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Saint Valentine | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
She is alone. Always alone. Valentines day, the day of love, and Carrie was alone. Her Friends, Her family, all happy, all in love. She sat at the singles bar hoping to find someone; she hopes for someone special, someone different. Then he came, He was charming, smooth, and sincere. She couldn't say why, he just appeared that way. He was handsome but unmemorable. His eyes, his hair, his body; they were gorgeous but indescribable, a walking image of déjà vu. He disappears into a crowd and you don't find him again. He said all the right things, made all the right moves. He was kind and lovely. A red rose? For me? How romantic…
Julia and her partner cover the small wooden door in the slums. A SWAT team assembles behind them. The single fingerprint on his love letter led them to this appartment. They had found him, James Maddock, a parolee on an assault charge five years ago. It took only two hours to hunt him down. The super confirmed James had arrived a few hours ago late last night. Now it was time -SLAM!- SWAT destroys the door. They rush in. Julia pulls her gun The room isn't bare, its empty. Nothing on the walls or the floor…almost nothing “Julia in here!” She walks towards her partner. She sees Maddock “DAMMIT!” She kicks the corpse once in anger. Her partner restrains her. The body still had to be processed. “He was fucking playing with us! The motherfucker's still out there” “How do you know this wasn't his pick this year, sending you the letter with the victim's fingerprint on it” She looks back at her partner incredulously “No. He doesn't get sloppy if he doesn't have to. This was quick… unplanned even. No art in the way the body is arranged, no cryptic puzzle drawn on the wall, and it isn't even midnight yet… besides…he likes to sign his work”
The room is dark, her silken bed is covered in rose petals. She only sees the ceiling; her head would not turn… She felt when the needle plunged into her neck, she felt the gravel on the road when she toppled to earth, and she felt his hands as he lifted her breathing corpse. She felt it all but could not move. Not a shudder, not a twitch, not even a blink Her mind pounds with fears, worries, screams, Her lifeless body slumps with a lover's smile plastered to the cheeks, an effect of the toxin. He returns, this time with a more memorable face. The mask of bone covers his features, turning him into the monster. She would never see his human face again. He reaches and lightly brushes her cheek, no objection is made. “Relax my love… You are not numb. You will feel everything… Are you ready my love… I will make you beautiful, I will make you mine” Her mind screams no, but her motionless eyes beg yes. It was cold and wet. Her pupils trying to look down were uselessly stuck in her head. The gore pours over her chest red, wet, and cold. The smell like copper fills her nostrils. Her belly is bathed into a deep crimson. He took the brush and paints her. The brush dips between her lips coloring them a blushing scarlet. She could taste the cold blood between her teeth. Like biting a penny He covers her eyes to make crimson mascara, traces a bloody heart over her breast. Swirls of deep scarlet soon cover her torso, arms, and legs. He is almost done. He brings another bowl of dark blood to the bed and lifts her resigned head. He leaves her for now, letting the blood tattoo her skin and dye her curls. She says nothing, a single tear mixing with the red circles around her face.
“How can you not know anything? Haven't you been studying him for the past two years? Did you just get bored?!” “Detective Stone it isn't that simple, and you of all people should know that” Julia relaxed a bit, the FBI profiler was not shaken by her outburst. Nothing shocked him anymore, “Most serial killers are very particular. They have a zone of comfort, a certain style, and from that style we can determine their mindset… but your killer changes his MO style slightly every year. Different types of victims, different murder weapons, different love letters” He points to the three letters written in blood sitting on the table. “The first year he claimed that all lovers were un-pure before the eyes of God, that they needed to be cleansed. He signed his letter as the Saint. He had a need to purge and save the world… The next year he said it was revenge for all the pain the world caused him. Said everyone who was happy needed to die. Begged us to “make the voices stop”. This indicates a manic-depressive schizophrenic… The latest letter, the one he wrote to you, shows no signs of anything earlier predicted. He just acts like the average ego-centric sociopath. He reinvents himself every year, shifting motive, logic, justification to something new. I can't predict him, I can't get inside his head… He'll keep killing, year after year, until someone puts a bullet through him”
When St. Valentine returns his love is stirring. Her fingers twitch with anticipation, her eyes flutter wildly Gently he cradles her head. Another syringe shoots into her veins. A moment later... the twitching stops… her face returns the loving smile “Are you ready my love. Do you know what day it is? It's Valentine's day... And I have a little present for you.” He lifts his doll to a sturdy chair. He places her carefully, as not to fall or slump to the side. She looks back at him silently “Every lover I've ever had has gotten this gift from me. I make it better every year. That means this one is the best so far. Enjoy my love…” He turns to the screen behind him and presses play. The images jump forth. A loving couple embracing in sex… A corpse hanging from a tree… A naked woman staring into the camera… The same woman garroted to suffocation… The images are subliminal, moving fast enough to see but not recognize. Every half second one surpasses another, the pace is daunting and disorienting. She watches the images emotionless. Her eyes cannot close, cannot look away. He kisses her head, then places the headphones around her ears. They whisper to her. “You love…obey…must…die…love…submit…love…equals…death…DIE…my love…submit” She listens oh so contently, He smiles at his work. “Sweet dreams my love…”
-Slam- Another door is kicked open Julia enters Carrie's apartment gun drawn. She looks left, then right. She see's the bloody figure, her trigger finger touches the metal “Hello Detective Julia Stone, I was told to wait for you” Julia hesitates on the trigger. The woman is layered in blood, a dark smile on her face. Her hips sway side to side, casually ignoring the gun barrel pointed towards her “Carrie, I'm with the police. We can help you” A girlish giggle escapes the ruby lips “Don't be ridiculous. I love him, I don't need your help… I know how we can be together… You should join us Julia…” Julia carefully stalks towards the young woman. She laughs again. Quickly she turns towards the back of the apartment, Julia follows, “No Carrie don't” Its too late, the girl has already taken her first step onto the balcony rail. She stands precariously above the four stories of sprawling metropolis below her. Again the lover's smile crosses her face “You should join us Julia, he loves you…more than he loves me…we should be together…but he loves you…I know how we'll be together…forever… As Carrie tilts back over the edge Julia lunges forward Julia's fingers reach only inches short. The girl giggles a final time. Carrie falls like a ragdoll onto the concrete, Her head brakes into a million pieces over the sidewalk. Her bloody smile still grinning to her lover. He watches from the shadow… Midnight tolls “Happy Valentines Day Julia” | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
