For the past five years, I've loved him from afar. He became my awakening. My escape.
Being the daughter of a serial killer has never been unicorns and rainbows. I've hidden in the sea of criminals from a young age, waiting to strike at the perfect...
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It's late at night when I step out of Monarch. The breeze is cool. I don't make it to my car when I hear her. I assume she's coming out from either building. Alba is one of the chairmen for both the nightclub and the magazine.
"Jesus Christ, get off of me!"
I look and find her between the two buildings. She's with a man, trying to shake him off. He pushes her into the building. Alba yells in pain. That hurt me. I walk towards them, hurrying but quietly. A long time ago, I mastered this. Bending down, I pick up the rock I had spotted before I moved. We kept it there, just in case. This was a just-in-case situation.
In a swift move, I lower the rock against his head. I hear the satisfactory crunch of the man's skull. On impact, blood sprays against my face. His body goes limp. He crumbles down to the ground. Blood oozed onto the ground where he lays. Being raised by a serial killer has its perks, after all. Ted Bundy could never.
"Are you okay?" I ask Alba.
She nods. "Yes."
There's no fear in her eyes; only gratitude. She knew who I was. She knew who my father was. After all, Alba had been raised in the darkness, too. A darkness that differed from mine, but darkness was still darkness.
"I think we need a girl's night out," Alba suddenly says.
"Definitely," I say. "Tomorrow?"
"Yes, please."
***
I'm sitting in Matthew's office when Crystal, the receptionist, walks in with the Sheriff. I perk up, dragging my attention away from my drawing. From the corner of my eye, I watch Matthew raise from his chair. He walks around his desk.
