Badump. Badump. 

The sound of the beating heart revebrating against the concrete walls was like music to my ears.

Now I know what it means to hold someone's heart in the palm of their hands.

Literally.

I watched, as the heart continues to pump even though it is disconnected from it's previous user. The warmth from the blood that oozed over my hand sent thrills down my whole body. The deep red of the oxygen enriched blood was a sharp contrast against my pale hand.

I smile as I look into eyes that have glazed over. Such pretty eyes.

I want them.

Setting the heart down on the floor, I take out my sewing kit and pick my favorite tool. Holding the thin needle against the dim light that a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling emitted, I thread the silk thread through the eye of the needle.

Now. Shall we begin?

Working underneath the light of the moon, I am able to dismember the girl's doll-like body and rearrange it to my liking. I'd like to consider myself an artist.

I roll her glassy eyeballs in the palm of my hand. I hear it relieves stress. Now.....what to do with all these cockroaches. They keep feeding on my masterpiece, but everyone I find, I keep in a glass jar. Only when they behave do I let them have a snack.

The screaming from upstairs has finally stopped. Good. He was starting to give me a headache. After I get done with him, his head will be the one hurting. Or will it?

Packing up my sewing kit, I place it underneath a loose floor board and then I exit the room. Walking up the wooden stairs, I try to minimalize the creaking sound they make. I should remodel. These bones aren't going to last forever.

When I make it upstairs, I am greeted by a beautiful sight. Ahhh, I remember what it was like to be in love. Too bad this boy will not be feeling anything anymore. Approaching the still body, I grin as the boy's eyes fly open from the warmth of my breath.

Since my trophies tend to give off a distinct odor, I turn the temperature to a low degree in order to lesson the smell. His whole body trembled from my touch.

Too bad he can not speak. He had such a pretty voice when he was screaming, but I thought he looked better when his mouth wasn't open.

Taking my knife out that I usually use to cut their bones into smaller pieces, I smile when I see the fear reflected in the boy's eyes. Approaching him, I am disappointed when he squeezes his eyes closed.

With one slash, his body falls from the suspension I had him in. I leave the room to go fetch something that I had forgotten. While searching for my long lost tool, I spot movement through the corner of my eye. Leaning over, I glance at the small video camera I had installed. I continued to watch in amusement as my prey attempts to stand up on his feet in the other room. The boy feels his wrist and slowly stands up. Looking around him, he sprints for the first door he sees.

Too bad it leads to the basement. I heave a heavy sigh. Well, I do enjoy chasing my prey. Or else this wouldn't be fun anymore. Grabbing the tool that I had forgotten, I slowly make my way to the basement where the boy ran to.

"Do you like my artwork? I try to perserve their emotion into their faces right before they meet death." I told the boy who was crying over his girlfriend's body. I throw her eyeballs at him and he catches them. Instantly, he drops them in shock when he realizes what he caught. "Love is so cruel. Is it not?"

"Would you like to join her?"

The boy nods.

I heave another sigh. "It's not much fun when one ceases to cling to their life. Where's your fighting spirit? Since you're not ready to die yet, you"ll have to wait a few more days until you are."  With that, I pulled the basement light string and doused ourselves in complete darkness.

**********

A M A R I S

Since school was suspended for the whole week because of the Mr. Kirkland's incident, I got up as the sun began to rise above the horizon. Sneaking out of my house, I meet Baethan at the entrance of the Library.

"Are you ready? This time we can stay together so we can't get separated." Baethan reasurred me as we entered the library once again.

"Did you sleep well?" Baethan asked me when he noticed me trying to stifle a yawn.

"To be honest. I had this weird dream."

"Care to tell me about it?"

"It wasn't important." I shrugged. We sat down where we previously were. Finding a light, I flip the switch. The whole room was bathed in light.

"Doesn't look as creapy anymore." Baethan said as he perused the shelves full of books.

"Okay, lets see what we do know. One." I held one finger up.

"The killer has been targeting random people."

"Actually, I think this killer's victims are what you would call the "underbelly" of Maple Grove. His last victim before Kirkland was a criminal who lived with his grandmother after he dropped out of college. It turns out that the man was receiving his mother's social security checks even though her dead body was laying upstairs for years."

"Oh, I didn't know that..." I whispered.

"It was all over the news before you arrrived. The citizens here just pretend as if it never happened and continue on in their daily lives."

"Okaaay....then the killer acts like some sort of Vigilante?"

"Beats me." Baethan shrugged his shoulders. "The book is gone..."

Ignoring his voice, I write down on a piece of notebook paper what Baethan said. Tapping the eraser end on the table, I tried to think up of another thing that we definitely knew about the killer.

"Two. The killer has been killing for quite a while so any new residents can be canceled off our suspect list." I read out loud as my pencil scratched down my words.

"Actually, the killing had gone quite for a couple of months. They only started picking up again when you moved here."

"Oh. A copycat maybe?"

"Possibly."

I heave a exasperated sigh as I furiously erased what I just wrote down.

"Three. The Killer must have a messed up life. I read in a psychological book concerning the minds of serial killers that those who experience some kind of childhood trauma result in relieving their emotions through non-ethical actions." Sensing Baethan about to open his mouth, I quickly throw my pencil at him.

"And don't you dare say "actually" again. If you have any thoughts, say them before I do!"

Quickly dodging the sharp pencil by hiding behind the bookshelf, Baethan slightly whimpers at my tone of voice. "I was just going to ask you if you heard someone knocking on the door in the distance."

When we stopped talking, the sound of someone pounding on a door grew louder.

"It looks like it's coming from in there." Baethan said while pointing to a door that was hidden behind an old piano. The thumping sound grew louder the closer we approached the piano.

"It is definitely coming from that door. Help me move the piano."

"What?! Are you crazy! What if...what if..." I couldn't finish my train of thought as the thumping sound ceased.

"Amaris. Come one, ghost do not exist. Especially when it's day time."

Hesitating, I finally gave in. Besides, it's probably an old heater machine malfunctioning or something.

"On three. One. Two. Three!"

We pushed with all of our might. The screeching of the heavy piano against the wooden floor pierced our ears. When we moved the piano far enough, Baethan grasped the doorknob and turned. As the door flung open, a heavy object tumbled towards us.

What is it?!

The bundle of rags moved and a head appeared. But when he made eye contact with us, he screamed. Or what seemed like a scream. His mouth was sewn shut with what looked like red thread. What in the world?!

***