Ashley

Ilean against the tree and watch as Fran laughs with her friends while crossing the road. The orange tip of my cigarette the only light source. I'm far enough away so nobody notices me, wearing dark enough clothes, I easily blend in with the treeline. Seems she walks this way home regularly with her stupid airhead friends. Her cackle causes me to grimace. What a fucking rat.

I've spent the past three days staying as far away from her rapey ex-boyfriend, Jesse, who must've fucked me a little harder than I thought, because the day after, my pussy was sore as shit. I woke up the day after, with countless texts on my phone, ranging from Jesse threatening me, to Mia wondering where I was and what happened.

I've been spending most of that time, productively looking her up. Going through all the details about her life through the diary Maisy so graciously gave me, and I've finally come to a conclusion.

This Fran is the same Fran that's been scribbled frantically in black ink over page thirty-eight. This Fran is the same Fran that tortured her daily. So, this Fran will be, you guessed it, the same Fran that I will take care of.

I watch as she denies her friends offer for a ride back home. What's wrong with this girl? Doesn't she know there's a serial killer out there? I'm different, I don't give a shit if death finds me. What I do care about, is if it finds me before I've finished my revenge.

Nobody is out here late at night. Lincoln State Park is a fifteen-minute walk from where she lives, so I decided to spend the day staying as close to her and her friends as I could. The three of them are oblivious. Who knew Fran was the outdoorsy type.

I chuckle to myself. They jump in the car, and she waves them off. With earbuds playing music, she obliviously passes me in the treeline. I need to make my move now. If I don't, I might not get another chance. Walking behind her, I check my surroundings to make sure nobody else is about. It's late, who the fuck would be.

Lifting my arm, I strike. Once, because I don't want to kill her, just knock her out. The minute her skull connects with the rock in my hand she falls to the floor like a sack of fucking shit, and I finally release that breath that was, coincidentally, stuck in my throat. Even if someone saw me now, they wouldn't know who I was. I'm wearing a balaclava with some fucking skull mask design over the top.

Nothing but my bright blue eyes on show. Taking her by the wrists, I drag her down into the brush and over the ditch. Deeper into the treeline and far away from the road as I can. If this was a year ago, I'd never have been able to drag a limp body like this. Dead weight is so fucking hard. However now, I do this with ease.

I think.

Who am I kidding this shit is fucking hard. This is why there's hardly any female serial killers and also why we act mostly in crimes of passion. The workload is too much and dragging around bodies isn't something we are interested in doing. Shit, I wouldn't be dragging poor Fran through the woods if it wasn't absolutely necessary. Not that I'm planning to continue this after I've killed everyone. Let's think of this as more of a means to a beautiful end.

My goal here is to hurt everyone who hurt Maisy and unfortunately, Fran will feel the brunt of it. This is my first time after all, and I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. But I've watched enough crime shows to get the gist.

"Come on, wake up." I slap Fran's cold little cheek three more times. She's been out for the past thirty minutes. It's laughable really. Who would've thought a rock would do that much damage. "Fran," I sing. Her eyes shoot open and instantly she's frantic, tearing at the rope I've tied to her wrists above her head. I may have also managed to hoist her over one particularly strong looking tree branch.

"Wha-what's going on?" She asks, her lips quiver in fear. Frantically looking around at her surroundings as the panic builds in her eyes and I'm so fucking turned on by it. She panics, her eyes darting from left to right. "Help!!" she screams. The sound piercing through my ears the same way it does when a child has that awful high pitched fucking scream as they cry. God, I hate kids. "Help!!!" she screams again.

"Fran… Fran!" I hold my hands up. "Nobody will be able to hear you. We're out in the middle of nowhere. And even if they did, they'll never make it in time." My voice coming out slightly muffled due to the balaclava. In that moment, the realisation hits her, and she begins to sob.

"Please, I have so much to do." Tears streaming from her eyes.

"What, like sucking more dick," I chortle. "Don't make me laugh Fran, your fucking life is worthless," I sigh. "I'm not getting into an argument with you. I came here to ask you a few questions."

"Whatever you want, I-I'll give it to you," she stutters.

"Oh, I know you will." I pull the knife from the back of my jeans waistband. She begins to scream even louder this time and if she carries on, I'll cut the tongue from her mouth. Shaking the knife in front of her, I continue. "First thing, I hate repeating myself. So, when I speak, listen, and listen well. Get it?" Fran nods. "Good." I smile behind the mask. "Now. Tell me about Maisy Lee."

