Christy sat in her car and watched the scene play out before her. While on her way to the weapons shop a car chased erupted on the freeway behind her. She had got off on the next off ramp, and so had the person being chased. She had no choice but to pull over onto the shoulder to let him, and the officers, by.
The driver in the Honda lost control of the car during a turn and was forced to get out and run. The officers stopped as well to get out of their cars. Christy knew this was never a good thing. She hated officers.
The white male ran towards a black truck on the side of the road, in hopes of getting a new ride to get away. Christy saw the .45 glock in his hand, and knew this was not going to end well for him.
The eight officers on the scene had their guns pulled out as well as they slowly approached him. Christy tightly gripped her steeling wheel. She didn’t want to see what was going to happen. She had done some things people may described as horrible, but it was to individuals who deserved it. Individuals who thrived on making other people lifes hell with their smug attitude and crude comments. This gentleman was on the run; he was not insulting people or laughing at their flaws.
The driver of the truck locked his door, and refused to let the stranger in. Frustrated, the runner fired his gun at the driver’s door, wounding the bystander in the processed. As a killer herself, she knew he had not purposely harmed this man. Emotions had taken over and he pulled the trigger. She understood, though she knew the officers would not. They did not live their lifes like regular people. They were all about the brain and no heart.
The officers raised their weapons and yelled their orders. “Freeze!” “Drop you weapon!”
The runner rubbed his head in thought. His body tensed and Christy could sense his hostility. He was looking at a long list of charges; attempted murder, fleeing, speeding, resisting arrest, gun charges, and a number of others. He must of known he was caught and going away for a number of years. His car was disabled, and he was stuck on the overpass. He had nowhere left to run.
Out of options, he turned. Christy watched as he raised his gun at the officers. An eager officer pulled his trigger on the runner, and two others’ quickly followed suit. The runner’s body rocked as the bullets hit him. it was over in a matter of seconds, and the runner laid dead in the middle of the road. Blood leaked from his torso and head. Christy felt for him.
She looked at the officer who had first pulled his trigger. Unlike the others, who went to check on the wounded bystander and runner, he stayed on the sideline. She saw a faint smile on his lips, and a glint of pride in his brown eyes. He was glad he had killed this desperate man on the run. His hand hovered over the handle of his gun that was not holstered. In his mind she knew he was reliving it.
Christy’s eyes narrowed on him, as anger filled her. This officer was just like all the others that visited her chamber of pain. Smug, arrogant, and thrived on others flaws. She took a calming breath as she decided her next move. She would continue on to the weapons shop to get something special for this Minster officer, and then she would track her prey.
It was easy for Christy to take the officer when he was off duty. Her look of innocent never failed her. She dropped him in a room in her basement, and went upstairs to watch his reaction on the cameras. She felt like making him suffer a little before she took his life.
Walter woke up in a strange room. The stint of decay hit him first. He sat upright as fear and alarm coursed through him.
His gun was missing. “Shit,” he mumbled. The floor and walls were stained with blood. Chains and blades hung on the walls. He was in a place of torment.
Slowly, he became aware of the body lying against the wall. It was the source of the stint. Bale crept up his throat as he walked towards it. The smell told him it was too late to help this person, but the way they died may give him a hint of what awaited him.
The body was naked. It was a woman whose mouth had been sewed shut. He recognized her face; this was Joyce Riggs, the missing sales clerk from the local mall. Judging from her wounds Walter would say she died from the cutthroat after weeks of salvation. The killer showed her mercy in the end.
“Crazy bastard!” he yelled, knowing that serial killers loved to feed on the fear of their victims. “I will arrest you!”
“Then come find me,” a voice softly said, from the tiny speakers on the wall.
He was surprised to surprise to hear it was a woman who taunted him. He eyed the speakers. “You will go to jail.”
Laughter rolled out them. She was enjoying his threats. “You’re cute.”
Anger bubbled inside of him as his hands curled into fists. “Damn you woman, you will pay for this!” The cold laughter came again.
There were three doors in this room. He found one was locked. The second door opened to a narrow hallway that had spikes sticking out of the wall. When he took a step he found there was a level in the floor that was triggered when he stepped on it, that caused the walls to start to move towards each other. He would be dead before he had a chance to make it through.
The third and final door was not much more pleasure than the last one, except it offered a way out. The small hall had wire criss-crossing throughout it. On closer examination he found the barbwire was razor sharp.
“Fucking hell,” he shook his head. He didn’t want to cross this but there was no other way out. He stripped out of his loose t-shirt so it wouldn’t get stuck on the barbwire. It was a difficult task. He got cut a number of times, but he made it through. He was relieved that the door on the other side of the hall from hell was unlocked.
“Thank God,” he whispered as he turned the knob. He was one step closer to catching this sicko.
He froze when he was faced with a petit woman. She wore dark liner and red lipstick. She had on blue caprices and a white tank-top. She was very attractive. “Found me,” she said with a smirk. “Congratulations.” She lifted her hand to reveal a bottle. She sprayed a mist in his face to knock him out.
Walter woke up a second time this day. He was in another room, strapped to a table. The woman stared down at him. Her eyes were cold and heartless. “Who are you?” he asked, as he tugged at his restrains. He was hoping he could pull them loose.
“Death.” She inclined her head in thought. “Just like you.”
“I’m a cop,” he corrected. There was a part of him that wanted to get lost in the fear he felt, but he couldn’t. He knew he would die if he did that.
She gave him a single nod. ‘Oh yes; a cop.” Her curved brows slid up with amusement. “I forgot. You didn’t appear to be a cop when you gunned down that man this morning.”
He froze. He had forgot that had happened this morning. “That junkie deserved to die.
Rage flared in her eyes. She lifted a hatchet and slammed its blade into his shoulder. He cried out in horror and pain. “That junkie was a man in need of help, not a bullet! That junkie was running from his problems and life!” She hacked him again, driving the blade deep within his flesh. “That junkie was a victim of this blind, heartless society that is ran by men like you! Men who sees a hurting man,” she swung her hatchet again. “As nothing more than a junkie!” She brought the hatchet down on the base of his neck.
Walter choked on his blood as he struggled to breath.
Disgust distorted her face. She bent down to whisper in his ear. “That junkie had a family.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “He may have been lost in a world of drugs, and blinded by pain and despair but he did not deserve to die by your gun, alone in the road.” She hacked into Walter’s face, determined to end his life. The blade ripped the eyeball from its socket. “He did not deserve to believe WE did not love him! He deserved the world.” Hack. “He deserved to grow old and be happy!” Hack. “And now You,” hack. “And your kind will pay for taking that from him!” Hack. “You took my Brother from Me!” Tears ran down her face as she hacked into him. “You stole my happiness!” Hack. Hack. Hack. “I hate you all. I WILL KILL YOU ALL!!” She dropped the hatchet, feeling numb inside
Walter’s face was gone. Blood and gore covered her brother’s white wife beater. Christy wasn’t one to get emotional attached to things. She wasn’t the one to cry, but her heart hurt.
That junkie was no junkie at all; he was her life. The only person who understood her and allowed her to be herself. Now she was unleashed; thrown into the world filled with hurt, pain, and rage. People like Walter would die. The people who laughed at other people’s flaws and made their life’s hell would suffer. Christy would hurt them all; and bring them to her chamber of pain. The beast within her would be released. Until now she only took a few souls, but thanks to Walter, she would take them all.