Walker slithered out of the damp, dilapidated shack. He was finished. Darkness hid him from any suspecting passer-by and licked the ground with its shadows. Inside the shack sat Mr. Waters, body stiff and leathery and still dewy with beads of sweat, forever frozen in a contorted position and laced with terror. Glancing over his burly shoulder, Walker smiled like a Cheshire cat. Mr. Waters was dead.

Walker loved these nights, the nights when the sky showed no moon, no stars, no light, just silence. Something lingered in the air like a secret perfume that made his pulse rise, perhaps a forgotten memory. Strolling along the sidewalk, his dirty blonde hair fluttering in the light breeze, he thirsted for more. A thought. He remembered a girl from his younger days. Memories of Tabitha Cross, Walker’s first and only love, tip toed constantly through his mind. The soft brown waves of her hair and her sparkling eyes filled with innocence caught Walker in a trap the moment he saw her. The feeling never proved mutual and strangely with his love for Tabitha came his hatred. If Walker couldn’t have her, no one could.

He stopped cold in Tabitha’s front yard, the crisp green grass crackling beneath his scuffed Nikes. Looking up at her window, his lips curled in a devilish smile. No light leaked through her cream curtains and, in Walker’s luck, she had cracked the window ever so slightly, just enough to make the curtains dance. Walker hurried over to the rickety fence, letting out a loud creak when he pulled himself up and onto the oblique ledge below Tabitha’s window. Sliding his sweaty fingers into the crack and wedging in small splinters, he slammed the window open making a loud thud that echoed through the neighborhood, ricocheting off the motionless houses. Waking her did not matter anymore; in truth, he loved to see the fear seep into his victim’s eyes. Tabitha shot up.

“Wal-,” her words interrupted by chocking and gagging. Just strangle her, he thought, she deserves this. Rage from an unspoken battle swarmed in Walker’s body making him shake and shutter. Blood ran down his forearms as Tabitha scratched in vain, painting her white sheets a deep red. They got slower and softer with each passing second. The air in her throat pulsed against his palms. She turned blue, then white as a snowflake as the sparkle left her eyes and took with it the innocence. The pulse stopped soon after the scratching.

Sirens. Someone had seen him! Someone heard! Walker released Tabitha and kissed her, the imprint of his hands still on her neck. He flew out of her window and as soon as he hit the ground, he made a run for it. His thoughts jumped back to his earlier days, still so pure and innocent. He had a nightmare of this once and let out an ear-piercing shriek in the dead of night. For that and anything else causing a sign of weakness, Walker’s father would senselessly beat him. His thoughts trailed to his victims, the nightmares their families must have. Tires screeched through the neighborhood. Pulsing red and blue lights painted the sleeping houses. A shot rang out.

Walker awoke. He hated these nights. Tonight the sky showed no moon, no stars, no light, just silence. A white comforter hugged him, speckled with mahogany colored droplets. Blood streamed down his lip and chin as he bit down trying to hold in his scream.