The knife sliced through his skull like butter. Blood leaking and pooling down around where he laid motionless. It was a stark contrast to his marble floor, one which I appreciated. With a sigh, I bend down to look through his pockets finding a little notebook in the back pocket of his trousers. After flipping through a few pages I find the four digit code for the collar and quickly type it in. The collar clattered to the ground and relief flooded through me like the warmth of a good whiskey. After giving the dead man a kick for good measure I grab one of his suit jackets and pop it on. The house seemed different somehow. It wasn't as threatening as I originally thought. So much so I find myself returning to the collection and walking around the innocent women who had had their lives taken for no other reason than who they looked like. Beside each of the women in the cases was a small card highlighting their name, what they did and where they were from. Each one was flawless and well preserved. I went by one by one examining the small cards:
Isabella Foster
27, Essex.
NHS Nurse.
23/08/2015
Alisha Pride
33, London.
Estate Agent
1/05/2017
Victoria Platt
29, Liverpool.
Admin Assistant
15/01/2018
Gina Moore
34, Norwich.
Architect.
8/11/2020
Felicity Chambers
31, Yorkshire.
Copywriter
12/03/2021
They were all so beautiful, and so alike it was eery. The bastard had travelled all over England in search of a woman he had once known, maybe even loved. It was sickening that someone would want to display their murderous hunger like this. I was as crazy as the next homicidal maniac, but displays such as this was not my cup of tea. My art was how I preferred to work. Nobody knew that a hint of red paint was actually a little piece of Paul Morris. The bastard had broken my heart, stole my artwork, my agent, everything that had meant something to me. So he had to go, and now he was, ironically, inside the work that he had stolen. The morbidity of my work (the subject matter) was probably why it was so unpopular. But I was a creator - I create. However, right now I wanted to destroy. The women deserved peace.
Storming back down to grab a box of matches from a drawer in the kitchen I stepped over Hunter's lifeless body. Ignoring him completely as I walked over him on my journey back upstairs. Popping the small box inside my shorts pocket I grab the lion bookend at the side of the bed, before returning to the collection room. This hell was over.
YOU ARE READING
HUNTER
HorrorAngie is the youngest of seven brothers and sisters. While her siblings are getting married and having children, Angie is trying her best to make it through the day. With failed relationships galore, her career in tatters, bills piling up on the ki...
