Hello lovelies, 

I am so grateful to you all for your responds towards this story, though it was just a prologue. Thanks. 

I hope you like the story concept. Well. i don't want to waste time so here is the FIRST CHAPTER> enjoy. 

(not edited. Sorry for any grammatical and spelling mistakes.) 

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Chapter One

Manik

The camera between my hands, is clicking, and collecting. My every prey looks alluring after death, and maybe that is the one of reason I kill— they flatter me. But for me it is no reason.

Because, I kill.

Simple.

Out of no reason.

Asphyxiating someone to death is satisfying. No one can understand the fulfillment of killing, unless he do that himself. It's lewd, and carnal. We all craving this vetoed block, just some of them can unearth the sphinx.

Once again, I pay attention to the body, artistically looking divine, and the thought itself is appeasing. Looking at the body, I recalled why I picked her at the first— willing, demanding and luring. All are, aren't they? And I like their willingness, if not I have a way to make them willing to my needs.

I grant death. I decide 'when and how'.

I don't need a categorical reason, and in fact I think no one should. If killing satisfied you and your sanity then you should kill, without having any reason. And don't know why people trying to find the reason behind killing. It's not dreadful, but forming others see the death as a crime, makes it dreadful. I don't find any coarseness in killing, so there is no coarseness.

They should behave. They need to behave.

Media and everyone referred the killer as a psychopath, cruel, a pathetic monster. I am no different.

But killing has never been a cruelty to me, but a methodical artistry to my essence.

I love killing, not for vengeance, something else, like possession. I felt my excitement through my body, the blood intoxicated me when I killed, nothing as energizing me to wrap up in the blood of beautiful creatures. Their bodies respond to me rhythmically before dying on the position.

F*cking pleasurable. F*cking beautiful. F*cking excited.

I have been called a psychopath. Well, I don't mind. If the art matches the outstanding, then criticism is the best way to respond to an artist. And every art lies with a sinful beauty. Even though if I want to stop myself, I can't stop now, it mixed with my blood. Even if I didn't want to kill, my soul found a way to kill.

I am a call to beauty, and beauty indeed needs to end in my hand.

And I become what I am destined to be, it was all planned, and I would plan the next, my ancestor followed, I would follow. And the next will too.

No choice. But choosing. I chose death just like my father and my grandfather did, and the rest. We bound to choose, and formed ourselves to our duty. It's all lies in blood. We born with this remarkable competency. We know one way, but live in thousands.

We don't belong to their way, same goes for them.

Just like voice call voice, Venus calls my soul. I am a doom to them. I am their end.

A man pacing in front of me, discussing the murder. "He is very careful. And knows what he is doing." I don't know what to call them. Idiot or crazy like fox? May be the first one. I had pinned plenty of clues, but still not looking at those. Brainless detectives.

"It's happening for years now, Dhruv. The case study at least says that." I looked at my friend who was talking to his partner, my other friend.

"Cabir, if it has been for years then don't you think he should be dead by now. And the killing ways of every victim are different." Dhruv responded, as he searched the spot. He waited then turned to me, "Manik, what do you think?"

Stupid.

CID and police are after the killer—me, and undoubtedly asking help from me.

I laughed silently.

How pathetic now is that they couldn't find me when I am so close to them.

Idiots.

I even left clues, still no result.

Pathetic is that!

Tapping the table, i watched everyone as they investigated the murder. I click one more photo before answering.

"Well, I am not a CID, what I can think?" I played dumb, i am so good at acting, adjusting my glass I stood up. "I am just a Journalist. I should be the one to ask this question as it seems to be a good point." Good, digging my own burial place, brilliant.

"Yeah, right." Dhruv shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know how you become a top Reporter, not to mention the famous one, but no curiosity. No question. At all."

"I have. But for news. Not for your investigation. I am a Journalist who reports. It's natural for me to be curious, and I am curious way more than you know, but that doesn't mean I have to show my curiosity all the time I meet people. I know what I need for news. And I don't always have to ask to break news."

"Right, bloody genius." Cabir mocked.

I speak casually though my voice is stern, which got their attention now. "I am. Any doubt? If you are then try me."

Dhruv smirked. "No news today then. Bad luck."

