Even Serial Killers Get Lonely (O/O Closed)

(Lmaoo its all good, I don’t know too much either)

Vaughn looked back down at his hands once she has stepped away. His mind flashed back to how he had been let into the house. The wife and the child were dead when he had gotten there. His heart had ached in such a painful way at the sight, one that had caused another further flashback. But he thought of his his hands had been on the larger man’s throat, strangling him. But the man was stronger than him, just abaout throwing him acorss the room with one shove. That was how he got those injuries to his face- when he crashed into a coffee table in the living room. He snapped out of it when the bartender came back. Once again, he didn’t let his eyes wander her figure. “Thank you. That’ll be all,” he responded, picking up the glass.

Vaughn wondered why the bartender stook around, just staring him over. It made him shift as he looked away, taking a quick sip from his glass. When he looked back at her, there was a shadowy, menacing figure behind her. Of course, it wasn’t real. Just a figment of his imagination. But that didn’t matter. It still made him tense. Made his lips part as if he was thinking about warning her. But he bit his tongue. It wasn’t real. The figure was completely black, save for a mouth full of razor sharp teeth and long clawed hands. He blinked a few time, registering her question before realizing she must mean his face. “I’m alright. Had a kickboxing spar today,” he responded smoothly. He found himself to be a very good lier.

Vaughn didn’t like all the questions. It made him uncomfortable, made the whisoers stir. The figure gave a devilish, fanged grin. What now, Finley? it hissed, thought it’s mouth didn’t move. Can’t handle it? You’re going to get caught in a lie sooner or later. What about the blood? If she saw that, things might get suspicious. Can’t have you getting us killed because of a pretty woman it continued, it’s shadowy fingers appearing to him like they were stroking through her hair. “It’s a good way to relieve stress. Thought it would be interesting,” he said in response, taking a longer drink this time.

(Yeah, it’s a pretty creepy disease)

Vaughn continued to watch the figure that was leaning just over her shoulder. It was hard to ignore it’s whispers, but he knew he had to. He looked back at her face, now. “It’s been alright so far. Good for the stress thing, I suppose. It’s enjoyable for me.” Ah, I knew you loved it. The thrill of the kill. Like father like son right? the figure snickered. He clenched a fist under the bar and quickly downed most of his drink.

Vaughn hadn’t even cracked a smile. His expression stayed serious and emotionless. He didn’t mind the wounds. Never had minded them too much. He thought it best not to accept help from any sorr of stranger either. “No thank you, I’ll br fine,” he told her slowly.

Vaughn had simply nodded his head in response to her question. He was pleased the conversation was over, relieved he could sit in silence and sip his drink. The figure had vanished once she left, or so he thought. He glanced up at a nearby mirror, only to see it standing behind him, its hand on his shoulder. A shudder ean through him as he downed the rest of the drink. It burned his throat badly, but he would put up with it.

Vaughn, on the other hand, was set on staying as far away from the curious bartender. While he could made up little scenarios in his mind of slipping back to her place, hands grabbing at clothes and skin. His eyes flicked to her face, and he idly wondered if her lips would taste as sweet as they appeared. But he ripped his gaze away and finished off his drink. That was dangerous. Those desires were dangerous in his situation. His eyes flicked up to a TV where the news was on. *Local man, Mark Roberts, was found dead around 3 hours ago. Police say that it looked like a case of assault. We have not been informed if police think this is the work of the local serial killer, but as the man was a registered sex offender, it is assumed so.”

Vaughn clenched his jaw as the woman continued to speak. “Witnesses caught a glimpse of the killer in all black. They are identified as a slim, tall white male. That was all that the police would give us at the moment.” He turned his head away afted a photo of the man was shown, it being an old mugshot. He tilted his head down, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment as he heard a whisper in his ear. Look at that, Finley. Pretty girl thinks you’re some sort of hero it snickered, and he resisted the urge to smack at the space where it would be like he might do in private. He opened his eyes and looked back up, motioning for the bartender so he could get his glass refilled.

Vaughn had waited for a moment, brushing his hair back a bit as he watched the female move. He licked his lips slowly as she filled his glass, glancing away from her face and to the liquor. He knew he was something like an alcoholic. He could get drunk every night if given the chance to. It helped drown out the whispers. He thanked the female for the drink, and promptly took a sip.

Vaughn had glanced back at her when she seemed to linger for a moment. There was a tension there. He could just feel it lingering in the air. Was she having the same scandalous thoughts he was having when he would glance at her? How perfect would that turn out. Maybe he could have a bit of fun. He sure could use a bit of company. He would just have to always sugget going to their place and make up excuses for why he would leave. After a few minutes, he had downed his drink. That would be enough. His muscles ached from the struggle, and all he craved was sleep. He took out a pen, clicking it open and scribbling a note down onto a small napkin that said: Give me a call sometime. -V.F. as well as his phone number. He decided he would include the initials. He would tell her his name later. He set the money that he owed down under the empty glass, as well as a tip before he stood up, ducking his head as he slipped from the bar.

(How about after work?)

By the time the female had gotten off of work and was calling Vaughn, he was back at the gas station. He had pushed open the glass doors and walked through the mesys isles over to where the main counter was. He went around to the back of it and sank into a sit in a desk chair, looking around the dark store. His eyes adjusted after a moment. It would be too risky to turn the lights on at night. He relaxed in the chair for a minute before getting uo ad going into the back room that was behind the counter. Back there was a few shelves, a bathroom which had a shower, thankfully, and a cot. He undressed, changing into a tshirt and a pair of sweats before he sat down on the cot. As he did so, he heard his phone ring. He picked it up and answered it. “Hello?” He asked, still having the same roughness in his tone even over the phone.

Vaughn recognized the female’s voice. She was calling is soon. He had guessed it was a.. client. He preffered to say that over abuse victim or something like that. Thanks to an old therapist of his, when woman would come to tell about what was happening, they would be asked if they would like help from him. So far, most have said yes after a few days of thought. “Ah, I see. Just get off work?” He asked. He stood up from the cot and walked out into the main area to snag a random granola bar from one of the shelves.

Vaughn listened to her closely, phone tucked between the crook of his neck and shoulder to be near to his ear as he opened the granola bar. “Well, that must be nice, then,” he commented about her getting off early. He wondered what having an actual job would be like. He thought he might like it. At least there would be less likely of a chance of him getting hurt or killed. But that wasn’t possible. He couldn’t go back now. The world needed to be cleansed of those evil men. “I never caught your name,” he spoke up after a quick moment of silence, walking back into the back room to sit on the cot.