Rolling a One (1) on Seduction

Nyello. I have returned. With a new story. That I wrote in like, 3 hours. During school.

Okay so this entire thing is trash. There's no other word for it. This is pure trash. But I've had this idea stuck in my head for days now and it wasn't going away so I wrote it.

So, yeah. Here's this thing.

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Shoot shoot shoot shoot- Hide! Gotta hide!

The young man dived behind a large dumpster, easily hidden from plain view. He crawled even further, trying to make himself almost disappear, on the off chance (or was it really that low) that somebody would look behind it. Once he'd quietly moved out of plain sight, he took the chance to breathe, finally catching his breath for the first time in minutes, but what felt closer to hours.

This is what he gets for trying to take a shortcut home. He didn't want to deal with the crowd on the streets, so he'd thought he could just slip through the alleys real quick-he'd done it a couple times before, so he knew where he was going, and he knew not to stay in them very long, no matter how safe it may seem.

Today, however, wasn't one of those lucky days where he can just slip through in a matter of minutes. He'd heard a deep, gravelly voice around the corner of a bend, and immediately knew that if he didn't hide, he'd be killed immediately. He didn't bother to check what they looked like, what they'd said, or even to call the police. There was no running if a killer spots you. You'd die. The police would arrive much too late to do anything.

So, that's how he ended up in this position. Hidden behind a dumpster in the alleys from an unseen, but definitely dangerous, threat. Fortunately, or most likely, not, there was a small crack between the dumpster, just thick enough for him to see through without anybody noticing him. So, what else was there to do but look through it?

He didn't have to wait long for anything to happen. Not even five minutes later, a young woman, probably around the same age as him, came stumbling into the alley. She seemed to realize the offputting mood, the slight tension in the air that something bad is going to happen, judging from the stiffness in her shoulders and how her eyes would dark around everywhere, watching for any sign of movement. But never behind her. Looking behind you meant certain death.

He didn't know if the woman knew her way around the alley, but the nearest exit was at least two more turns and a decent path-more than enough time for a killer to strike and leave before anyone would even know.

And then he heard it.

Whistling.

It wasn't any song that he recognized, but it didn't stop the fact that their dread had just increased tenfold. Whoever was whistling, they were dangerous. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew. His gut was twisting and turning, and he feared he was going to throw up, which would incidentally make a lot of sound and probably sentence him to death.

The woman froze. Whether it was intentional or not, they both knew it was too late for her to run. The person, killer, knew she was already there. He'd reached the bend and turned the corner; he'd seen her. In fact, they're probably hoping she ran, because what's more fun than chasing prey, knowing they're going to die no matter what?

She was dead.

The woman seemed to know that, too, because she shifted nervously waiting for him to reach her. She had a plan in mind, if the calm and collected face she'd put on said anything.

And finally, the killer stopped, only a couple feet from her. He was tall, easily looming over her. Red pants and a brown jacket, both covered with dried on blood. He had black hair and bandages covering his body, only adding to his terrifying look. This person, if they were even human, was a predator. A feral beast, who gets a thrill from chasing prey and watching they struggle for their life. Untamable, unstoppable, and definitely unforgettable.