Dark and Dire

Chapter 2

The doorman did not ask me any questions as I entered the building, he must not have thought I did not belong. That was good, very good. He gave me a simple nod as I entered the building.

The elevator was easy to find and the penthouse floor was easy to locate. I hit the top floor button with my gloved hand, it was best not to leave fingerprints. I couldn't have the police knowing who I was, not just yet.

I tilted my head up and watched as the elevator dinged softly for each floor we passed. The tens, the twenties, the thirties, and up. We hit floor fifty and the shiny metal elevator doors opened up, revealing a long hallway with only a few doors. The penthouses, each with a shiny little number in front to lead me exactly to who I need.

One of the doors creaked open and I ducked into the doorway of one of the houses, pretending to fiddle with opening the door. "Oh, good morning Mrs. Baker," A woman called as she walked out of the penthouse. "I will come by later with some muffins that I baked. I have to get off to work, but I will see you tonight."

I just nodded my head, my hood up to cover my hair and face. She could believe that I was little old Mrs. Baker, whoever that may be. Her departure meant that the penthouse was now clear of anyone... except for him.

I slowly made my way to the door the woman had just come out of, reaching into my pocket to pull out my tools to pick the lock. I worked soundlessly for a few minutes until I heard the satisfying click of the door unlocking itself to me.

I slowly pushed the door open, peaking my head inside. The kitchen was empty, the smell of freshly cooked bacon and eggs still lingering in the air. There was only one plate and one glass left in the sink, he was still upstairs.

I made my way through the living room silently, watching my step to avoid stepping on anything that might cause alarm to my prey.

But he should be expecting me, he should know that he did something bad, and now something bad must happen to him. It wasn't my fault that he was the man chosen, the prophet said it must be the wealthy businessman that cheated on his wife. It's his own fault.

I crept up the stairs silently, reaching deep into my pocket to pull out a blade. I gripped it in my hand tightly, my hands trembling slightly as I imagined what I was about to do. But this was not my first, and I know it won't be my last. Yet the thrill of every kill brought me joy that I could not explain.

Upstairs, the bedroom door was closed. I pressed my ear to the door and listened silently, holding my breath to see if there was any noise inside. All that could be heard was deafening silence and the racing of my own heart.

With a grin, I slowly twisted the doorknob and pushed open the door. It squeaked slightly but the man in bed did not stir. He did not know that I was coming to get him. I relished in the look of confusion when they first woke up, then the look of fear and horror when they realized that their life was fading because of me. That they would soon be dead, and I would be the last thing they see when everything goes dark.

The man lay sleeping in his bed, unaware as I slowly made my way over. I stood over him for a moment, tilting my head as I watched him rest. It was so peaceful... so despicable. I would take care of that

I slowly raised my knife before I plunged it down into the stomach of the victim. I watched as the knife pierced his skin, as the blood welled up and poured out of him and into the sheets and blankets below him.

The man's eyes flew open, confusion and then horror crossing his face as he looked down to see the handle of the knife protruding from his abdomen. The pain set in next, his scream piercing the air as blood streamed out of the wound.

I gripped onto the handle of the knife, pulling the blade out before slamming it back down. I repeated the motion five, ten, fifteen times as I watched the light slowly die in his eyes.

When I was sure that he was gone, I ripped the blade from his lifeless and pale body before making my way downstairs. I glanced around the living room, searching for anything that I could find to hide the knife. It has to be a painting, they said it was a painting.

There were no paintings in the living room, so now I had to be creative. I made my way into the hallway with blood splattered on my face, scanning the halls. Near one of the other penthouses, I found the perfect one. My eyes gleamed as a grin crossed my face, stealing the painting off of the wall.

I made my way back inside, nailing the picture on the wall right above the couch. I hide the knife behind, careful to first wipe it free of any blood. I would not make the same mistakes to get caught.

I then crept back up the stairs to the bedroom, taking a few minutes to admire my handiwork. Then I got to work, tucking the bloody sheets under the body to easily drag him onto the floor. With a bit of effort, I was able to drag his lifeless body down the stairs and into the living room, positioning him in the way that it was told.

When I was satisfied with the way he looked, I took the bloody sheets and tossed them down the laundry shoot. The body would be found soon anyways, there was no reason to be discrete.

I made my way into the office, grabbing a paper and a pen. "This is what you get for cheating on your wife" I whispered to myself as I stared down at the paper. No, that wouldn't do, that wouldn't send the message that I needed.

Slowly, very slowly I wrote my message on the piece of paper before settling it on the coffee table next to the body. Then I reached into my other pocket, pulling out my trademark. I made my way back to the knife and stuck it on the handle. She needed to know, Evelyn needed to know.

I grinned as I admired everything that I had done. I glanced at myself in the mirror, making sure that I had no more blood on my face and none on my clothes. When I was satisfied that I appeared normal, I made my way back out of the apartment and down the shiny metal elevator.

The doorman gave me nothing more than a nod again as I made my way into the streets, getting lost in the crowd of the city with a wicked grin on my face.