Selene
The worst thing about my life revolving around my work is that I’m always fucking hungry. Whether it be my next victim, or food, it’s all the same. I shut down the darknet chat on my laptop and try to calm myself. So many motherfuckers on there looking for women and children to abuse and they are all falling into my carefully placed traps.
I watch the world go by out the window of my small apartment, shoveling my burger into my mouth as if it’s my last meal. Ketchup oozes out and drips onto my plate, and I absently swipe it up with my finger and suck it clean.
I close my eyes and smile at the memory of my last kill, his blood covered skin giving me the same feeling as a bright Christmas tree would for a child. I can’t tell you how many people I’ve wiped from the face of the earth and getting vengeance for those who were victimized by worthless pieces of shit.
I am no fucking saint, but someone has to right the wrongs of those who have no remorse for their actions. Hell, I don’t give a shit if they feel remorse or not, there is no forgiveness when it comes to the predators of this world. Nothing pisses me off more than a man who thinks he has the right to touch a woman or a child, just because they smile in their direction or give them a boner, just for looking good.
Everyone knows there's a vigilante running around town, slaying those who prey upon the innocent or vulnerable. I find my kills on the darknet, searching for the sick fucks who answer to my ads of wanting torture, and then let them lead me to all their friends. Obviously, no one knows it's me, because I don’t want the praise or jail time that comes along with it.
I just want those to pay who can’t keep their dicks and hands to themselves.
I’ve been posing as a prostitute for years now, and the amount of devils in disguise I’ve come across is disgusting. I always find the irony in using sex as a weapon to draw them in. Kind of feels like karma and a good way to get revenge.
I make them all suffer, but the ones I stalk who have put their vulgar dicks near a child? Well, I can be a little dramatic with their exits sometimes.
It can take weeks of learning their patterns, and I enjoy the hunt just as much as the kill.
My heart rate spikes with excitement at the thought of my next job. He is a typical rich asshole who thinks his shit doesn’t stink, but he has so many skeletons in his closet and I know I’m going to love making him suffer in the worst way. He loves kids a little too much, and women are never the same after being with him. He is sadistic, and he gets off on their pain and tears.
I’ve been watching him for the last week or two, seeing the most fucked up deals take place, and I hunger to carve him to pieces with my knife. I can see his clean canvas in my mind, becoming mixed with blood and slashes as he cries for mercy. I can’t wait to hear that sick fucker beg.
I’d bathe in his blood for those lost at his hands.
I finish my burger and drop the plate in the sink, wandering into my bedroom to find my notebook. I keep tabs on everyone I’m hunting, burning the papers when I’m done.
I glance over my notes, memorizing as much as I can. He meets with his friends every Wednesday at the bar on Main Street, usually trying to lure some poor woman into his grasp. He has lunch at the Chinese takeout downtown every Thursday and Friday, there he meets another person who just happens to be on my list, and this person is ironically the guy who’s sold him children previously. The last kid was an eight-year-old boy.
I scowl and drop my notebook, running my fingers through my long blonde hair and pull sharply to feel the burn. I can’t lose control of my emotions, no matter how angry my findings make me.
I should have a plan before spraying brain matter and blood everywhere. If I slash him to pieces too quickly, he won’t suffer, and this man needs to suffer badly.
He has a son who I assume is as bad as he is, but I haven’t set my eyes on him just yet.
Daddy dearest ought to go first, then his child trafficking friend is next. I’ll get around to the rich asshole son after that.
I’d already put myself in the rich asshole senior’s path, making sure he noticed me. I bumped into him as he was leaving the Chinese place the other day, pretending to apologize dramatically while reining in my need to gut him right there in the street.
I’m crazy, not stupid.
I made sure to wear the smallest amount of clothing possible, allowing him to steady me from the collision as his eyes took me in. He was interested, which made everything so much easier for the next time I confronted him. He was going to think he’d hit the fucking jackpot when I just happen to be at the Chinese place for lunch before he arrives, and I’ll let him pay for my food because it’s the least the asshole can do.
Men always think you owe them after they do something nice for you, because they’re fucking pigs. They only hold the door open for you so they can check your ass out as you leave, and they can be so self-righteous that they think they’re doing you a favor for letting you choke on their pathetic dicks as if it were a gift just for you.
He’ll be the one choking when I cut his dick off and shove it down his throat for choking the last woman he had to death.
Selene
"Order up for Selene!" The guy behind the counter yells.
I head to the front of the restaurant and take the bag containing my chicken chow mein, smiling at the guy.
"Selene." I hear his voice and goosebumps break out along my skin. "That's a lovely name."
I look up into the piece of shit's nearly black eyes and put on my prettiest smile, "my mother named me after the Greek goddess of the Moon."
"Here you are Henry, same as always." He's handed his lunch.