Chicago, Illinois
1992
They were all going to die at some point. It was just a question of when.
This was what circled in the killer’s head as he breezed through the corridor, picking up his pace so as not to allow temptation to sink in. They weren’t here for sex or companionship or friendship. They were here for one reason, and one reason only.
They were here to die.
It was a long corridor, dark and grimy. A faint odor of stale beer seeped from the torn carpets. The wallpaper was torn, revealing solid brickwork that reliably housed his prospects. The same prospects who now wept behind each door. The ones who were going to die.
But not today. Today there was only one.
The killer found the correct door and applied the latch mechanism, opening the door for a few ungenerous inches. It provided just enough light to see the woman lying on her poor excuse for a bed – a thin mattress sitting on a filthy floor. He entered, locking the door behind him as he stayed out of her reach. From there, he did nothing but watch.
“Please,” the woman said. “Let me go home.”
She was all of twenty with luscious, emerald eyes and full lips. Stunning fiery hair draped over her shoulders, but even in its frayed condition, she still oozed sexiness. Not many women could pull that off, he thought. She was lucky. At least to a certain extent.
“I’m sorry to have kept you here,” the killer told her, and he almost sounded convincing. He stepped away from the door and gestured toward it. “Go on. It’s about time you went home to your family, don’t you think?”
The woman stared at him, stunned.
“Well?” he urged. “Don’t you want to leave?”
“Are… are you serious?”
“Of course. Go.”
Crossing his arms, the killer leaned with his back against the wall of this small, dark room. There was nowhere else for her to go. Nothing for her to do. She had two options: risk leaving or stay here to die. Oh, and the smell of this place.
The woman shot to her feet, hesitating before she moved. She watched the killer from across the room, apparently sensing a certain dishonesty in his offer. After a short while, she moved one foot as if to test the waters. Soon after, the other followed, and she was heading right for the door to her salvation. To her freedom.
That was when he made his move.
The killer launched forward, grabbing her hair. She let out a desperate cry as her head snapped back while he pulled with all his strength. The woman stumbled back on unsteady legs before falling, landing on her back with a thud.
“You really think you could just walk out of here?” he hissed through gritted teeth. “I’ve told you over and over that you’re staying here until you die. Do you really believe I would just let you walk out of here so you can run and tell the police?”
The woman cried, crawling backward with her hands and heels. She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks like twin rivers. The killer was supposed to feel sorry for her – he knew that – but of all the emotions flowing through him right now, only one stood out.
It was joy. Pure, unrelenting joy, as he stormed toward his next kill.