work. Troublesome thing, too good at her job. Had some good theories about me, ones that a hit a little too close to home. Why she thought most of the recent murders were connected. How they probably pointed to one person, most likely an adult male in his thirties based on evidence. I couldn't let all that slide, could I?
Suddenly I heard footsteps, soft ones that echoed down the street regardless. It was Victoria, walking alone to her bus stop, steps a little rushed as she realized she was late. A wicked grin painted my features as I pulled down my ski mask, one gloved hand finding my knife. Took her long enough.
I prepped the syringe, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. I could hear Victoria humming softly under her breath, a tune I couldn't place but vaguely recognized. The little journalist, still not shutting up even seconds away from disaster. I tense, pressing against the wall as she nears, ready to jump out.
Finally the moment comes. I lunge, leaping at the girl like a cat upon a mouse. As I jump out at her, I see a black car, nondescript, rolling past. Chaos ensues, Victoria screaming as I crash into her, too late to pull back. Her blonde hair spreads like a halo around her head as she hits the ground hard beneath me. A gunshot rings out and I curse colorfully, ducking down, still on top of the struggling woman.
And that's when my carefully laid plan falls to pieces.
"Get off me! Motherfucker!!" Victoria shouts, thrashing wildly. "Shut up!" I growl back, fumbling for my knife or the syringe or both- something to quiet her. Everything's a blur as I wrestle with the journalist, finally gripping my knife properly and thrusting it down wildly. Another gunshot echoes through the street, bullet ricocheting off the wall.
At the same time I hear a spraying sound like liquid hissing from a canister- pepper spray. I fall back, howling. "Fucking hell!" I rub frantically at my eyes, which are burning worse than that barn I set on fire my senior year in highschool.
I hear a car door slam, footsteps slamming into the concrete as someone rushes over. I curse again, looking down through bleary eyes at Victoria, my knife buried in her chest. A cannister of pepper spray is still gripped weakly in her hand, blood soaking through her blouse. There's no way I can plead innocent for this. "I'm so fucked," I mutter as someone grabs my collar.
"You stole my kill!"
