1 ʬpɾοLοguεʬ

A woman. 

A woman.

A blonde haired-woman was running away from the intruder, with blood pouring out of her lower left torso out from her white pinkish nightgown, she tries to stop the bleeding from going through her delicate fingers but couldn't because it still left some trails of crimson blood on the yellow patterned carpet. The shadow kept lurking and slowly walks in his heavy steps while whistling a tune out loud by one flick of a finger, the lights all over the place had just turned off.

A sharp edge of a single kitchen knife is being scrapped on the beige wall, pictures hanging on as decoration, ornaments of furniture had been added, and one single vase has been planted with water as old white daisies have been drained as petals fell slowly. Still, on the run around for a hiding spot, the woman gets inside a bedroom while nervously trying locking only to find out that she hyperventilates immediately and tears fall from her hazel eyes.

Cowardly, runs inside a coat closet and closes it, leaving the peek of the closet door open so she can see if the killer is coming to find her; However, the creaking sound of the door opens slowly as the killer's heavy footsteps walk around the area and slowly after a few minutes, the serial killer "leaves" the room and nothing has happened. A sigh of relief escaped her quivering lips, caught his attention; Within a second the closet door opens widely to reveal a man wearing a black hospital mask, dark sunglasses, wearing a black cap over his head, black skinny jeans, and wearing combat boots. The serial killer is heavily armed and is well prepared for such actions his victim is trying to do to escape his gloved grasp and oh how thrilling it is for his victim to be frightened by his stature.

He grabs her by her blonde hair, his sunglasses met with her hazel ones as a reflection that shows how terrified she is of the serial killer; Glares inwardly at her in silence, only making her back shiver frighteningly, tears continue falling and her lips began shaking and quivering but didn't say anything until, the woman began screaming in his face for dear life as she kept on kicking with so much effort to get away but is too weak to try anything when she starts to feel lightheaded from the killer, who knocks her out cold and drags her.

Down with heavy footsteps echoing the hallway of the house, with an already unconscious victim out the shadow holds her ankles by sliding her downstairs, making her hit the skull which caused it to bleed drops of blood, and finally, making his way into the ordinary living room.

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the music continues playing in the background, he quietly sits down on the sofa while humming its tune like an old song...

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The woman slowly awakens from the blow she got from the killer, a groan escape from her rosy pale lips while she moves but unfortunately, for her wrists, her stomach & ankles were bounded tightly around the wooden chair with leather ropes tied up in one with the wooden chair; The Serial Killer, however, sat down across the front of his victim while the woman instantly begins hyperventilating with her face written in fear as tears began forming on her smooth cheeks almost covered in blooded handprints on both sides.

"What do you want? You want my money, I-I-I I'll g-give you my body t-t-too,  j-j-just d-don't-t kill me?!?" The woman cried and kept on begging for him to let her go, with big hazel eyes staring in horror at the shadow man, she doubly didn't realize why someone would want an attempt to kill her, "W-W-W-W-Wait! Y-You're..Oh, God! T-The Psychopath, n-n-no! You can't be-" "I assure you will have the best sleep of your life." Without showing sentiments for his victim, The Psychopath stabs the heart of his victim, any remorse or empathy has been removed from his cold heart that he resumes killing her over...over...over...ever so slightly, he stops stabbing the poor woman who's now laying on the floor while the crimson color red of fresh blood turns into a pool around her body with the soft white carpet left bloodstains where she lays motionless and pale as her eyes widen by the stabbing and on her last breath, the words from the Psychopath was all a blur because of how much and at last, she dies quietly.

"No one...will know about me...he pauses his words for a long moment as memories of his past came back haunting him once more, because he despite getting enraged even more without hesitating to kill his victim over & over again, scaring his arm with his long knife he had gotten from his pocket while screaming in the pleasure of deaths: "or you, Josette. We had our relationship in secret, everything was going perfect until you betrayed me to another man; Now now~ my dear, you must be tired *tsk* *tsk* Such a shame that no one will ever know the truth behind gentlemen like me...adieu." Bids to his victim's body a farewell now turns away to open the front door and locks it with a tight click.

With that, the Psychopath escapes, leaving no evidence or any trace of him being the murderer of Josette Weston.

But it was just the beginning...

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prologue finished~