Sweetly Morbid (Angels of Death)

Beginnings (Part III)

A/N: This chapter should be re-named into 'Character Development Part I' instead xD Its a bit short but I had so much fun writing it. I hope you have fun reading, enjoy!

XxX

Zack blinked once, twice, before letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Ray, what's going on?"

Rachel stood up to refill the bucket with clean water, "We're on the run, that's what's going on."

The killer glared pointedly at the beaten up guy sitting on a corner, "I get that, but why rely on him?"

"I needed someone to carry you, and to drive us back home. He was the only one I could use."

"Yeah but how did you do it?"

"I threatened him, pretty much."

"With what?"

"My gun."

"You have a gun?!"

"Of course, Zack."

"Since when?"

"I don't remember."

"Damn it, Ray! What are you so mad about?!" The killer finally snapped. After spending so much time together, he could tell when Rachel got mad about something. One time, (he remembered clearly-- and he swore to never make the same mistake again) it was a stormy night and Zack had been too bored, too tired to actually do anything but sleep around. Stressed out and completely pissed off (most likely due to his lack of murder) he decided to get rid of his frustration by breaking things... of course, things that weren't of value to Rachel.

He learned to respect her, at some point. Anyway, she had been reading a book and the serial killer took the liberty to grab a random piece of dusty furniture. Obviously, what followed later was hysterical laughter and noisy ruckus.

The blonde hadn't been happy, in fact, she had been (deep down, of course) furious, despite her usual poker face.

Zack had suffered through two weeks of one-sided responses, moodiness, complete sarcasm and disgusting, vegetable-only meals. Not to mention, lack of his precious doctor potato chips in the cupboard.

"Please avoid destroying our house from now on." She had said, clearly, so he could understand.

He knew better than to anger her, he would miss her smiles.

So he had to know what got her pissed this time around, no matter what.

"Answer me, Ray." He insisted, impatiently.

The blonde finished filling the bucket and sat next to Zack; her gaze focused elsewhere. For some reason their plain, stained wall seemed a thousand times more interesting than a deadly serial killer covered in bandages.

"Did you regain your memories, Zack?" She asked, softly.

Now this caught him slightly off-guard, but he wouldn't lie, he had no reason to.

"Not all of them but... I remember parts."

She nodded absent-mindedly, trying to form the right words without sounding too direct.

"Okay, can you tell me what you remember?"

Thinking about it; all Zack really remembered was witnessing a drunk couple fuck in a back alley and some random middle-aged guy who knew kung-fu.

Still, he decided to tell her about his dream anyway, save for a few parts like... let's say... his rather embarassing confession regarding her future death.