Serial Killers--Chapters 1 & 2

Chapter 1:

The sound of moaning leaked from somewhere down the hall. It reverberated through the glass panes of the large office building, bouncing off in the same way she imagined god-only-knows-who’s phallus would be rubbering rapidly into some very happy woman’s cervix. Grimly, El sat up, laughing at herself for believing she could actually get a decent night’s sleep at work—or at least one better than the alternative setting.

She stretched, cracking her neck painfully into its normal position from a stiffened one that could be largely attributed to having been resting on a hard wood arm of her office sofa. It was a bleak situation to be in, being forced to leave her comfortable, expensive bed at home and relocate to a thoroughly uncomfortable sofa specifically meant to make clients feel intimidated. She found herself wishing her office had a warmer and more feminine décor.

She debated upon acting on her curiosity as to who was conducting a sordid affair in the office. She decided to do so, justifying her adolescent desire with the belief that they had so rudely interrupted her sleep by choosing to fuck oh-so-loudly down the hall. Again, she laughed. Lack of sleep did amusing things to one’s mind.

She crept down the hall slowly and quietly, tiptoeing barefoot so that the sinful couple wouldn’t be startled and try to sneak away. Her gown blew behind her, and she tightened her grip around the robe she was wearing. She thought to herself that the office building was unusually cold for an October, then remembered that it was three in the morning and that they probably turned the heating off after everyone left for the night. 

The moaning grew louder and there was a scream of pleasure. She grinned, this guy must be good.

The office door in which the affair was being conducted was wide open. Cautiously, she peeked around the corner, kneeling as she did so. The streetlight outside illuminated the two lovers, causing them to glow as if on fire. The woman was sprawled over the desk, the man on top of her, ramming his hips in quickly as she moaned throatily. El could see through the dark as the woman’s hands clutched his back in ecstasy, pulling him deeper. Another piercing scream shoved from the woman’s throat, then transformed into a gurgling howl of pain as he pulled his hips away. She heard a deep chuckle and saw his hand press over her mouth.

El screamed softly in horror as the knife glinted in the streetlamp and thrust again into the woman’s side. She clamped her hand over her mouth, trying to keep from breathing. In this position, it was almost impossible to move without making noise. She was forced to watch.

He leaned forward over the now barely-struggling woman. She was shaking underneath him. “I’ll bet you regret getting in the car with me,” El heard him whisper. There was a sort of apathetic amusement in his voice that made her sob in fear from outside the door. The woman on the desk stopped shaking and went limp. There was no sound other than a short, soft chuckle from the man and a sickening thud as he pushed the body onto what sounded like plastic on the floor.

The last thing she remembered after that was the light in the room flashing on before she could move.

Chapter 2:
         
“Well, good morning.”

El blinked, her eyes adjusting to the light of the sun peering through an open window. She was lying naked in a large, comfortable bed. Whose bed, she did not know. Nor did she know where the voice had come from. She sat up slowly, being careful not to upset her throbbing skull. She felt something wet dripping down the side and into her ear.

A wet washcloth flew at her from around the corner.

“Wipe the blood off.” An order.

She touched it to her head, believing herself to be in a dream. The carrier of the voice stepped into the room. He was tall and lean, graying, with a neat unshaven look. Her first impression was that he was very attractive, with soft lips and brilliant light brown eyes. He was perhaps forty or so, but looked as if he kept in good shape. His look reminded her of the classy, smooth actors from her grandmother’s generation.

She’d definitely seen him before. In fact, after a moment, she knew just who he was. She’d met him once outside of her work, when his silver Lexus had nearly bowled her over as she was crossing the street to catch a cab. She remembered his smirk clearly,  it was the same as the one on his face now.

She looked at the washcloth and saw it soaked red. Only then did she remember the night before. The blood dripping from the woman’s mouth and stomach.

Seconds later she was on her feet on the other side of the bed, terror collapsing her lungs so that her words were mere gasps. “You killed her!”

The man grinned and stood calmly in the doorway, not saying a word.

“You killed her.”

“Indeed,” he replied smoothly. “I did.”

Her knees went weak and she leaned on the edge of the bed. She was nauseous and dizzy from the crack to her head. He watched her casually, the grin solid on his face.

“Sorry about the uhh… cut on your head, there,” he said. “Shouldn’t take too long to heal. I just had to get you knocked out. You’re little appearance slowed my clean-up time pretty dramatically. An hour more and the janitors would have caught us.”

She choked and leaned over to vomit on the red, red carpet. She felt better afterwards, leaning forward with her head pressed to the bed. She was only mildly afraid at that moment, as her headache was blinding almost all emotion.

“You killed her,” she repeated.

He laughed and walked to her, wrapping his arm around her naked waist. She suddenly felt shy and tugged away, darting around him to the doorway. “I’m calling the cops.”

Again, he chuckled, but harder this time. “And telling them what? I’ve done this enough times not to get caught, Ms. Rinkard. There is no way they will trace anything back to me. In fact, I’m friends with most of the police around here.”
         
“You call them, they’ll come running. I’ll tell them I brought you home last night, both of us drunk, and you were unwilling to leave in the morning. The cut on your head happened when we stumbled in the bedroom.” He tapped the coffee table next to the bed. “All I have to do is slam you against this a couple of times.”

So casually had he planned out this plan that she shivered with fear. The full realization of the situation was slowly creeping up on her. She was under the control of a serial killer, and a powerful one, at that.

“You’re sick,” she muttered, sitting down on the bed. “What do you want from me?”

“I can’t tell yet,” he replied, walking back to the doorway. “All I know is that if you call the cops or leave this house, I will hunt you down and you will suffer the same fate as that whore you caught me fucking in the dark.” His voice was cool. “I can guarantee that.”

With a grin, he was gone from the room, and she was left to wonder what to do. He was not probably not lying about knowing the police, nor being friends with them. This was a corrupt city, to say the least. It bragged nepotistic judicial and law enforcement systems, as well as an allegedly drug-addicted chief of police. It was quite common to take the law into one’s own hands; there was no one else the people wanted to trust.

She lay back down on the bed, growing dizzy. Her headache overpowered most of her fear, still. At least, she felt somewhat safe for the time being. He didn’t seem to want to hurt her yet, or else he would have done it.

Even if he did kill me, she thought. It’d probably be a welcome change.

Grimly, she grinned and held the washrag to her head as she dozed off, naked in the stranger’s bed.