Perfect Night to Kill | Teen Ink

Perfect Night to Kill

March 1, 2011
By B.R.Nack SILVER, Grand Junction, Colorado
B.R.Nack SILVER, Grand Junction, Colorado
5 articles 0 photos 47 comments

Favorite Quote:
“...Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.”
--Stephen King

The steely black night twinkled with stars and glowed with the light of the full moon-a perfect setting to kill. A slight breeze encouraged the trees to whisper contentedly, giving the atmosphere a peaceful, slightly bubbly mood.

What a wonderful night to die, she thought cheerfully as she stole silently through the shadows of the mildly warm night.

She took in a deep breath. The only thing that could possibly make such a night better was rain. Rain to wash his filthy blood away and clear the air of his horror filled screams. Maybe rain would come, maybe it wouldn’t-but she could do without it. Tonight, he must die.

She was almost upon her destination and her nerves were dancing with anticipation to the rhythm of her pounding heart. She let out a quiet, menacing chuckle. She had been looking forward to killing this b****** for such a long time, now her thirst would finally be quenched.

She stopped outside his house and stared for a moment. Then, with a smile, she snuck up to what she knew to be his bedroom window. She sighed in attempt to calm her haywire nerves; it was hardly worth the effort. She slid open his window with surprising ease; the foolish boy made everything much too simple for her. It would seem as if he would be a little bit more worried about this happening-or maybe he just that naïve and stupid, unaware of his surroundings.

Yes, she decided, he’s just stupid. Well, the world won’t miss him too much then, we could stand to get rid of a few stupid people.

As these thoughts accumulated she slipped through his window and tip-toed to the bed in which he lie, sleeping peacefully-and unsuspecting of his upcoming doom.

She stood by his bedside watching him sleep for a few moments, waiting for the perfect moment to arrive. She stood patiently, hovering by his bed, blending with the shadows cast by whatever crap he had stacked in his bedroom.

She could feel the dagger resting against her leg in the left pocket of her jeans as she turned to the window which she had entered the b******’s domain. She watched a cloud roll across the moon and shut out its light. The world flickered into a silent abyss as dark as the depths of her heart and soul-but only for a moment…

Lightning split the sky and thunder roared through the silence of the night and rain pattered down, sending the approval of the Gods to her twisted task.

Her smile brimming with monstrosity and her eyes glinting with her terrible intentions she prepared her knife. Lightning crashed and she swiftly brought her dagger down and shoved it into his stomach. Thunder drowned out his piercing scream along with the help of the pouring rain.

He looked at her with eyes full of trepidation, pain, confusion and hopelessness. She took in as much as she could; enjoying every moment.

With a malicious laugh she yanked out the dagger from his stomach as another flash of lightning split the sky soon followed by a crash of thunder just in time to snuff out his agonizing cry.

She was preparing to stab him once more but hesitated. His punishment was missing something; there was a void that needed to be filled before she could be satisfied with her blood-thirsty revenge. He was in pain, he was terrified, and he knew he was going to die. However, she had failed to torture him, make him fear her and not just the death wish that had accompanied her. She wanted to see in his eyes that he knew his wrong and the realization that he was too late to make it right. He could never make this right-in her eyes he would always be wrong and she would never-and could never-forgive the deed he had so foolishly done. No matter who was willing to forgive him, even his target, she could not. His crime was one worthy of death, and since no one else was willing to give him his fitting punishment, she must. But his punishment must fit his crime-and death was nowhere near enough. No, he must be terrified, he must die in pain. He must die slow.

As these thoughts whirled through her revenge crazed mind she glanced down at the now blood-stained dagger she held in her hands. It was drenched in his tainted blood.

Perfect, she thought with a wry smile.

She shifted her gaze from the dagger to meet his terror flooded eyes. But she did not merely look into his eyes-she let her glare shoot to his soul, intent on burning it-damning him to Hell where torture may greet him.

