ⓁⓄⒶⒹⒾⓃⒼ...

ⓁⓄⒶⒹⒾⓃⒼ...

ⓁⓄⒶⒹⒾⓃⒼ ⒸⓄⓂⓅⓁⒺⓉⒺ

Rain poured down from the silver-gray sky, drip-drop drip-drop. It seemed to never cease while slamming into the young male's window. Thunder roared in the distance. Lighting flashed shortly after, illuminating the sky with blinding purple and white lights. But the blond didn't care. The rain was....comforting. It washed away bloodstains, scents, and the evidence. He turned towards the board.  "Shit", he thought.  I need to reorganize this. The strings are starting to get confusing. He walked over to his desk, picking up two thumbtacks and some lines of blue and red string. Blue, to signify that the target's still alive, Red, to signify the ones that he had killed. He stared unblinkingly at the picture of the young girl. Then stabbed it with a thumbtack and circled some red string around the thumbtack, allowing a small bit to hang freely. He smirked. The young male continued to do the same to other pictures. Red, blue, red, blue. Overtime, the red was used more frequently. Red, red, red, red. As he was doing this, he giggled quietly to himself as the red string kept running out. It soon converted into a full-on maniacal laughter, he sounded like he was in hysterics. He propped himself on the table and continued to have spurts of laughter. He laughed until he coughed.

Then he stood back to admire his work.  Red strings everywhere. They almost covered up the small amount of blue strings. The blonde sighed contentedly to himself and was about to walk out. The next thing he knew he heard footsteps. Faint, like the person was trying to be quiet, but not faint enough for his highly trained ears to hear. He stayed in place, gently putting his hand over the hilt of his dagger, his eyes narrowing in concentration. He glared at his door, prepared to strike at any given moment. That was, until the footsteps momentarily stopped. It sounded like the person was trying to make a turn. 

And that's when he moved.

He turned 'round sharply and threw his weapon without hesitation. It hit the wall with a satisfying sound. The person easily dodged it, and only then did she come into view. "Hey, Free" It was Chris.

Free breathed a heavy sigh of relief, then walked over to the wall where his dagger had been stuck in.

He swiftly yanked it out, flipped it in a circle, then inserted it back into its sheath on his belt. The blond walked over to his friend. Chris looked at the bulletin board, examining it closely. She turned her over her shoulder and spoke in a husky, but still slightly sweet voice.  "How many today?"  "Four."  "That's three less than usual. You gotta up your game." She seemed to scowl and took out her pistol. "How many left?" the pink haired female said. The pinkette shot at targets nearby, and he flinched slightly at the noise. Bulls eyes in all of them.  "Nine. All tied to the family and friends." He responded, clearly not wanting to be in the conversation.  "Mama's gone, right?" She  said while she threw a cautious look at the blond, who was hunched over a blueprint.  "Yeah, gone today. I'll do some tomorrow, after I get some rest." He yawned out. 

Chris seemed to be disappointed. But let him leave anyway. He did seem tired, after all. Faint gunshots could still be heard as Free slunk into his room. He giggled as he saw all his 'masterpieces'. Bloody corpses were hidden in the corner, beginning to rot. There was a table nearby that had a half-finished bag. That's right. Bags. To have less attention drawn to them, they used the bodies of their victims to make bags, claiming them to be leather. No one ever traced it back to them. People believed them, obviously, since Free had burned the skin to a crisp, and designed them. Right now, he didn't feel like it.

He fell face flat into bed and turned over. His daggers were on his bedside table, in case of an emergency. They gleamed in the light, The blades permanently stained with blood.  Finally, the gunshots stopped, and he heard Chris coming up the stairs and into her room. Free relaxed and sang himself a little song that his teacher, back in elementary school, had sung to all the kids in the class, to help him sleep.

 "𝕷𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖇𝖆𝖗𝖊."

"𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖎𝖙 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗." 

"𝕯𝖔 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊." 

"𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖗𝖊 𝖘𝖆𝖉."

 "𝕿𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖎𝖙 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗." 

"𝕯𝖔 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊." He turned to his side and continued,

"𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖑𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍" 

"𝕿𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖎𝖙 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗"

 "𝕯𝖔 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊" 

"𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖊" 

"𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚'𝖗𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖓𝖊 "

"𝖄𝖔𝖚'𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖞" 

"𝕭𝖊𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖉𝖎𝖉 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊"

 He smirked and laughed to himself. "I don't think she was talking about being a serial killer at the time." He had one more bout of laughter, then leaned over to flick his light off. Free drifted off into a peaceful sleep, dreaming about his next victim.  

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A teary blunette walked slowly towards the cemetery. His mother had died today. There was no funeral, people just came to pay their respects whenever they wanted to. His father had died 3 months ago as well. He remembered his mother's face when she got the news. She was so devastated that she fainted on the spot. She had to be taken to a hospital. He was so scared that he would lose his parents at the same time. He knew they had been murdered, but didn't share it to anyone. At last, he had finally reached his mother's grave. The tears couldn't be stopped now. They endlessly flowed, making a small puddle beneath him, which quickly soaked into the soil. "Mom." He sniffed and wiped his nose. "I-I know, you wouldn't be happy with me crying at your grave, every single day. 'I should move on from the past' You would say. But the fact that, I've now lost both my parents, this-" He gripped his fists as he forced himself to say "Murderer." "I've wanted nothing more than to smell your baking, especially bread." He chuckled at his memory of him stuffing his mom's bread into his mouth while Toko and Nika laughed.

 "And, well, I just want to say I miss you. Hope you are happy with Dad. He would be very happy to see you." At this point, the tears had stopped flowing, because there were no tears left to cry. He stood up, brushed any dust that was on his knees and walked back silently. He was nearing his house when he got an incoming message from Shu. He ignored it. It may have seemed harsh but Valt was doing it for his safety. It seemed like the killer was very interested in his family, and if he or she saw who he was conversing with, they may target him, and that would bring down his world, as if it wasn't already destroyed. He unlocked his house door and opened it. Crying was heard from the inside. He tried to restrain newly-made tears and rushed inside the house. A woman dressed in all black was standing behind a wall. Not to far from Valt's house. She held a phone in her hands. No one could see her face as it had a bandana around her mouth. She breathed upon the phone, slightly lowering her mask to do so. By doing this, she could see the numbers pressed to unlock the phone. She did it easily, but someone had stared for too long. She frowned under her mask. She walked into the shadows until she was right behind the unfortunate man. She pulls him into a sewer, killed him, and flung his limp body into the green water. "Leave no witnesses." She mumbled under her breath She discreetly climbed out and enters the shadows once again. Then ran, her purple hair whipping behind her.