The Admirer: The Doll Collector Sequel

Chapter 4: The Admirer

I wondered if this was what he did, listened to the news and saw how beautifully his work was unfolding.

It was likely. It seemed so fit to watch the horrified expressions of those around me. There was something about their fear that fed the hunger growing inside of me. It was reaching starvation now. I had gotten a taste of what it was like to take a human life and I had enjoyed it. The realization after leaving Kristopher's present at the station was like being submerged in warm water.

It reached the top of my head and when the waters receded, I was born again.

I had tipped off the news teams about the body delivered to the police station and had set my DVR to record every news block until I came home.

It was the top breaking story on the morning news. Video had been taken of officers closing the front entrance of the station. Imagine that, 'Do Not Cross' tape around the police station. I had wanted to laugh, but there were too many people around, so I kept a straight face, taking in the horror that was thanks to me.

I had to do it again. I needed to do it again.

My stage was set, and I was the main attraction.

She was sitting at the bar by herself, with several empty shot glasses by her hand. I'd watched her take shot after shot, beer glass after beer glass.

Her movements were beginning to slow, which meant now was my time to pounce. I didn't want her too drunk, otherwise someone would get suspicious when I carried her away.

I slid onto the stool beside her and ordered a beer. The bartender eyed me at first, then asked to see my ID.

The curse of being 23 and looking like I was 3.

I slipped my ID out, passing it to the bartender. He scanned my birthdate and stuck a glass under the tap.

The copper liquid filled to the brim with a thin layer of white foam on top. Belgian white, my favorite. He slid the glass right into my hand, the foam spilling onto my skin, then I turned my body to face hers.

She was already watching me, with bloodshot and glazed brown eyes. Her hair was a coppery red, like a shiny penny.

She looked young, but still an older chick, definitely pushing thirty. Not my type, but she was pretty. I smiled, hoping I could turn on any charm, if I had any. She returned it with a light smile of her own. Looks like I had some.

"What's your name?" I asked, taking a sip of my beer.

"You can call me Veronica, what's yours?" she replied.

She was most certainly lying to me. Well, two could play that game.

"Mason."

"That's a stupid name." she laughed.

Definitely not gonna feel guilty about killing this one.

"You're not the only one to think so." I said, taking a swig of my beer. It was extremely bitter one went down terribly. Must be an IPA.

"I'm sorry, that was mean. I'm just... not in a good place right now."

Ugh, women and their damn problems all the time. Is this why he killed them, to put them out of their misery?

It was a noble cause really. He should be celebrated, revered, instead of hated and feared.

"What's wrong?" I asked, although I didn't really care. I just wanted us out of here already before the bartender memorized any of my features.

"I broke up with my boyfriend." she replied, taking another shot. She asked the bartender to keep them coming, but instead he removed all the glasses and cut her off.