"Tch, poor detectives, so useless to find a single clue to catch the murderer. Tch." This time I smirked at them. "How about I turn this into a news story, right now. It could be the top news for my channel and column. Not bad."

Dhruv punched the table in anger. "F*ck you, Manik. You are supposed to help us." Dhruv barked.

"Well, hunting news is my job. And helping CID is not part of my job. It's yours. Which you clearly are not doing." I am well aware that I, myself, was provoking them against me, playing with fire, throwing myself to the edge of the fire. How sadistic I can be. "I got what I need. Goodbye"

"I swear Manik if you published anything against CID this time, i will f*cking kill you with my bare hands." Dhruv snapped behind me.

"I report too." I provoked.

Dhruv groaned. "Same. If you report or published anything about CID, I will kill you, Manik."

We will see.

Killing me isn't that easy, brother. You can try. If you come after me, i will wait to the end to f*cking throw you to the grave— dead. The thought of death already making me ached. I need to kill. I have to kill. My breathing gets heavy with every step I take.

F*Ck!

Not now. Not now. No, I need to see blood. I need to kill.

I need to see blood flowing, the body underneath me, struggling, screaming my name to death, pleasure mixes with terror. I need that. Right f*cling now. And I will. My friends are idiots. I lead them to my death every time, and they are sitting back comfortably on their chair. Well, I notified them, my duty ends there. Or what can I do? I laughed. I am just a journalist. I walk to my office, greeted my colleagues. They were discussing about the other night, the night I killed. They don't know, they are my pretext. "Hey, Aryaman, I read the news. It's great. Well done."

"That is what I was telling him, boss." My assistant, Abhi, asserts. "We are planning for celebration."

Celebration! That would be nice. One night for celebration, can cool me down. I could be remain off guard. "My treat then." I offer, acted cool. He probably has been thinking I offered for honoring him. If he knew the pretension behind this cool mask. "Tonight, we will celebrate Aryaman's first success."

"Thanks, Boss. It wouldn't be possible without you" Aryaman sweet mouthed me.

"It's all on you, boy. And yeah, I am hosting."

"Yes, Boss." All shouted in union. Referring me as boss sounded unethical to me, because I don't own the company or channel. Anyways, who cares?

None.

●●●●●

Nandini

Just as I feel the hot water against my skin, I was drawn to tiredness. I touched my body with apprehension, and feeling. So tired. But I have to go to work again. Though I worked this week nonstop, and without having any sleep it was tough. I won't complain as I need to work, because I need money. No choice. I do want a luxurious life. But I have to wait.

Can't be greedy.

I laughed.

I watched the time, its 8 pm, and my brother, Anayv is not here yet, it makes me worried and satisfied. If he was here, I would be doomed by now. He would have sent me to my death if he finds the money. And I definitely won't explain how I got this. I need those money. To cure us. I want to be rich. And he has been just delaying me. He has to take control of his addiction.

I don't know how to cure him. And I have to save money for his treatment. It's too expensive. If I have choice then I wouldn't have save money.

I could---

Discarding the thought I let myself enjoy the warm water for a few more moments before coming out. I look at my body the through the broken mirror, not bad. If I dressed up like those rich girls, I would look stunning. I laugh, and give one more appreciative glance at my stunning body.

I wrap the towel around me, and took the other one to dry my hair. Almost shredding. But no money to buy a new one. Why I have to born like this? I could be like those rich kids, but no my parents choose to starve us. I hate them.

So much morality. So much honesty. It makes me sick. My heart feel with hatred.

I reached for my work clothes. I can't delay. Or else the manager will fire me, he gave me the extra shift against the rules to earn more, and promised to protect me, as if I need. Though it's sweet. I smirked. None can help their excitement for me. They want me. And I am aware of that. I smile more.

The Red Pelican club is crowded with bastards, well with rich bastards. I would have been on their list if the manager didn't save me. I wouldn't have mind. One day sure.

I lock the door, check twice to see if I locked.

Extra cautious. Always. 

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Hoping that you like the first chapter. I would like to hear your opinion. What do you think of Manik and Nandini's character? And what is your perspective towards this chapter? 

Help me with your opinions. It was hard to write a thriller and crime. and i am still researching. So please enlighten me. And no rude comments and bashing. Constructive criticism is allowed, but please, kindly avoid rudeness.

Thank you.

Love,

_D. A