Prompt: Don't bleed on my floor.

It was really unfortunate that the young woman was a designer. 

Living alone in her small apartment without a pet or a hobby to occupy her time, it was the least she could do to fix up the rickety joint. Out went the cracked granite tabletops and the peeling wallpaper. However, the main point of interest in the remodel was the carpet.

It might have been plush at some time, but the trampling of feet, the general stampede of humanity had worn it down to a thin layer. The backing had started to show in some patches. Stains stuck and stain remover didn't. She loathed the carpet, and as soon as she could she tore it out.

I wish, I really do, that she hadn't torn it out.

Because when she tore out the carpet she revealed the bloodstain. Someone must have put a bit of work into removing the stain from the godforsaken carpet, or maybe it was just masked by years of spilled wine and muddy pawprints. The blood spread like a pool over the floorboards, warping the wood in bubbles and creases of crimson.

She was shocked for a second, gaping at the scar that stretched across her floor. She didn't know what to do, of course. In the end she called the police.

I really wish she didn't call the police.

You see, I had started to like the woman. She was young and enterprising, with a will to live and a thirst for change in the world. She hadn't sunk to ignorance and apathy like the rest of her generation. But unfortunately she was a little too enterprising, because she found the bloodstain.

I'd been watching the house for a while now. I could have easily taken care of the stain a long time ago - sent in a team to replace the boards, maybe a fresh new carpet if I felt like it. The bloodstain was something of a thrill to me, a drug. Knowing it was out there, a clue to my existence. I had terrorized the city for an eternity, and the cops were worn thin searching for me. 

Finally they could have a lead, if only they knew where to find it.

But I was having too much fun watching the hamsters run around in their balls. The city played out beneath my fingers, and I could twist it in any way I wanted. As much as I had taken a liking to the young woman, there was no way she of all people was going to take me down.

I mused with the idea of her death for a while. Perhaps I would lure her to a carpet factory and have her ground to thread, just for the irony of it. Things in the city were morbid enough as it, though, and I didn't want the police snooping around in her remains. She deserved at least that much.

It's amazing how much power a single bullet holds. One scrap of metal can topple nations and start wars. For me, it cleans a bloodstain off my ledger. A little less red.

No more clues. No more lures. Prepare yourself, New York City. I'm coming for you now.