A GOOD GIRLS GUIDE TO MURDER ( oneshots ! )

Sweet Serial Killer

There was blood on her hands and tears in her eyes and she didn't know whose blood it was.

She had blacked out sometime in the night, she was sure of that. She supposed that was what happened when she mixed pills with martinis at a club, but she was scared.

She had no idea how she got home — and the fact was, she wasn't home, tucked into her bed, because she was in a hotel room.

The bed was still made, Pip was laid sideways on top of the comforter, and none of that mattered to her, because still, there was blood on her fingers.

Why, in God's name, was there blood splattered over her hands?

She sat up for the first time that morning, her head beginning to pound. She had to figure out what the fuck was going on.

First, she checked over herself, nodding when she saw she was still fully dressed — jeans and a sparkly strapless top, hair a bit matted now.

When she ruled out a one night stand gone wrong, she hauled herself to the bathroom, turning on the faucet and not caring that the water was burning her fingers — she needed the blood gone. It reminded her too much of...DT.

DT, who she wouldn't actually refer to by name, because every time she heard his name, she'd have to run to the nearest trash can to throw up.

She took a sharp breath once rid of the blood on her fingers, eyes flickering up to her face. A sigh escaped her lips when she found that her face had been clear of any sign of blood; but she had a thin cut across her cheek that trailed over her nose and just above her eyebrow, plus a black eye.

So, something had happened. A fight, maybe, hopefully. Her gut, however, was telling her that her body count had raised to two.

Almost unconsciously, she found herself fishing her phone out of her pocket — 3:13 A.M., she noticed — and dialed a number that she never forgot.

"Sarge?" His voice came after three rings, that half asleep tone that Pip was so familiar with.

"Ravi, I think I killed someone," she huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers before wincing at the sting from her still fresh cut.

—

It took Ravi a little over thirty minutes to find the hotel Pip was at — one far too expensive for Pip's budget in the middle of Times Square.

He had sped there, more focused on the GPS than he'd ever been before.

His hands had shook as he took the elevator up to her room, as he rapped his knuckles against the door, as he pulled Pip into the tightest hug possible.

"What the fuck do you mean, Pip?" He asked for the second time — once after she'd let him in on the news of the night.

And when he pulled away and saw her mutilated face, he let out an unruly gasp — "Holy fucking shit, what happened?"

"So, that's the thing," she said as he shut the door and led her to the bed, sitting her down on it. "I don't... I don't know. I went out with some friends to a club," Ravi cocked an eyebrow. "— we have fake IDs — um, but we got some martinis and eventually, pills were added to the mix, and—"

"Pills? Pip, you're not serious."

"It was stupid, I know. But after that, I have no idea what happened. I woke up in here on the bed about an hour and a half ago with blood on my hands and a pounding headache. Plus my new shiner. So..."

"So you think you killed someone because you were a little bloodied? Pip, it was probably just a fight that you don't remember."

"I don't know. I want that to be true, but..."