"Who?"

"What did I just say about repeating myself. Also, don't lie to me either," I chuckle now. "OH!" I shout and she flinches. "I forgot to say that each lie you tell me; I'll make a small cut to that pretty little face. Small enough to be quick but deep enough to scar you bad. So, one last chance. Maisy Lee, talk."

She sobs. Still struggling in those restraints. It's pathetic really. "HELP ME!"

"HELP ME!! HELP ME!!" I repeat. Turning round and round in circles, screaming into the cold night air and the sight of her flinching back in fear makes me wild. "Nobody's going to hear you." I burst out laughing, unable to hold it in anymore.

"So, stop. Fucking. Crying." I bring the knife to her face, gripping her chin with my free hand as I press the tip of the blade just under her right eye. "I will pop your fucking eyeball out. Speak!" I scream the final word in her face.

"M-Maisy Lee, was m-my roommate."

"And?" I press.

"S-she k-killed herself last year."

"And why did she kill herself, Fran?" I step back. "Riddle me that."

"I don't-"

"Liar!!" I shout again. My hand connects with her cheek, and she spins in a circle. Desperately trying to keep her balance on her tiptoes. I grind my teeth together, grabbing her by the hips and turning her back to face me.

"Fran, I promise you if the next words out of your mouth aren't the truth, I'm going to lose my mind."

"S-she killed herself because-" She closes her eyes. "Because we bullied-"

"Because you bullied her enough for her to think her life was worthless!" I finish the sentence for her considering she's too chicken shit to do it herself. As I close the space between us and press the blade into the skin on her cheek a guttural sound rings out. Blood seeping out as I press harder, and deeper. Slicing through the skin like butter. Her screams and blubbering fill the air around me. Her breath turning white from the freezing cold night air.

"Please," she cries again, blood pouring from her face. "I-I d-didn't."

"You didn't what?" I cut her off. I'm losing my fucking patience with this girl. "You didn't mean to?" I laugh, spinning in a circle. Jesus, if I saw me right now, even I'd think I was crazy. "Don't worry though, it wasn't just you." Fran is hysterical now. Snot dripping from her perfect little button nose. "I know exactly who helped you," I chuckle.

"Sarah Chambers and Elena Michaels. They'll meet the same fate soon enough. I watched you guys earlier in fact."

"Please," she begs again.

"Please? Did you stop when she begged?" I press. "When she was laying on the shower floor crying after you beat her for the third time that day, as your friends watched, laughing as she sobbed."

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not." I roll my eyes.

"Please!" She cries. Her begging is becoming increasingly more frustrating.

"It's too late for that." I cut her face again and I don't stop until she's a bloody mess. I watch as she chokes on her own screams and the tears seep into the sliced skin.

"This is her revenge. This is what she wanted. You pushed her. Day in and day out. Made her feel like she was nothing when she was the most beautiful thing in this disgusting world." Tears begin to well in my eyes, but I wipe them away with the back of my hand. Grabbing Fran by the throat. "When she was my fucking angel!" I shriek.

"Wait," her words a blubbering mess, "please I can tell you w-who-"

I begin laughing hysterically. "You think I don't know all of it? I know what you and your friends did to her. I know what he did to her. And I'll make sure everyone else does."

"W-what?"

"The day you started; was the day I slowly lost the love of my life. The one person who saw me and loved ME!" I get in her face, bellowing the last word. Her sobs and coughing wrack her tiny little frame. Her voice raw. I'm probably no better than the killer that's out there right now.

"I'm s-sorry… P-please." Her begging, gross, it's making me feel sick.

"The begging is becoming pathetic now, Fran. Really, very tedious."

"I can-"

She tries to continue talking but I cut her off again. "Maisy was the only part of me that was good. The single most precious thing in my life and you," my voice cracks, the burn at the back of my throat runs up to my nose. "You took her from me. So now I'm taking something from the ones that love you. Now, I'm going to ruin their life like you ruined mine." A twig snaps behind me and I freeze, pivoting on my heel ever so slowly as my eyes rake over the figure dressed head to toe in black.

"Well, well, well," he claps. "Look who's more like me than I initially thought." He rolls his arm in a circle in front of him and takes a bow.

"Casanova?" I breathe. I don't really know if it's him, his face is covered.

