• Even now he composes himself as a gentleman. He stands tall before her crumpled body in a freshly clean suit with a matching tie. Laughter and joy can still be seen in his eyes, yet what he is doing many find no pleasure in. Looking down at her he knows she is how he wants her to be, broken and begging silently at his feet, large tears cutting clean tracks down her face. ‘She isn’t so gorgeous anymore’ He thinks. Once her face was alight with happiness, her clothes were clean and a stray paper cut could be seen on her left hand. Now her body was riddled in slices and burns, her once beautiful dress is stained in her blood. She doesn’t know why this is happening. His boot lands a solid kick on her chest. This sends her flying a short distance and crying from the pain. A smile comes to his lips. Her hands and feet are bound and her scarf is knotted tightly around her mouth. She cannot make more than a muffled cry for help. She is nothing to him, yet…he is curious about her. The aura or charisma she has about her is still there, even in the deathly state he forced upon her. Still, somehow, she is presentable and pure. Her eyes still sparkle, though now it is with tears. Her last childish hope still shines. She wishes someone can hear her, will hear her and come running with help. He knows this will not happen. He has been accomplishing his work for long enough to know how not to be seen.

    The room capturing the pair is mostly dark. A faint light brightens the room revealing the desolate and depressing surroundings. She can make out writing what she thinks is a box:
    Smith Construction serial: 20065
    He knows where they are, a warehouse used daily were anybody could find her in the morning when he is finished. He will be gone by then and her life ended. ‘I don’t even know her name’ He smiles at this, it amuses him. Her last moments are going to be worse than anything so far. He likes to go slow; the suffering of women like her is a satisfaction he never passes on. He watches her crawling, trying for an escape. A cruel laugh escapes him.

    In a panic she crawls to the best of her ability, her body sears painfully from her injuries. He watches her crying out for help, pleading for anyone to hear her. He knows no one will, he can barely hear her now, they aren’t loud enough to overcome the steady noise outside. Nevertheless, she will never let that truth damper her blind faith. Calmly he steps towards her, each shoe sounding a light footfall on the cement beneath them. He crouches before her, his voice is like velvet as he says the last words she will ever hear. “Scream if you want to. No one who cares can here you. All those that can aren’t listening,” He watches the fresh tears fall down her checks and a quiet whimper escape her lips…
    “Let your tears fall until the world is flooding. They won’t notice that they’re swimming, that they’re drowning, that they’re falling into an un-waking dream,” He watches her try feebly for an escape…
    “Only you will know it was your fault. Your fault that the world is dying in flames of orange and red. Them fighting amongst themselves. Don’t you know any better? Your silence is encouraging… Escape is pointless, I can always find you. You cannot hide with no one to protect you. No one to care…” Another whimper escapes her lips, he continues.
    “If they cared, why aren’t they looking? Why aren’t they panicking in your absence? Why? Because they haven’t noticed your not there to laugh, to smile, to make some lonely fools heart flutter, only to harshly reject him moments later. Your complete ignorance amuses me…” The last thing she knows is his eyes and the welcoming darkness silencing her final hurt.

    When he leaves the only thing out of place is the body. Nothing except a few well placed clues to tell the story of what happened this night, his identity is again safe. His deed accomplished, he confidently leaves the warehouse. No one alive will ever piece together what he has done, because not enough is ever left behind to tell a complete story, like a puzzle with half the pieces missing. Every scene is always positioned exactly how he wants it. With false assumptions for anyone to discover, leading them down to the wrong conclusions. For this he believes he is something of a hidden genus. No one will ever capture him.