Word count: Too small to matter
Note: Will has moved into my head. You guys know me and my fascination for fucked up characters. I couldn't resist.
In My Dreams...
She is typing on her laptop. Her curls are wet from the shower, and she is wearing only a bleached white towel from the hotel bathroom. The TV is running. Anderson Cooper is talking about a string of murders. I recognize them. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m working on the case, or because I’m the killer. Images that shouldn’t be on television fill the screen.
She glances up at the TV. Her fingers still tapping away, and as I come up behind her, she doesn’t notice me. All I can hear is the dripping of the shower, the tapping of the keys, Anderson Cooper’s voice and my breathing as I twist the fingers of my left hand into her wet hair. It’s slippery, but the curls make it easy to twist. She tries to scream, but I don’t let her. My knife cuts deep. It cuts fast. Blood sprays over the computer monitor.
I wake up drenched in sweat. My hands are shaking, and I can taste blood in my mouth from biting my lip.