The serial killer's weakness

Nine

"For the record, your existence was one of the more tolerable ones," I said grabbing my knife from a still bleeding Ximena. I knew better than to think that wound would be enough to drain her body of blood but one couldn't help but hope.
"I think that's a compliment," the albino elaborated, watching the trembling lady before us.
"I'll I-I'll call the cops," Her lips quivered as the processed the words and I could tell she was close to breaking down.
"Oh but sweetheart, how will you do that when you're dead?" A shuddered gasp left her mouth as if those few words had sealed her fate. As far as I was concerned, they had. It will be a pain in the ass not being able to use this place anymore but I can't risk not doing anything about her.
"Knock her down," it was always easier when they were on the floor, that and it fuelled my god complex. For the first time since I had met her, Ximena hesitated. The murderous glint had left her eyes, returning them to their boring milky texture. I suddenly felt disinterested in what we were doing, in Ruth and most importantly Ximena.

"Is there another w-"
"Is there another way?" I mocked, wiping the knife on my jeans, not wanting her blood to intermingle with Ruth's. "No, Ximena, there is not another way, if you don't want to be behind bars, there is only one solution," I delivered a hard blow to Ruth's head with the butt of the knife. A heavy thump echoed off the store's white walls and I was pleased to see she was not unconscious. "Good job Ruth," I praised squatting down beside her.

"But she was nice to me," Tilting my head towards her, I was about to snap something about sentimentality getting people killed when I saw them. The trails running down her face.
"Why are you crying?" I sighed, flipping the knife a few times in my hand. Ruth let out some gurgled words which I ignored, focussed on Ximena.

"It was fine before, I was high on adrenaline and desperate to continue hanging out with you, but I don't want her to be the one to die," She sounded like a child.
"She saw, if we don't dispose of her she'll hand us in," I reasoned, slowly growing impatient.
"I know but-"
"But nothing, she has to die," and with that I delivered a sharp thrust to Ruth's neck...with the knife. Her eyes went wide, her mouth struggling to form words before all signs of life left her face. Blood swelled and spun in her throat like the water in the washing machines she had tended to. Before I could get up, blood began spurting out from the wound like a sprinkler. "Fuck," There was too much blood, I'd never get it out. "I liked this shirt," A strangled sob came from behind me and I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"If you hadn't gotten stabbed, she wouldn't have seen it and she'd be alive,"
"Who was the one that stabbed me?" Her eyes were scrunched up in a glare and her pale cheeks were splotched and splattered with a flushed red. She truly looked ugly in this moment.
"You set out to piss me off," I shrugged, she wasn't going to win this war and she knew it.
"Give me your lighter,"
"Why?" She had become cautious of me, wise.
"Dispose of the evidence," She looked blank for a moment before her lips formed an 'o'.
"You're going to set the store on fire," ten points to Gryffindor.
"Well done, do you want a medal?" The glare's intensity went up a notch.

She surveyed our surroundings for a moment, seeming to be mapping it out. I didn't like the fact that she could do something I couldn't. Even though this aura shit is probably bull, the fact that I she can see them and I can't pisses me off. She nodded to herself before silently pulling out her pouch and extracting her lighter from it. She extended her arm to me and I reached out to take the lighter, but she snatched it away. "What?!" She's disobeying, alarms were going off in my brain, my eyes wandering back to the knife lodged in Ruth"s dead throat.

"Describe what she looks like to me," taken back, I looked from the body to her.
"What about that aura shit?" She sighed.
"I can see outlines, not details and colours," She didn't know the colour of blood, didn't know what the light leaving someone's eyes looked like. I suddenly felt very empty, not being able to see my murders perfectly would be maddening.

I did it because it would be a shame for her not to know what my handy work looked like.
"Her hair is greying," right, doesn't know colours, I cleared my throat, "it's short and in a bun, the ends look like they've been dipped in blood. Her face is marred by wrinkles, her eyes are wide and dark, there is no light. Her mouth is open, blood leaking from its corners. The knife is jutting out of her throat, blood coating it and her skin..." I continued to explain Ruth's appearance in as much detail as I could, Ximena's eyes never trailed away from my face.
"Ready?" She nodded and I lit the bits of wood we had found in the back room. They were now splayed around the place in random places. "Let's go," it was difficult to tear my eyes away from the dancing of the red and orange temptress, but if I did it want to be burnt to a crisp I had to leave. The door jingled as we left and I couldn't help but remember every occasion I had ever heard it's chime. "Shit," she cursed from behind me.
"What?" My heart rate increased. Were the police already here?
"I just fixed that bloody air con, what a waste of time," I ignored her for the next ten minutes.