|
wrong place, wrong time.| kirby
*i've neglected some of my other muses so i figured i'd write something for my girl Kirby in time for spooky season. i'm hoping to write more of her soon if anyone is interested in a connection/plot involving her. ok thnks for looking bye
It was easy to reel him in.
It always was.
Kirby’s low-cut shirt hugged her breasts just right, she couldn’t really blame him for staring. “What’s your name?” He’d ask, but she wasn’t dumb enough to give a real answer.
“Tiffany,” she said, manicured hand reaching out to shake his own. She didn’t care enough to ask him for his.
“Haven’t seen you around here before, are you new in town?”
“I guess you could say that,” she replied. “How about you buy me a drink, and we can continue this conversation out back in the alleyway?”
The man happily obliged, ordering her another gin and tonic, and a drink for himself. They spent the night flirting, making half-assed promises of taking each other home and ravishing them the moment they stepped in the door. Well, Kirby’s were half-assed. He seemed pretty genuine about it. Three hours had passed before they finally walked out the door, the man stumbling over his own feet with each step he took. His hands grabbed for Kirby, pinning her to the brick wall of the building, lips messily finding hers.
‘What a terrible kisser,’ she thought as her lips moved with his, trying to make it a little more enjoyable for herself. Though, she never really enjoyed when they shoved their tongues down her throat. Kissing was too intimate for her liking - preferred to keep it to a minimum, at best. She couldn’t risk putting her guard down or feeling vulnerable, but allowed him to continue to kiss her. Slender fingers reached into the waistband of her jeans, a pocket knife hidden under the belt that held them up. Her movements were subtle, he hadn’t suspected a thing - too busy playing tonsil hockey to notice when she flipped the blade.
The jagged edge of the knife punctures the man’s abdomen, just below his stomach.
Blood trickles out of the wound, his hand reaching for the arm that holds the weapon in place, eyes moving to meet the face of his killer. There’s a grin on her lips as she twists the blade, savoring the sound of the man’s pathetic whimpers as he chokes on his blood. A painful melody echoed through the night air as he fought for his life, fading quickly as the knife made a home for itself in another section of his body.
And another.
And another.
There was no motive for this kill - he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or perhaps it was because he was a man, almost all of her kills were (except for her aunt Linda, that bitch had it coming). Maybe she was crazy, or maybe she just needed something to take the edge off - something to ease her anxiety the way drugs once had.
She watched as life drained from his eyes, feeling him slump over a little at a time. It didn’t take long for her to escape his grasp, his body falling to the ground with a THUD. Kirby had done this dance a million times by now; turning the blade on herself, Kirby stabs it into her skin, wincing at the pain that followed. She’d known not to hit any major arteries or organs, known all the ways to make it look like a vicious attack on herself as well. A shaky hand cleans the handle of the blade with an alcohol wipe, before tossing it further down the alley, and a blood curdling scream finds its way out of her lungs.
She falls to the ground in a dramatic effect, really hoping to sell it to the police that she was an innocent victim on this cool September night. A hand clutches her own wound, though it wasn’t nearly as painful her dead partner in crime made it out to be. “Someone help!!” She yelled.
It seemed like forever had passed until someone finally answered her fake calls of attention, a stranger walking down the street running to her side. “What happened??” They’d ask, and she’d wince in pain as they saw the blood.
“We.. We were just trying to have fun, and a man came up and jumped us. He wanted our money, and when we didn’t give it to him, he stabbed me and then… he..” A finger points at the man laying across from her. “He tried to save me.. I think.. I think he’s dead… please help,” words broken through her sobs. She was a good actress when she wanted to be.
When the cops showed up, they questioned Kirby, but found no holes in her story, and she was sent to the hospital to be stitched up, and was released the next day. Admittedly, it wasn’t her best work. It was a sloppy kill, less thought out than her others. She’d have to remember to not be so open next time.
Maybe she was crazy, but at least she hadn’t been caught.
0 Comments
|