DeLuca (Mafia Romance)

Eddie

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The blood seeped out of her unmoving body and onto the concrete at an incredible rate, calming the chaos of my mind and thickening the metallic smell hanging in the air as the stain on the ground grew. I watched her tanned skin grow pale, her brown eyes hidden beneath her colorless eyelids. She was perfect, but when my eyes tracked up her lifeless form and landed on her hair, the buzzing started to build in my head again. It wasn’t right.

NO, NO, NO, NO! The hair isn’t right. It has to be right!

I took a step closer, then another, my breath coming out in pants with the anxiety my thoughts caused, mixed with the anticipation of what I needed to do to fix it. Once I was standing over her prone body, I crouched down, lowering a gloved hand into the scarlet puddle. I could feel it’s warmth through my glove, but it wasn’t enough. I knew I shouldn’t risk leaving any part of me here with her, but I had to know what her blood slicking my skin felt like.

Ripping the glove off my right hand, I tossed it to the side before lowering to my knees and straddling her thighs. Leaning farther over her until I was hovering directly above her, being careful to brace my left hand outside of the pool of her blood.

Slowly I let my ungloved hand slip into the thick, sticky fluid, excitement pulsing through my body at the sight of it against my skin. I rubbed my fingers together, closing my eyes at the satisfying slip and slide. It felt like stroking a piece of silk, and I was almost dizzy with the pleasure of it. I’ve killed before, but never this close-never like I’d dreamed and fantasized about for years.

I wanted to take my time enjoying the feel of it, and the absence of the noise in my mind, but I didn’t have the time. Glancing around the dumpster towards the end of the alley, I confirmed we were still alone. The dingy alley I’d forced her into was empty and silent; the dumpster blocked the light from the street, but the full moon hanging lazily above the tall buildings glowed bright, allowing me to admire my handiwork. The only sound I could register was my own heavy breathing and the rapid thumping of my heart.

The buzzing in my head was already starting to stir, my brief moment of peace slipping away from me. I needed to get out of there, but I had to make it right first. I couldn’t leave her here unless it was right. Dipping my hand back into the pool of blood, I coated my hand before gently caressing her hair back away from her face. I continued to spread the bright red blood over the blonde strands, my movements growing more frantic as I found pieces that I’d missed. It had to be right. She wasn’t blonde. Her hair was red. It had to be red.

Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. RED.

I repeated it in my head until the word felt right, until her hair was saturated in her own lifeblood, until she was perfect. Standing up slowly, I stepped back, admiring my work and breathing in the heavy scent of her life that lingered around her for just a moment before I snatched up the previously discarded glove and headed for the street.

Even as I walked to my car three blocks down, I knew that this sated feeling I had would pass and the cravings would claw at me until I fed them. Already I was starting to feel the itch beneath my skin start to build; it wouldn’t be long before I needed another.