Two Minds Think Alike

12:35 am.
Perfect.
Pulling my hood over my head, I carefully but quickly slunk through the empty, quiet neighborhood. No cars drove past the rows of houses. No sound escaped from those houses. My only light sources were the lamplights that stood at the end of every other block, and the almost full moon that hid behind dark floating clouds. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and risked a glance at it—
“Victim spotted. It’s showtime.”
A smile crept onto my face with satisfaction.
I continued down the sidewalks, silently sticking to the shadows as I had practiced doing for as long as I can remember. Ahead, she walked alone down the empty street, oblivious to the danger that tailed her.
I slowed my pace as she approached what seemed to be her house, watching her with greedy anticipation. As she dug in her purse for keys, I slipped a pair of black leather gloves onto my hands, savoring the feel of the metal in my hand - as foretold by the message, it was showtime.
I emerged from the shadows and snapped a thick arm around her throat from behind. She thrashed, nails clawing at my skin, but her efforts were useless against my strength. I leaned close to whisper in her ear, sending a shiver through her trembling body. "Scream and you’ll regret it." She went still, whimpering quietly and flinching every time she did. I dragged her into the nearby alley, kicking aside trash cans. Her pleas for help wouldn’t even hit the ears of the dead people.
My knife slipped free, its blade catching the moonlight. I ran its cool edge over her soft flesh, tracing imaginary designs. Her shuddering breaths were music to me. Carefully, I set to work crafting my special gift, just for her– an eternity of fear and pain. This would be the last piece of art she would see in this world. My knife performed its dance across her skin with practiced expertise. Every drag of the blade elicited new cries of anguish, every ounce of her pain- all of my dreams coming true in real life. Her struggles grew weaker as her life spilled onto the dirty pavement. I leaned in close to take in her features, twisted in a portrait of utter torment, before lowering my face to hers. "Such a pity to end our play so soon," I purred. I brought my face away from hers. "But all good things must come to an end." I finished before bringing the knife home. She didn't struggle, she didn't scream for help. Her eyes stared up at me into the nothingness. No breath escaped her lips- the only sound that met my ears was dead silence.
There she lay, my latest canvas now empty and still. I took a moment to admire my work, the intricate patterns I'd carved upon her flesh glowing crimson in the muted streetlamp light. Another masterpiece was complete. But every artist, me included, was held responsible for cleaning up the mess they made. Any trace of the murder was scoured from the cold pavement, while tools and clothing were stowed safely away. Not a shred of evidence would implicate me. I stood surveying my work with a twitch of dark satisfaction curling my lips. Another soul had joined the countless others. Those damn authorities would have nothing, and as always, I would remain sheltered in the shadows. Retrieving my burner phone from my coat pocket, I inputted the sole number programmed and held it to my ear. After two rings, my partner's deep, modulated voice greeted me on the other end.
"It's done. Another one for the collection."
"Well done," he replied, purring in satisfaction. I felt pride swelling inside myself, touched by affection.
"I see your skills remain as sharp as ever. Did she suffer appropriately?" he continued. A deep chuckle escaped my throat.
“She didn’t even have a chance,” I replied.
"Sharp, as always. You do such beautiful work, my dear."
“What's next on our agenda?" I asked, eager for my next kill.
A dark chuckle resounded through the line. "Patience, my dear. I have the seeds of a plan forming, and soon, that seed will blossom into another work of art. Until then, lay low. I will send you our next phase of our little game.” The line clicked off.
I ended the call and slipped the burner phone back into my pocket, an anticipatory smile on my lips. To the outside world, I was a phantom - unseen, unheard, untraceable. Those nosy detectives will never solve this twisted puzzle. Good luck beating this game, I thought to myself. As for the others, they are unaware of the monsters lurking in the dark, they provide the raw materials for our creative genius to flourish. The flesh was the canvas, fear the paint, and death the final brushstroke. I melted back into the darkness once more.
Our fun little game had only begun.