Story # 1 The Hunt Begins

The Hunt begins.

Don’t dwell on the past or what is yet to be. “What utter Bullshit,” thought Anna. Every self-help book she had read had the same old philosophy. Try to forget what happened; embrace the present and who knows what light the future will bring. If only it was that easy. Fifteen, that was her count till today. No, not her age. It was the number of people she had killed and the tattooed birds on her back represented them. The blue jay was the recent addition. She had just gotten in yesterday. It was thrilling to remember how she had almost been caught this time. She had been following this man for days now, and she could say with confidence that she knew him better than he knew himself.

Gabriel, height 6’2, age 30, an alcoholic, a private detective, number of suicide attempts: Four. Every Saturday he would go to this support group, talk about his dead wife, of how he didn’t want to live anymore because she was gone and Anna would just sit there, listening, observing until she found the right moment to strike. She thought of killing him in his own house, make it look like a robbery gone wrong, or she could drug him and slit his wrists to make it look like he committed suicide. No one would even doubt it. But where was the fun in that? She had killed her previous victim Mrs Berkley with a butcher knife, then scattered the pieces all over her rose garden. What beautiful sight it was, appealing to only a true aesthetic which she considered herself to be. She had gotten a hawk to represent that woman, right near her shoulder blade. Every person she had killed till date, she killed in a unique way, because (a) Experimenting was fun, (b) no one could link them together and so (c) It won’t be classified as the work of a serial killer which meant she could enjoy her freedom because there’s no way the police will ever catch her. She was careful about that, even had rules that she made. They protected her, kept her safe, hidden.

Never kill twice in a month.

Only one person from one city

No killing cops.

Don’t leave anything behind.

Some people liked leaving signatures on their work. Not her though. She wasn’t looking to make a name for herself. She was just freeing people, like she freed Gabriel. She met him in the support group, pretended to be a broken sad girl that men can never resist. They feed on vulnerability. This was her first mistake. One should never get close to the victim, it just makes things complicated but seeing the melancholy in his heart day after day, she just wanted to ease that pain. And so she walked with him, to his home and when he kissed her, she let him. Hydrogen cyanide, that’s how she killed him. She could’ve chosen a painless way for him to die but he had become so used to the agony, it seemed almost poetic that his last moments alive would be excruciating.

When Anna went back home, she went straight to bed. There’s nothing like a good murder to help you fall asleep. Killing someone has a way of making you feel powerful, in control and invincible. So she closed her eyes and envisioned the night in her mind, playing the scene in her head again and again. When she slept with Gabriel, she wasn’t thinking about him as her victim. He was just so lonely, such desperation in his eyes for a momentary relief and she provided that necessary distraction. But afterwards when she had poisoned him, and cleaned up the place, wiping every fingerprint, every indication of her being there, she had arranged his body on the couch and then walked out. That’s when she saw Inspector Nicolas parking outside. Damn! He had a habit of coming to Gabriel when he needed help with some hard case and they’d just sit around all night drinking and talking. Anna knew this because she would be at the roof of the building opposite to his apartment, looking through her binoculars. She always stalked her prey before moving in for the hunt. If Nicolas went inside now, he’d see that Gabriel was dead and some people had seen her walk with Gabriel at the end of the support group meeting. What if somebody made a connection? The fear of getting caught was enthralling, a different kind of thrill maybe even better than the actual kill. But how to get out of this situation she was trapped in. She couldn’t kill the people who saw her with Gabriel at the support group. That would be messy and a violation of the rules. The only way was to stop Inspector from coming in. What if she locked the door? Maybe he’d assume Gabriel was drunk and passed out. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t get suspicious,” she muttered to herself. So that’s what she did. Nicolas banged on the door a couple of times calling out to Gabriel while she stood on the other side breathing slowly, calming herself. This isn’t how it ends for her, it couldn’t be. She still has to free more birds. Luckily, Nicolas left. She waited an hour before walking out. And now here she was, lying in her bed with not a single worry in the world. When she woke up the next day, she saw the book on her shelf. She threw it in the trash. Her past had made her what she was. If she wasn’t beaten up by her addict mother and bullied by her foster siblings, she never would’ve run away. She wouldn’t have wished for death every night that she spent starving on the streets. And if that hadn’t happened why would she be helping people today? Freeing them from the pain and misery that shackled them. She remembered selling her body to feed herself and how some men would just come to her, to talk about their pathetic little lives, sometimes wishing for it to end. That was when the idea came to her. She found people like Gabriel, Miss Berkley and thirteen others who were tired of living and she gave them the release they desired but were too afraid to embrace. These books know nothing, she thought.  I am helping people and I will keep doing it. She could see the future in front of her, all clear and laid out like an elaborate scheme. The Hunt begins.