Her eyes still locked on his trapped and fear-flooded soul she lifted the blood-stained dagger to her lips. Confusion flashed through his eyes but was almost immediately replaced with utter realization that twisted his already horror filled features. She allowed a demented smile to spread across her face as she flicked out her tongue and licked the blood from the flat part of the blade.

He gasped with disgust and a new type of fear hung on his features. Exactly what she wanted.

Now she could kill him-now he knew. He had worked around his stupidity and fear and had finally realized who she was and why she had come to him tonight; she could see it in his face-he knew.

“You are not forgiven,” she growled bitterly through the nasty taste his blood had left in her mouth.

A revolting, pitiful edge pushed its way onto his features. Rage filled her heart and soul upon the stupid, pitiful, helpless creature in front of her and suddenly let all her rage out on it.

Lightning flashed its brightest yet and thunder rolled on forever and masked his cries of pain and misery as she stabbed him over and over until she was satisfied with his fate.

When she had caught her breath once more she looked at the dagger she held in her blood-soaked hands. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. His filthy, pitiful, useless blood was all over her.

Her ears took in the pitter-patter of the rain falling on the thirsty ground. She smiled and hopped out the window and returned to the open arms of the night. The falling rain eagerly washed away the evidence of her deed from sight-except his body; she planned to leave that lying right where it was. She wanted him to be found. She wanted to be caught. She wanted everyone to realize that he deserved every second of the punishment he had received. And they would know-she would make sure of that. She would also make sure that she would not be punished by them for doing what needed to be done.

She was not foolish; taking up this responsibility was not some random folly of hers. She was aware of the consequences that would soon follow- and she was well prepared for them.

But in this moment, she did not fret about the future to come; she just relaxed and enjoyed the rain the Gods had blessed her with on this perfect night to kill.

She fussed with her dress to avoid watching the sad faces around her; but she was also trying to keep herself from looking up at the arrangement at the front of the room.

His casket was, of course, closed. Apparently no one else enjoyed her handiwork. There was an arrangement of bright yellow and orange flowers placed on top of his casket. Although the flowers themselves weren’t too bad, she despised both colors.

This, however, didn’t really matter all that much to her for she would not have to deal with them much longer. Plus they weren’t what she was avoiding. It was his picture. No, she was not feeling guilt-she just didn’t want to remember him happy; and he happened to be grinning like a fool in the picture they had put on display. She did not want that image of him in her mind, she much rather preferred the memory of his last moments.

So she sat, surrounded by all the people who loved him, sad and mourning, dressed in black, and bawling like infants.

She had refused to wear black to his funeral. This was not a heartbreaking incident to her and she did not consider black a ‘sad’ color. So she had worn a white dress; more like something to be expected at a wedding and not a funeral. She stood out like a sore thumb, but she didn’t mind for soon it would not matter.

Movement towards the front of the room caught her attention; she looked up and saw the pastor. She watched him walk somberly up to the podium that was slightly to the left of the closed casket. All of the mourners went into a death-like silence – although; his death would not be one to compare this silence to. ?

He cleared his throat and looked nervously down at the podium. He was uncomfortable being surrounded by all of these heartbroken people. They all saw it as a tragedy-a void that would forever be empty and barren in their hearts. He saw it as a terrible occurrence that would wear off after a few weeks or so. She saw it as the smartest thing she’d ever done. Their vision was just too blurred by their tears to see the beauty of the situation.

As the pastor began to speak, she pretended to listen-to give a damn about what he was saying. She knew he was just reading off of cards he was given, he didn’t really know who he was talking about.

However, everyone else seemed completely oblivious to the fact that all the crap flying out of his mouth was complete bull. It would have been even if he happened to actually know the boy lying in the casket next to him.

As these thoughts were finishing themselves up, her ears perked up at a few of the pastor’s words, “No one is aware of the reason behind this handsome young life’s end, but you just have to wonder what horrible creature could have possibly brought themselves to do such a vulgar thing to such a beautiful life.”

