Psycho Killer

[clairecadle]

"I'm so glad you could make it, dear!"
“I didn't exactly have a choice, now, did I?” He looked at me like I was crazy. If only he could understand how awful I truly am.
“There’s always a choice, my love. You chose to pursue me that day, knowing the stories that are told about me and my partners.”
His jaw clenched. He knew I was right. Everyone knew the stories. The stories about me and how I got my title as the Siren.
I was born into a group called the Vikings Cove. A group designed to be portrayed as a small town restaurant, welcoming all to come in with their families to dine, laugh, and enjoy. The truth, though? We were killers. My mother, Regina, being the best of the best. My mother earned her rights as our leader after killing my father. There’s no killing without cause of course. Although, his crimes were not nearly as bad as what we usually kill for. But don't tell that to my mother. He broke her heart. Ripped it out, tore it to pieces. My parents were together for seventeen years before he slept with another woman. Maybe he should have been given a less severe punishment for simply cheating, but when you marry a psycho like Regina Loveland, could he really have expected any less? After she killed him we were treated like royalty by the others.
The Vikings Cove never killed anyone without reason. Our sole purpose as killers was to serve the correct punishments for privileged people who got away with the things they shouldn't have simply because they could pay their way out. We served the justice that the government was too greedy and pathetic to give out. My father was the first to be killed by someone in the group who didn't technically deserve it. That’s when everything went to hell.
I love my mother, more than anything. That doesn't blind me from the fact that she is psychotic. I inherited that from her. Some say I’m worse. People like to say I was born from the devils womb; straight into hell. I don’t mind. I am a woman in a man's world. To be feared is to have power.
Now I stand before a man who has never wronged me. He has been the closest of my men to make me consider that love is possible for a woman like me. He knew who I was. He knew what I was capable of. Yet, he still wanted me. He couldn't help it. I was his drug. His addiction. Addiction is a long dark road. I was the start of this path for him. Now I am his end.
“Why are you doing this, Ruby? What did I do wrong?” I could see the pain in his eyes, hear the begging for forgiveness of whatever he could have done in his voice.
I walked toward him, slowly, and put my hand on his cheek. I circled my thumb over his skin.
“Oh, darling. You didn't do anything wrong.”
“Untie me then Ruby. Please.” He wanted my mercy. He should know better. I have none.
I trailed my fingers down his neck, gripping his throat. “Now where’s the fun in that?”
His face grimaced and I could feel him swallow in fear. The lighting in our motel room is dull. Looking at him I can’t make out all the features on his face. I can hear his heart pounding. He’s afraid. He thinks he knows how his life is going to end. He knows I’ve gotten rid of each of my partners in the same way. He’s different though. He’s special. He’s in for a surprise.
My first lover was Augustus. He came to me when I was eighteen. My father had been dead for almost a year. I was walking through the town, getting some air. I had done my highest kill count that morning, five all at once. I couldn't get the smell of all the blood out of my nose. I heard the sound of their skulls crushing against each other playing in my head over and over. I was looking up at the sky as the sun fell. That’s when he ran into me. A boy, taller than I was, with dark hair and pink cheeks. It was getting colder.
“I’m so sorry, love, I wasn't watching where I was going.”
He had an accent. I loved his accent.
“It’s alright.” I gave him a small smile before I started to return to my walk.
He lightly grabbed my arm, “Let me buy you a drink.”
His eyes were full of hope and confidence. I studied him for a moment. He had green eyes. I’d never met someone who had green eyes. No one other than my father. It took no time at all for me to become completely infatuated with him. I let him buy me a drink.
For eight months, I spent every moment I could with Augustus. He brought me flowers regularly, and he was always asking questions. Too many questions. No one had ever shown this kind of interest in me before. I wasn't sure how to accept it. I let him get too close. He started to see me for who I really was. He knew I tried to hide everything from him. I didn't want his image of me to be tainted by the blood that stained my hands. When he finally learned the truth he tried to look past it. He told me he would go to the ends of the earth to be with me. We could run away, he said. You’d never have to hurt people again. He didn't understand. He didn't understand that I enjoyed it. I like killing. I like watching life leave these soulless bodies. He couldn't understand. He knew too much to stay. He was the start of my obsession. He was the first to meet me in this motel room. He was the first I tied to the chair. He was the first to have his throat cut open by me while I kissed his life away. I looked into those green eyes as his soul slipped out from him and he was nothing but a body. I put him in my car, drove him to the river and dumped him. Just like I did eight more times after that leading me to this moment.
I’m walking around the room, dragging my fingers across the objects I’ve left out. The silver heart locket that I carve the names of my lovers into sits on the nightstand next to the bed. The journal that I’ve written in detail of every moment I’ve killed someone. Those people made me who I am. I will not forget them. The watch my parents gave me when I turned sixteen. A family heirloom, they’d said, passed down to every third generation. What they hadn't told me at the time is every member of my family who has owned this watch has died young. A usually awful and self inflicted death. How fitting. Lastly, I picked up the flowers he brought me. They had fallen on the floor while I had been tying him to the chair.
I feel his eyes on me. He’s watching me. Wondering how much time he has left. Wondering why I haven't started yet. He knows the ritual. He knows I do things quickly. He doesn't understand what's happening.
My head turns when I hear the knock at the door. He jumps in the chair, eyes flashing back and forth between me and the door.
“Who is that?” I hear the panic in his voice.
I drop my eyes to him and smile. “No one, dear.”
I go to the door and look through the peephole. I see no one standing there. Just the box. I open the door quietly and pick it up to bring into the room. It’s a wooden box with a Vikings Cove symbol on it. I bring it to the bed and pull on the latch to open it. Inside is everything I need.
“Ruby, please. I’ll–I’ll do anything, just let me help you.”
“Help me? You can’t help me darling. No one can. I can't change the way I am. I can’t change the excitement I get out of killing. No, you won't help me. It’s too late for that.”
There are tears welling in his eyes. I know there's truth to his words. He would never hurt me. He would never tell a soul what I’ve done if I let him go. He would stay with me till the end of time. That’s why I’m doing the same.
I start pulling things out from the box, placing them around the room. I catch the realization in his voice when he starts yelling at me to stop. Screaming, begging, pleading with me. He doesn't want me to do this. He doesn't want me to go. He’s doing whatever he can to move around in the chair, trying to loosen the ropes so he can get out and stop me. He won't get out of them. I’m getting a headache from his screaming. I set the box down and take three of the sticks out. I put them in his mouth. He’s still screaming, but it’s muffled. He’s crying, full on sobbing. I finish putting everything else where it needs to go.
I position his chair back where it was before he started moving. I sit down in front of him on the bed and look at him. He’s so afraid. I lean forward and kiss his forehead. I pull out the lighter.
“Don’t be afraid, my love. It’s all over now.”
I light the explosives in his mouth and I smile as the life is ripped from my final lover and I follow him into the afterlife.