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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

All in all, it wasn't such a bad way to die.

She turned away from the freezing sleet and pulled the hood of her belted coat over her bare head. Her hands went back to her pockets, her fingers automatically sliding along the blade of the box cutter she kept there. Pressing lightly on the razor edge for comfort, releasing a quick gasp of pain-slash-pleasure as she felt a cut open up on her fingertip.

She was a small girl, far too delicate-looking to be alone on a bus stop at midnight. But she was, and passersby tended to shy away from her because of something they couldn’t quite place. Maybe her eyes were too intense. Maybe her cupid’s-bow mouth was too inviting. Maybe it was because she emanated a malevolent aura of darkness that sucked people in, never letting them out.

The girl bit her lower lip. She needed to kill, and so far she was having lousy luck.

A bus screeched to a halt in front of the stop, and a man staggered out. He was red-cheeked from the cold. His skin was sallow and there were shadows under his blood-shot eyes.

The girl smiled a secret smile. There was her victim.

"Cold night, isn’t it?" The man greeted her, wrapping his Polartec jacket around his lean but muscular frame even tighter. His lips were blue, and he looked dead already - it made her feel a spark of sudden lust at the though of him dying beneath her.

"It is," she answered softly, looking up at him through her long, thick, unfairly hypnotizing fringe of eyelashes.

He blushed. “What’s a pretty girl like yourself doing out here all alone?"

She tilted her head to one side, surveying him with an unreadable expression on her face. “I live near here,” she finally said. “If you want some place warm to stay…”

He laughed and shook his head in bemusement. “Now wait a minute. How are you sure that I’m not heading home right now?”

The girl shrugged, her long, dark wavy hair falling luxuriously over her shoulder. Her tiny red mouth parted in a smile that exposed a row of small, pointed teeth.

"There are no other houses here," she informed him.

He sighed, shoving his hands inside his pockets. His breath steamed in the dry, cold air. “Aren’t you scared that I might be a serial killer or something?”

The girl twirled a lock of her hair around her little finger and gave him a slow smile. “I’ve always wanted to meet a serial killer,” she told him confidentially.

He stopped to take a good look at her. The girl was wrapped in an oversized black hooded coat. Underneath she was wearing a thin white sundress and nothing else. Her legs and feet were bare, her dark hair tumbling wildly around her shoulders and face.

Her huge, dark eyes were pupil-less and had no visible white sclera. They blinked up slowly at him, sending a wave of powerlessness washing through his body.”Come home with me?” She whispered, holding out a small, pale hand.

He took it, feeling helpless and peculiarly overpowered by her presence. “Yes,” he answered in a stupor, although his brain was screaming at him to get the fuck out of there.

She stood up, her head barely reaching his shoulder. She laced her fingers through his, and pulled him into the shadows.



The moment they got inside the house, he lifted her up and pressed her against the wall, burying his hands in her hair and kissing her hard on the mouth. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him back hungrily, clamping her teeth on his tongue and drawing blood.

The taste of the blood made her even more urgent, and she broke free from the kiss, shoving his head to one side and raking her teeth down the length of his exposed neck. He groaned hoarsely, gripping her shoulders as if they were a lifeline and he was drowning. He ripped off her coat, slipped his hands under her sundress, and ran his palms up and down her back.

She took off his shirt and began biting and kissing her way down his chest and torso. He slowly slid her down the wall until they were on the floor, and she made her way on top of him while he lay helpless underneath.

"What now?" he asked, his lips red with blood and his throat flushed with bites.

She looked at him with a heated expression, her lips curling up into a smirk. Her hand skimmed his abdomen, hooking her thumb on the waistband of his pants and pulling one side down slightly. He gave a quick gasp as she lowered herself and brushed her lips over his hip.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, trying to restrain himself.

"As sure as you’re going to die," she whispered back, leaning over him, the box cutters suddenly, confusingly, disconcertingly in her hand.

"What the fuck?" He tried to stand, to fight her off, but she was already standing over him and surveying the damage she had done. He was bleeding from multiple cuts all over his wrists, neck and abdomen, and a pool of dark crimson was soaking the carpet underneath.

The man gave a choked cry of shock and revulsion as the girl watched him struggle, running her small tongue over the box cutter blade. “You look so good like that,” she said, her breath hitching, her eyes wide and bright.

"Demon," he gasped trying to crawl away, far away, from the girl. But she stopped him and lay down on the floor with him, turning his face to hers and kissing him softly, licking his lips over and over again to get all of the blood off them. She was caressing his back, stroking his hair affectionately, lovingly pressing her body against his as he bled to death.

"Mmm," she moaned softly, her lips pressed against his ear. "You taste so good, you feel so good…"

"What are you planning to do to me?" He asked, mustering all of the strength left in him.

She looked up at him coyly, pausing from sucking on the cut on his wrist before answering. “I’m going to kill you,” she answered lightheartedly. “Then I’m going to go outside, wait for another boy, and kill again.”

He wanted to run. He wanted to stand up, grab her by the hair and beat the hell out of her. But she was working some strange magic and he had no will to get up and fight.

The girl was getting increasingly more turned on the more he bled out. She was now biting his hipbone while skimming his thigh. He heard her unzip his pants, and the last conscious thought that he had before passing out from an overpowering wave of lust and blood loss was that, all in all, it wasn’t such a bad way to die.


Submitted: December 13, 2014

© Copyright 2022 heykailin. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:


Chris Green

This is an interesting take on psychopathic vampire horror and kept me enthralled right up to the last could of sentences which I felt were not quite as strong as the rest of the narrative but altogether a great story.

Mon, December 15th, 2014 9:22am


i'm so glad you like my story :) i agree that some parts are not as strong as the rest, but i'll keep working on it 'til i get it right. thank you so much for your feedback!

Mon, December 15th, 2014 8:37pm

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