Page 3 of Bloody Seven

The club we ended up at the next day was busy enough for her to feel confident I would find someone to spend my evening with. She’s lucky that's how the night ended because she left me for the dance floor with her boyfriend a solid ten minutes after we arrived. I silently watched the two of them dancing while I sat awkwardly at some random table, feeling insecure.

When I looked around the club, everyone seemed so confident in themselves. They weren’t stuck in their heads, like I was.The outfit Lilly encouraged me to wear made me even more uncomfortable, but she insisted I couldn't go out wearing the same things I wore at home. This was New York City, and a little black dress was required.

The whole idea of even being there intimidated me because I doubt any of these people grew up with the same restrictions I did.

I was eight when my mother was murdered, and it completely changed my father’s outlook on life. He never let me leave his sight and always made sure I was hyper-aware of my surroundings. He would quiz me on my situational awareness every day we spent together until the day he passed away just before my nineteenth birthday.

In my teen years, he was more intense. I was told to watch for strange men anytime I would leave the house. It was pretty much drilled into my brain that I could be assaulted or murdered at any point in time for no reason at all. I was even put in self-defense classes to learn how to shoot guns and wield knives. A skill that most would find useless, but I’m thankful for it now.

That situational awareness led me to a pair of eyes watching me from across the club, not long after my bestie abandoned me. When my brown eyes locked on his, a nervous blush swept through me. Thankfully, it was too dark for him to see it. A small grace.

He smiled, and the corner of my mouth lifted into a flirtatious grin as he made his way across the room to my table. I almost took the cowardly way out and turned to run, but there was something about him that lured me in. It was like nothing else mattered. My father’s warning still echoed in my mind, and I think it would make him proud to know I was at least thinking about being cautious.

The handsome stranger introduced himself as Drew and went on to tell me about how he was here with his buddy. He pointed over to a guy in the corner of the club with his tongue down some girl's throat, and I giggled. Apparently, his buddy left him to fend for himself, similar to what Lilly did to me.

The two of us spent the entire night getting to know each other. In some twist of fate, he grew up less than an hour from me. The next town over, to be exact. We had just met, but in that instant, he became my everything.

Before we left the club, he tried to introduce me to his buddy, and the guy was a total douche. I can’t remember his name, or what he looked like, to save my life, but he couldn't even be bothered to give me a proper hello. Instead, he looked at me, briefly waved, and went back to sucking the girl's face.

When I asked Drew more about him as he walked me to my cab, he told me they were roommates in college, and they graduated from NYU the semester before. This was their first time meeting up after graduation.

Now that I think about it, I guess they didn't bother to stay in touch because over the next two years, I never saw that guy again, and Drew never talked about him.

I feel the emotions begin to pull at my chest. It was our tradition to come to New York City for our anniversary and we had a whole itinerary. The day before would be spent walking around the city, soaking up the different cultures. On Valentine's Day, we would go to dinner, and then the day after, we would spend an entire 24 hours tangled up in one another in our hotel room. Three days of bliss with the man I love every year.

I didn't realize our second anniversary would be our last. That psycho in the alley took him from me, and now I've spent more days without him than I spent with him. That thought is almost too much to bear.

Some days, his death feels like a distant dream, and others, it feels like it was just yesterday. They say you don't know what you've got until it's gone, but I don't always think that's true. Sometimes, you know exactly what you've got, and that makes it so much worse when it's gone. So many people spend their lives taking advantage of the things they should cherish the most. I'll never take a single thing for granted again.

After I returned home to plan Drew's funeral, a deadly mixture of hate, loss, love, yearning, pain, and trauma brewed inside of me. We just bought our house, and we were planning our future, but none of that mattered anymore. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw flashbacks of his attack.The knife. The blood.

A tear slips down my cheek, and I wipe it away aggressively. I should have been able to defend myself that night. With the training my father gave me, I should have been able to fight back to protect Drew. My fucking emotions got the best of me, and I stood there like a deer in headlights, unable to use any kind of rational thought. It's too late for me and Drew, but I will finish my quest to honor his memory.

After his funeral, which was only me having him buried, I stayed at his grave for hours. My fingers were frozen, and I was nearing frostbite, before I finally had the courage to go home, knowing what I had to do. I made a vow at his gravesite. I promised I would return to the city every year on our anniversary until he got the vengeance he was owed.

Seven men, seven years, seven deadly sins.

I spent my time before the first kill building up my strength and working through my grief. Exactly one year later—Gluttony was taken out. It didn't take long to find him either.

I was walking down the street late at night and noticed some sorry piece of shit that had a woman pushed up against a building, and I took it upon myself to give him what he deserved. He was clearly drunk and refused to listen when the womantried to push him away, so I pulled the Taser from my purse and zapped him with it. He was disoriented for a few seconds giving the woman time to scurry away, and I stood there wondering if I was really ready to kill someone.

Spoiler alert, I did. I pulled a knife from my pocket and stabbed him seven times, taking the man’s life, just like my Drew was taken from me. I didn't know his name, but it felt so fucking good to end him, knowing that because of me, he would never hurt another woman again.

The bloody snow threatened to pull me into memories of Drew, but I kept them at bay as I reached into my purse for the single red rose and dropped it on the man's chest. When I walked away, my skin buzzed with adrenaline.

That was six years ago. While I admit it was pure luck, I never got caught, and the rest of my first five kills have gone swimmingly. I became more methodical, but Gluttony, Pride, Envy, Greed, and Sloth all died the same way. A Taser to the neck before being stabbed seven times and left with a red rose on their chest.

It took a few years, but after year four, the cops recognized my signature pattern, and I earned a name for myself. The Cupid Killer.

It's a silly name, but the authorities thought they were clever since my kills always take place on Valentine’s Day, and a rose is left behind. They have no idea who they're looking for or why I'm killing people because the only thing to connect my victims is the fact that they’re men, but with each kill, Drew's memory lives on through me.

Lust is this year's sin, and tomorrow, someone will be painted in blood. The same beautiful shade of crimson that this holiday is represented by. The color that still haunts my dreams every time I close my eyes. I take another sip of my coffee before sucking in a deep breath to center myself.

It's almost time to go back inside to get dressed. Today, I'll walk the streets of the city, scouting out my next victim. I was careless the first year, but I learned from it and found ways to prevent myself from getting caught. It’s not foolproof, but this way ensures my kills are fueled by something more stable than emotions.

The last few vibrant colors from the sunrise fade, and the light of the day shines bright across the city. The new day has officially begun, and there isn't a cloud in sight. With a smile, I stand and walk back into my hotel room.

I drop the paper coffee cup in the trash and saunter to my suitcase to grab today's outfit. It's always the same: black leggings, a black sweater, and a black jacket. You'd think I like the color black or something.

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