"God, I fucking hate that shit," he groans, taking a few steps forward.

"So, what should I call you?" What the fuck am I doing engaging with him? This is the guy who's been killing women everywhere and I'm just, what, engaging in conversation with a serial killer. Maisy's death really did fuck me up, huh? He takes another step forward and I aim the knife at him. "Uh, uh." I shake my head from side to side. "Don't."

He holds his hands up in surrender, stopping immediately. "Ok," he says. "You can call me The Shadow, I guess."

"Bit shit, really," I shrug, screwing my face up in disgust.

"You think?"

"It doesn't matter what I think," I shrug again. "Are you planning to kill me?"

"At some point, yes. But right now, I'm really enjoying this if I'm honest." His deep American accent is one I can't seem to place. His black eyes stare into me from a distance and I'm honestly transfixed by them.

"Do I get to kill her first?" I nod my head back slightly towards Fran.

"Do you… What?" He looks at me, shock at my statement lacing his face. Fran continues to sob and scream for help behind me.

I groan at the sound because I genuinely can't believe that: A, I'm standing toe to toe with a fucking serial killer; and B, that I'm actually about to kill Fran. He barks out a laugh and claps.

"You, my love, can do anything you want to right now, as long as I get to watch." I tip my head to the side. Do I need to mull this over at all? I mean, he's here right now and either way I'm dead, so I may as well get one kill off before I am.

"Fine by me," I shrug. Turning back to face, Fran. I look at her as she hangs there perfectly still, watching the exchange between us, clearly confused. I'm really taking a chance turning my back to a serial killer, but I guess if I die now, at least I'm taking one of them with me.

"Sorry, Fran but I guess our time together has been cut short." I remove the mask from my face and her eyes widen in shock, I brush a few stray strands of hair from my face and smile.

"Ashley?" My name comes out as little more than a whisper.

"What does it feel like, knowing I'm the last thing you'll ever see?" Tilting my head, my smile now a crazy grin.

"No, no, no wait please-" I cut her pleading off with the first piercing of the knife in her chest. She freezes, looking into my eyes. The knife is lodged in there pretty deep, and I struggle at first to pull the knife out. I see a leather gloved hand in my peripheral and yank one more time. Removing it from her chest plate. Laughing as the blood spurts everywhere, hitting my face, hands, and chest.

The serrated edge of the hunting knife piercing Fran's skin as I rain down blows to her chest, has me smiling from ear to ear.

"This is for every time you broke her!" I scream. Pounding into her chest the same way a hammer hits a nail. The sounds of her screams mingled with my heavy panting as I continue to destroy her body. She deserves it, she deserves every ounce of pain that this fucking knife, that I, am giving her.

I hope in her final moments, she's using what's left of that pathetic brain to think about all the awful things she's done. About all the time she wasted being a vomit inducing, disgusting human being.

I hope that when she takes her final breath on this earth, Maisy pops into her mind. I've never been happier knowing that the last emotion Fran felt, was fear.

Because she deserved it.

She deserved it all.

Each time the hunting knife pierces her skin, her screams of pain become less and less until the only sound is that of my panting and crying.

Why the fuck am I crying?

I'm holding onto the knife that's still lodged into her sternum. Her head now limp, and her chest is covered in knife marks, blood pouring from each wound. Turning her once white jeans crimson. A hand encases my wrist and I snatch it back, but his grip is too harsh.

"Get off me!"

"You're fucking perfect, Ashley," he whispers, pulling me close to him as he sniffs my hair. In a split second he pushes me back, letting go of me, and I stumble. I watch as he takes small, calculated steps towards me and I mimic him until my back hits the tree trunk behind me.

"Look at you, releasing all that pent up aggression. Why?"

"Weren't you listening?" I hiss.

Why the fuck am I not scared?

What's fucking wrong with me?

Leaning into my neck, he begins to smell me. His mask running over my cheek and the nylon fabric tickling my jawline. I should be running right now, running for my life, but where am I going to go. My car is parked a little ways from here and who's to say he won't get me before I reach it.

"So beautiful. Covered in someone else's blood," he breathes in my ear, the tone bringing a shiver to my body I've never experienced before. "So perfect." I turn my face to look at him, to show him I'm not afraid and to defy what he wants me to be.

"I'm not afraid," I whisper. "I'm not afraid to die, just not yet. Please let me finish what I started."

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you right now, my girl."

My girl?