That was her cue. She stood up and the half of the attendance that wasn’t drowning in a steady stream of snot and tears turned their saddened expressions to her.

“I do,” she said simply.

It was as if someone had flipped a switch and turned off all of the sound in the room. Everyone stared at her in dead silence, looking as if they had just seen a ghost.

In a shocked stutter the pastor replied, breaking the silence that filled the room, “Ex-Excuse me?”

“I know who and why,” she answered coolly and calmly, forcing back the satisfied smile that was tugging at the corners of her lips.

She stooped down under the pew she had been seated and came out with a crowbar. She brushed back the shocked silence as she walked to the front of the crowded room to his casket.

She stood and stared at the casket for a few moments, thinking about turning back. She didn’t have to do it, she really wanted to, but she didn’t have to.

She turned to the sea of dumbstruck mourners. She found her decision within their tear-filled eyes. She smiled and turned back to face the casket which held his mangled body.

Her eyes scanned for a spot that looked weak enough to place her crowbar and force his casket open. She saw a spot that had been made uneven and came out with a dent leaving an opening big enough to put the crowbar and force open the casket which held his ugly body.

She was not bothered as she was forcing his casket open, the torn hearts were curious to see what had become of the boy they once thought they knew.

The casket lid finally flung open and she looked once again upon the art of which she was so proud. The time had now finally come for her to show it off. She turned to face her awed audience, allowing herself a malicious smile.

She turned back to look upon her artwork. Her malicious smile morphed into a malevolent grin as she gathered enough saliva to spit into his stupid, bloodstained, and still twisted with terror face.

Now that she was completely satisfied with her art, she turned to face her audience with a deep breath, anticipating the task that now lie ahead of her.

“I cannot forgive him for the wrong he committed; though this wrong was not upon me,” she paused for a moment to glance around at all the sad, pitiful faces shifting into confusion, and then continued, “Being unable to forgive him, I had to seek revenge-everyone else was far too blind to see what must be done.”

She turned her gaze scornfully to the pastor and shifted her expression to a glare as she said, “The reason for the end of his pitiful life is not unknown, and I happen to be the horrible creature that ceased his life.”

Gasps rolled throughout the crowd at her sarcastic words and confused expressions turned into disbelief and astonishment.

She paused, allowing her words to soak in, and then added with finality, “If only you had known the things he had done, you would not be so disgusted with me. If only you had known what he did, you would not be so astonished at my actions. If you would open your eyes and wipe off your tears, you would see clearly that he was not who you thought he was all along. He put on a transparent act that you were too preoccupied to see through. Look harder next time, maybe your hearts can be saved of unnecessary pain…”

She watched as confusion crossed some faces while others’ looked as if they might understand what she had just said. A smile spread across her lips-she was satisfied. She had had her fun, and got her job done; now she just needed to add one finishing touch…

She dropped her smile as she stopped down to kneel and toyed with her high-heeled shoe. When she came back up she was holding a silver dagger. Her eyes were hard and heavy.

Someone in the crowd wailed while another screamed; fearful tears ran down the face of several mourners.

Without changing her facial expression she calmly assured them, “My goal is to kill you, just to finish what he so foolishly started. You didn’t expect me to just hand myself over, did you? I am not dense; I have willingly taken on the consequences of my actions.”

When she had finished her monologue, she looked to the pew she had been sitting in. To the right of her spot she found his target. She looked directly into her eyes as she plunged the dagger into her own chest, exactly where her dark heart resided. She watched as his target’s mouth opened in a blood-curdling scream and she smiled as blood spilled out of her struggling heart, staining the white dress that she wore. The crowd gasped as she fell to the floor and lay in the spreading puddle of her crimson revenge.

The author's comments:
I was kind of bored in English class, so I kind of wrote this. Don't worry, I'm not in therapy or anything.

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