"There is this woman I found a liking to. She is quite strange, just like me. We share a common interest in cinema," I say as I pace around the living room of my stepmother's house. "I can't say with certainty if she's the one, but so far no other person has made me feel like I was talking to someone with a soul."

Only the two of us are in the vast premise hollowed by the warm sunlight coming from the windows. I admire the sight of the stained glass behind the translucent curtains. I purchased the upper half to be painted in the style of Monet. I thought that if my stepmother had to be confined between the same 4 walls, being stuck in a wheelchair, she would at least get to have something nice to stare at. That and the dozens of replicas of Isaac Israëls paintings reminded her of her home country.

It pains me to see what was once a confident and cunning woman in a state like this, but alas her sickness got the better of her. All of the money in the world couldn't prevent her legs from being amputated at the age of 56 due to her severe case of diabetes.

"That's wonderful news, honey..." she says, I can sense a tremor in her voice and as I turn to face her, I notice the fake smile on her worried face.

"You don't look so happy, " I remark, getting closer to her to catch a better look at her expression. With each step I take, I can see her shaking nervously. "Each time I came here, you used to ask me when I was going to get married, remember?"

"That was before..."

"Before what?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Damian, I'm sorry if I did something to upset you. I wasn't the best stepmother, but I did what I could after your father's passing to keep us afloat," she weeps, biting her lips after each sentence. "You know, I always loved you like you were my own. Everything I did was for your sake."

"I believe you."

"Then why are you doing all of this?" She almost shrieks. I can see her eyes watering, but she quickly wipes them before letting any tears stream down her wrinkled face.

Her arrogance doesn't surprise me. Even at this age, she still thinks the world revolves around her. She was a strict but caring parent. Even when she locked me up in the cellar for hours on end with nothing but a pile of textbooks and some paper to take notes, I never once resented her for that. I know she did what she could with what we had and did anything in her power to raise me. If not for her, I probably wouldn't be where I am now and afford this kind of life for us. What I couldn't forgive, however, was her complete lack of understanding of why I'm doing things the way I do them.

"This is not about you Adelina, I have my own reasons. You were a great mother and I appreciate everything you did for me. I might have hated you back then for forcing me to study all the time and not letting me have any friends that might get in the way, but I know you did it because you wanted me to have a successful career. In the end, all of your efforts paid out. I went to a good college and graduated early, patented a drug, the profits of which enabled me to build my company. Now I'm living the dream," I sit next to her, moving a golden lock of hair behind her ear. She flinches from my touch, a gesture that unconsciously makes me smile. "Though I can't help but wonder, whose dream am I living?"

"You always had a love for science and chemistry, all I did was nudge you a bit for you to pursue your passion..." she argues.

"And did you know why I took a liking to chemistry in the first place?" I don't expect a response, but I'd like to see if any gears are shifting in her head. "It's because you refused to provide me with any painting supplies. I had to make my own with whatever household items I had at my disposal. When you found them, you immediately threw them away and I had to start from scratch. "

"I'm sorry Damian," she isn't sorry, just scared. It's always when you're at a disadvantage when you start to reconsider your life choices and hopelessly beg for someone's forgiveness. "You know, I'll do anything for you. I lied to the police because of you, to keep you safe but this is too much. Those people you've killed... when you told me about them I refused to believe at first. You were always such a decent boy..."

"It's all a matter of perception, mother. We only show people what we want them to know about us. The mask you show your friends is different than the one you wear in front of your family, and the one you look at in front of the mirror sometimes doesn't match the face that's underneath. I realize I've been staring at a mask this whole time. The "me" I want the world to see does not match who I am internally. We are all just walking avatars, shifting and changing depending on who's there to observe us."

She looks at me confused. I know she doesn't care about anything I have to say. It was only when I told her that I was a serial killer that she started paying more attention to my personal life.

Even as was a kid, the only thing she ever asked me about was my grades. She didn't want the hard-earned money she spent on private tutors to go to waste. I can't blame her for that, even less after I learned what she went through to earn them. The bruises around her wrists and ankles; her going out late at night and not coming back until early in the morning; and the scent of alcohol mixed with a cologne that disturbed my nose every time she kneeled to hug me after a night out. I was young, not stupid. I came to know from an early age what life does to people when they are poor and desperate.

My biological mother died in a car accident when I was still a baby. I don't have the slightest idea what she looked like and after my father's passing from cancer, the only person I could call family was my father's wife - Adelina. I even took her last name when she became a widow.

It cuts me like a knife every time I think about what our life could have been if things turned out differently, but I long realized that the pain from these emotions served me no purpose. "Grief is just a setback" is what my step-mother used to say. Those were the only words that came out of her mouth during my father's funeral.

I check my watch to see what time it is, then swiftly move to the cabinet where she keeps her medicine. I pick up a vail of insulin and two syringes. In one I prepare her normal dosage and in the other - twice the amount, after which I shuffle them with my back turned against her, so she doesn't know which one is which. Hiding their content in my palms, I cross my arms and walk up to her. She clutches the armrests of her wheelchair, leaning back as if she wants to run away but obviously can't.

"Left or right?" I say calmly,

"Damian, please," she pleads with a tremor on her lower lip. "I don't want to play this game anymore."

"Left or right?" I repeat myself, this time a bit more firmly. "If you get hypoglycemia I'll rush you to the hospital, I promise."

She knew I wouldn't back off and reluctantly pointed to my left hand.

"You choose wisely," I can see the relief wash over her as I give her the correct dosage. "I'd love to continue our chat but I have to go now. I don't want to be late for my date with Rin."

