Page 7 of Mayhem and Minnie

For a while, I simply locked myself in my room, sequestering myself from the world even more. I knew that if I got out, I’d seek to quench my blood thirst, and in return, become even more disappointed in myself when my kill turned out anything less than perfect.

I went to such extreme lengths that I locked the door and flushed the key down the toilet.

Of course, that didn’t stop me from breaking the door—maybe I should think about replacing all doors in my house with steel ones, perhaps even titanium.

As soon as I was out, I was on the prowl once more.

When I made yet another mistake while stalking my would-be victim, I decided that if I cannot fix myself, perhaps someone else can.

But now I see that was a useless idea.

Mrs. Leonard didn’t understand. Meeting new people is not the solution. It’s a mere catalyst that would make me fall back into old habits.

I release a frustrated sigh as I bang my fist against the steering wheel.

Maybe I should just call in an anonymous tip at the police so they can lock me away. Maybe behave badly and they can put me into solitary. Then I will not kill, nor will I have to entertain other useless humans.

The idea is appealing.

Alas, I’m far too attached to my comforts to give them up. And though appearances might be deceiving, I do have a job in IT that I surprisingly enjoy—remotely, of course.

I continue to contemplate the sorry state of my life when something on the sidelines catches my attention. My brows go up as I slow down, keeping my gaze on the couple seemingly having a tiff by the side of the highway.

My focus is on the woman, though—if she can be called that. She’s a tidbit of a girl. Doubtful she’s taller than five-two. But it’s not her diminutive size that demands my attention. It’s the way she’s dressed in a shirt and a pair of jeans.

In this goddamn weather.

My eyes rake down her body.

She doesn’t even have proper shoes. She’s wearing a pair of slides. No socks. At this rate, she’ll get frostbite in no time.

A shudder goes down my back.

Who the hell goes out dressed like that?

I fucking hate the cold.

Yet there she is, brazenly standing in the cold, letting the icy snow slide down her body. White snowflakes have created a crown atop her dark hair.

Another tremor grips me, and I reach for the heat controller to make it warmer in the car.

The man is much older than her, and he’s dressed appropriately for the weather.

He’s no gentleman, that’s for sure.

He sees that little thing barely clothed and doesn’t even offer to give her his coat.

I shake my head in disapproval.

Even I would offer. If only to get her to stop looking so cold, which in turn makes me feel cold.

Self-serving?

Perhaps.

My car has come to a halt at this point. I’m so enraptured by what’s happening between the two that I absentmindedly must have stopped by the side of the road.

Now, seeing them up close, I realize they’re no couple. At least not based on the girl’s body language as she’s all but baring her teeth at him.

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