"Then what?" I press. He brings his gloved hand up to the bottom of his mask, peeling the black fabric from his face and folding I up to his nose. Just enough that his mouth is on show. A slow but beautiful smile creeps over his face and the pooling between my legs is evident.

Do I like this? No. Wait, do I?

He pokes his tongue out, then proceeds to flatten it against my cheek. Licking the remnants of Fran's life force off me. "I'm going to fuck you against this tree, and you're going to love every single second." The pop of the button on my jeans causes me to flinch and I close my eyes. An involuntarily moan releasing as he rips the zip down and yanks the jeans roughly down my thighs.

"Don't," I beg, but I don't mean it, and by the way he laughs so sweetly in my ear, he knows it too. Grabbing my shoulders, he spins me on the spot.

"Are you wet for me?"

"No." Another laugh. He runs his hand over my face, spreading the blood onto his glove as he reaches between my legs and begins to use it as lube against my swollen clit. My head drops back and hits his shoulder at the invasion of his touch against my skin. I hear the zip from his own jeans fall and in a split second, without any warning, he thrusts inside me like a man possessed. The tree bark grinds against my blood-soaked cheek.

"Fuuuck!" He cries out. Leaning forward, he licks the blood from my cheek again. It's vile and depraved. So why the fuck do I feel the butterflies in my lower stomach? "That's my sick and twisted little angel." The words are guttural and raw in my ear as he continues to rub my clit with every single thrust.

"Oh my god," I breathe out. All the while feeling the fullness of his fat cock thrusting in and out of me. He thrusts in harder, branding my slick walls. He's not even wearing a condom. I'm just letting him fuck me raw like it's nothing. Like it's normal.

He slides his other hand round my throat and pulls me against him, my back stretched into the most awkward but deliciously curved angle as the tip of his cock rubs against that perfect little sweet spot.

"Harder." The words leave my mouth before I can stop them and with that, he begins to fuck me so roughly that I forget how to breathe. "Fuck me harder!"

Have I lost my damn mind?

Definitely.

"You want harder?" he roars, immediately pulling himself out of me. Fisting my hair he drags me over to Fran's weightless body, still hanging from the tree. He throws me to the floor as the broken twigs and dirt bite into my bare knees. "On your back, Ashley." Flipping me over with a black booted foot and proceeding to press it to my chest. Holding me in place.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" I shout, pressing my hands into the sole of his boot, to relieve some of the pressure from my chest.

"Giving you what you want!" he growls down at me. Removing a knife from his thigh, he rips open Fran's shirt and slices her stomach open. Her blood cascades over me as I reach up and cover my face just in time, before her entrails fall from her gut. Dropping to the floor he flips me over, bracing me on all fours as he forces his way back inside me. I'm absolutely covered in blood. Her blood as he fucks me.

Grabbing my upper arms in a vice like grip he drags me back against his chest. He is on his knees behind me as my jeans tied legs are between his. I don't realise I'm moaning until a harsh scream ruptures from my throat.

"That's it. Look at her," he sings. "Look at what you did to her while I fuck this tight little cunt." His voice ringing in my ears as he talks to me. My orgasm building with every single thrust. "Widen your legs for me," he begs. "I need to touch you."

I involuntarily widen my knees as I see him bite the leather of his glove. Tearing it from his hand, running it over the blood covered fabric, he uses it to coat my swollen and extremely angry clit yet again, rubbing back and forth.

"Yes, oh fuck, yes," I cry out. I open my eyes and stare up at Fran hanging there as her body rocks back and forth ever so slightly, the cold breeze washing over me as he fucks me from behind. Our skin slapping and echoing into the night.

Hearing the deep rumble in his chest as he shoots his load inside me, makes me jump over the edge with him and it's fucking incredible. The orgasm waves over my skin and sends shivers through every single pore. Our heavy breathing the only sound within the forest and he drops his forehead against my back.

"That's a first," he begins laughing. He immediately pulls out of me, and I turn to face him, dragging my jeans back up the best I can.

"Get out of here. I'll take care of this."

What?

I freeze in place as he rights himself. Not looking at me. "I don't-"

He looks at me then, raising his arm and shouting, pointing which way for me to go. "Go Ashley!"

I flinch, pulling up my jeans up further as I walk backwards.

"Get the fuck out of here."

I flick my eyes to Fran's lifeless body, my knife still lodged inside her, before I bolt out of there.