Page 60 of Beneath Her Skin

I took a step back, my finger poised over the trigger, face and clothes streaked with blood. Playtime was over. I was done talking to the dude, and it was time I went for something that had more…lasting effects. I cocked my head to the side and cackled, Randy’s terrified eyes following me like a hawk as I approached the sad-looking area between his legs. His cock was limp and pathetic-looking, definitely not the huge, magnificent sight macho guys liked to boast about. I dropped to my knees and gave it a solid pump, then two, watching it react to my touch and thicken ever so slightly, all the while glancing at Randy behind hooded lashes. Confusion marred his features as he watched me until realization dawned on his face, and he gave another muffled cry as he started shaking his head.

But by then, it was already too late. The drill was already cutting into the head of his cock and traveling downward,peeling it open as if it were a banana. Blood and viscera sprayed out of the organ, soaking my face, neck, and entire front half of my shirt. My hair was greased with the substance, red dripping down to plop onto the tile below. And still, I continued to eviscerate his manhood, all the while the man screamed.

But then, as if someone flicked a switch, the screaming suddenly stopped. I quickly glanced up from my handiwork and noticed Randy’s head was slumped forward, his eyes beginning to gloss over. Drool pooled from his mouth to dribble down his chin, and his eyes were closed. One look at the slow rise and fall of his chest told me he was still alive, just passed out.

Though he wouldn’t be alive for long.Pity.

There was only so much pain the human body could take before it shut down to protect itself, but I still wished that weren’t the case. A sadistic part of me wanted Randy awake so he could feel every morsel of pain I was to inflict upon him.

No matter. Just kill him and be done with it. Playtime’s over anyway.

I pressed down on the trigger and drilled through both of Randy’s eyes. Then, I drilled an arc across his neck, thus completing the kill. And last was writing his crime on his chest so whoever found him would know exactly what he did to deserve his fate.

ABUSER.

I returned to the bedroom soon after only to find the woman exactly where I left her, still passed out. Relief surged through me at the steady rise and fall of her chest, indicating she was okay and now safe. Then, I grabbed my stuff from the bathroom and left the apartment shortly after, not even bothering with the police. Someone else had already called them, if the sound of sirens directly outside the building was of any indication, and the only thing I could do now was to return to my place, take yetanother shower, burn my clothes in the fireplace, and clean and sanitize my weapon.

Barron still wasn’t home when I returned, giving me plenty of time to do so. And he still hadn’t returned a good hour or so after I had finished. The police were obviously already on the scene I had left behind, if the shuffling and muffled voices from the apartment across the hall were of any indication. My heart leapt up in my throat as I thought about what this could mean. I tried being as careful as I could, but given how rushed I had been in the moment, the potential for mistakes was huge. And I had no way to explain to Barron what happened if the police came knocking on the door.

But they didn’t, and they were long gone before my cousin finally stumbled in. I watched from my peephole as a stream of paramedics took the woman to the hospital, and after doing one more sweep of the place, the cops followed suit.

And once Barron returned home with a fresh set of dark bags resting under his eyes, it was well after midnight. It seemed his night had gone rough as well. I got up off the couch to greet him, but he held up a hand to stop me, offering me a small smile and a shake of his head. Then, he disappeared into his room for the night without uttering a single word to me.

Weird.

4

Ididn’t find out until the next day the extent of Randy’s actions. From the brief interaction I’d had with him, I’d already figured he had been abusing his wife, but I didn’t know all the details, nor did I know that he actually had plans to kill her the night I had intervened. It felt good, in a sense, that I was the sole reason she was still alive. She had confessed everything to the police, of course, now that shecouldsafely tell them everything. The only detail she left out was me because apparently, she hadn’t gotten a good look at me before she had passed out, and I supposed that was a blessing in disguise. And the police were too preoccupied in the case of a would-be murderer that they didn’t do as thorough a check as they should have.

I managed to slip away completely scot-free, but not before a string of anxiety flare-ups gave me pause. Of the police figuring it out and knocking on my door, of them somehow finding me while in class, or of them questioning Barron in an effort to pull an incriminating answer out of him regarding me. None of that happened, but I had to be more careful. I hadn’t been wearing gloves like I usually do, and if they had done a fingerprint check,I would’ve been done for. I had been extremely lucky, and I knew my slip-ups couldn’t happen again. I had to be more careful.

It was definitely a miracle. And way, way too close. That was also why I always made sure to wear my slasher outfit whenever I went hunting so I was protected to the best of my ability. Unfortunately, I hadn’t had a lot of time to prepare, so I’d gone with what I could, but if things hadn’t worked out the way they had, I could have been sitting in a cold, hard prison cell awaiting trial right now. And because I was technically a serial killer, I knew I was never getting out and would either be looking at a life sentence or the death penalty.

The next night had to be different. My slasher outfit was clean and ready for another patrol, and I had finished with classes for the evening. Barron and I had just finished nuking our respective TV dinners in the microwave and sat at the table together, chairs turned towards the news as we prepared to eat.

Not surprisingly, they were talking about me. The Incel Annihilator, at least according to the various news outlets and social media platforms. It was a name that filled me with glee because it meant that I was as much a hot topic around the city as the Hooded Killer was, the only one who seemed to be able to match his energy, since my victims were of theoppositedemographic. They were interviewing the woman from last night, who apparently had been discharged from the hospital this morning. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was glad her husband was dead. I could only imagine how long her husband had been abusing her, and if it wasn’t for the fact she had been completely out of it when police had arrived, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they thoughtshehad killed him.

Then again, maybe not, considering my kills were very,veryrecognizable. And very,veryover-the-top.

Of course, throughout the entire story, they kept referring to me as ahe, because God forbid a woman has the stomach andwillpower for such heinous violence. The world still had a really bad habit of underestimating women. It made me angry, but at the same time, it also made me want to laugh at their ignorance.

Beside me, Barron just shook his head as he bit off a piece of his fried chicken. “Can you believe this? Two serial killers, both who target completely opposite demographics. It’s unreal.”

I let out a humorless chuckle and stabbed a piece of my country-fried steak with my fork. “It’s almost comical. What if they meet at some point?”Which they will. Very, very soon.

Barron scoffed. “This isserious, Selina! This isn’t a joke! This means no one is safe!”

I glanced up from my meal, my gaze meeting my cousin’s. His eyes were wide, his face white as a sheet. And it took every ounce of me not to burst out laughing because in that moment, I realized just how frightened Barron was. Barron, who just a couple nights ago had a hard time understanding whyIwas fearful about the Hooded Killer.

Oh, how the tables have turned.“I can’t believe this. Are youscared, Barron?”

My cousin’s shoulders dropped, and his gaze fell to his meal. “I mean, Iama man, so…”

I sucked in a deep breath.Guess it’s my turn to try to be comforting.“The famed Incel Annihilator only goes after those who hurt women. So as long as you don’t hurt a woman, you’re safe.”

Barron stiffed.Okay, not the reaction I was expecting.

I sucked in a deep breath. “You haven’t hurt a woman, have you, Barron?” I asked carefully, scooting closer so I could hear his answer.

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