I pick up my jacket from the chair, ready to head out. As I put my hand on the brass handle, I hear my mother ask:

"This girl you are talking about? Is she going to be one of your victims?"

"What makes you say that?" I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. "I would never hurt someone I love."

***

I arrived at the theater at the exact time of our arrangement, but I didn't see her anywhere. She mentioned she lived close to the cinema, so she shouldn't be late and she doesn't strike me as the type to spend hours getting ready. I'll wait another 5 minutes before calling her. I can't help but think back at what my stepmother said. Ever since I told her my little secret, she sees me as a monster. Once you kill one person no matter what the reason behind it is, people assume you'll do it to them next. I wouldn't blame her for thinking that, she doesn't know me. To her, I'm just the means for financial support that subsidizes her extravagant lifestyle. The quiet stepson turned psychopath, seemingly out of nowhere.

The sheer thought of doing anything to cause harm to Rin makes me feel uneasy. I wouldn't allow even a hair to fall off her head, let alone hurt her. Though I can't prevent my mind from conjuring up images of her naked body lying in an empty bathtub, while I'm slowly cutting it bit by bit, which makes me feel disgusted. I'm trying my hardest to shake off these disturbing thoughts. They are like a plague set to my mind like a locust by that old hag.

"Damian?" I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder and turn around to see who it is. It caught me by surprise, usually, I am the one to sneak up to people unnoticed. "Did I scare you?" Rin smiles playfully, putting a strand of her long ebony hair behind her ear.

"Not at all," I smile back, still trying to shake off those awful images. I was a bit caught off guard by her style of clothing. She's wearing a short leather skirt with suspenders, a striped shirt with long sleeves that leave her waist exposed, and striped leggings that reach a little above the knee, held by garters. It's not what I expected a timid girl like her to be wearing outside of work. Not that I'm complaining, it looks good on her, though it does leave little to the imagination.

"Should we get going, I already bought the tickets?" Rin waves them in front of me with glee.

"You seem overly excited for a movie you've seen 8 times already." Hopefully, it's not just because of the movie. "Allow me to get us some popcorn while we wait."

"Sure."

... as I return from the counter my eyes immediately search for Rin, but I don't see her. Not at first at least. I caught a glimpse of her striped shirt before she got surrounded by a group of men.

"Watch where you're going, slut!" I hear one of those imbeciles say in a harsh tone. I recognize the pattern on his jacket, it's from a local biker gang. This combined with the tattoos on his neck and fingers tells me that this is not going to turn out well. "I paid good money for this jacket and you went ahead and ruined it! Are you born with two left legs?"

"Maybe she just wants to get some attention from us," the invertebrate next to him adds. "Look at the way she's dressed. It's like she begging for it."

"I'm sorry for bumping into you and making you spill your drink," Rin says in her usual soft voice with a tinge of worry.

"Don't worry kitty, I'm sure there is some way you can make it up to me," the greasy voice of the imbecile gets lower and I can feel a vein pop as I'm trying to keep my composure.

"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" I intervene, keeping my voice calm. As always I don't let my emotions show. "For what reason did a group of grown men decide to surround a defenseless young girl?"

"Are you her older brother or something?"

"No, but whatever problem you have with her, you can settle it with me." I cross my hands and look him dead in the eye. I don't know if he recognizes who I am or perhaps he's intimidated by my size but he backs away.

"Whatever," he clicked, rolling his eyes and signaling his goons to get going. I thought that would be the end of it but that was until I saw his putrid hand swing down towards Rin's behind and give her a loud smack causing her to jolt. "See you later pumpkin," he adds with a nasty grin.

I was ready to break his neck right then and there, though it would be unwise to cause a scene in a public place. It takes every fiber of my being to hold my wrath and stop myself from doing something stupid that might damage my reputation.

"Just ignore them," Rin tells me, taking my hand and pulling me towards the hallway. Her touch alone is enough to ease the pent-up anger. "This happens all the time. It was my fault anyway."

"That's not the way you talk to a lady. A day will come when someone with a shorter temper than mine will teach them a lesson." I say, tracking the group with the corner of my eye. "If those guys give you trouble, just let me know."

"It's okay. Really. Don't let them get in the way of us having a good time."

We go to the register and the guy there throws us a questioning look. I was already in a bad mood and with the way his eyes darted over to Rin made it even worse.

"May I have your ID miss? This movie is age-restricted." He says, which makes me a bit caught off guard. Somehow up until now, it didn't cross my mind that she might be underaged. I don't pretend to be within the most righteous of people, but even I draw the line when it comes to having a relationship with a minor.

She searches her purse then shows her ID to him and to my relief he lets us in.

"Rin, sorry if I come out as rude but how old are you?" I ask.

"Centuries."

"It's fine if you don't want to tell me." I shrug.

"I'm above 20, why? How old are you?"

"32."

"Really? You look younger."

"And so do you. I was worried you might be a minor."

"Why? We're just friends, aren't we." She tilts her head smiling and I have to admit, that comment caused a tiny bit of ache in my heart, but I'll write it off as her being snarky. She's the only person so far I'm having trouble finding out what they truly mean. Her expression remains the same even when she's being sarcastic.

"Sure..," right before we entered the hall, I noticed the man who dared to lay a finger on my "friend" head towards the bathrooms and I was ready to wipe that disgusting grin off his face. "You go in ahead, I'll need to wash my hands first. I'm a bit of a germaphobe you see. I won't take long, I promise."

"If you say so," she raised an eyebrow. Sometimes I wonder if she too could tell when people were lying.