Chapter 1: Prologue

The street lamp flickered overhead, making the scene before me look superficial in the antipathy it should invoke in me. Each little nuisance of detail expanded within my vision; the color of the gravel below, the color red, how the black leather jacket hugged his upper physique like someone tailored it just for him. The color red. White hands gripping a blue shirt, grasping at it with desperation. 

More red.

A pale and unmoving face with wide and unyielding eyes staring blankly at the night sky, fixed in a grimace that would never fade. 

Red.

A crowbar, gripped in a gloved hand, held close to a jean-clad hip, dripping with red.

And the pool of red blood expanding over the gravel the blue shirt guy lied in, slowly burgeoning in a way that didn’t seem plausible. But his shirt wasn’t blue anymore. It was dark, soaked in his blood, torn in places where the crowbar ripped into.

Then, movement. The dripping crowbar moved, turning with the hand that gripped it; black jacket shining under the flickering lamp. Then eyes as blue as the dark sea peered into mine, churning my heart like waves beating into a rocky cliff side.

He took a step. Black combat boots splashed into the red pool below, but it didn’t deter his steadfast gait toward me. Resolve was visible in every footfall.

And when he stopped where I lay vulnerable on the ground, peering down at me with a face covered by a skull face mask, I gazed back unblinkingly.

His head cocked to the side, his eyes searching mine. “I thought you’d be scared.” His voice wasn’t what I had imagined. It was deeper, darker. Gravelly.

“I suppose I should be,” I said, sounding hoarse even to my ears.

“You suppose,” he repeated, the words sounding stiff. He swung the crowbar up until it rested on his shoulder, the blood flicking off it and onto the ground in front of me. Then, he squatted to my level, knees up, with his left hand resting against his left knee. He leaned forward, his face nearing mine and our eyes locked intimately, but the situation was anything but.

Then, he leaned back, reaching his free hand up to pull his mask down, revealing his lips that were already perked up in a smile.

And what he revealed to me next brought immediate trepidation. A cold grasp caressing my very spin, immobilizing me from moving from my place on the gravel.

He swung the crowbar forward and off his shoulder, bringing it in front of him where he stuck his tongue out and licked the blood off it, his eyes illuminating his excitement. His smile grew, festering as he ran his bloodied tongue over his white teeth, accentuating the unnaturally long and sharp look of his canine teeth.

“Are you scared now?”

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