Alex's Point of View
I walked out of the room with a smile on my face; everything was within my grasp, and without a doubt, I would accomplish it.
I picked up my phone and called Faith. "Hello." I said, as the elevator doors whirred open.
"What's up?" She replied, her tone muffled as if her mouth was choked with more food than normal.
"I want you to book me a private session with our special lawyer; I'm getting married." I said, with a smile on my face.
"Marriage?" Faith exclaims, repeating the words.
"I'll explain to you once we meet up, but for now do what I asked." I replied, hanging up the phone.
As the elevator doors closed behind me, I allowed myself a moment of satisfaction. This phase is going to be tough, but with Faith on my side, I'll pull through without any hitch.
* * *
Isabella's Point of View
As the night wore on, I just couldn't stop thinking about the crazy proposal I made. I was going to get married for the eighteenth time, but this time it was different.
Every single time I think about Alex, I can feel the chills down my spine, my body shivering as I try to place my hands on why I really need to do this.
I stood up from the bed and walked towards the glass walls, staring directly at the street. My thoughts still filled with Alex, what I felt for him wasn't love, not after what I did to Kiernan. But unlike Kiernan, Alex's eyes don't just tempt me; they challenge me, and the thought of him slipping from my grasp fills me with an unbearable ache—one I don't know how to quiet.
The sudden urge to kill flooded me, my bloodlust oozing and the metallic scent of blood steaming in my nose. Every car passing through had the potential to be my next prey, but up until now I've always been fixated on a single prey at a time.
My thoughts strode back to Kiernan, my fifth prey; his plea for mercy still haunts me, not because I regretted it but because it was perfect. And every kill since then had paled in comparison to what I felt when I plunged the knife into Kiernan. But Alex… Alex had the potential to be better if I could break him and tear him piece by piece like I did with Kiernan.
I came back home, and he stood there staring at me; his eyes glittered as usual, but the air was thick and filled with the scent of alcohol. "Have you been drinking?" I asked, standing and staring deep into his eyes for an answer.
But he didn't give me an answer; he merely walked back into the sitting room and brought out a jar filled with blood and labelled third.
"How?" I whispered, my confusion palpable, as I had made sure to keep this blood in a very safe place. But I couldn't leave him right after that; he had crossed the line, and his luck ran out.
I walked towards him slowly while he moved backwards, grinning with his tear-filled eyes, begging for help. But all his pleas fell on my deaf ears.
He struck the wall and couldn't move anymore; his heartbeat sounded loud enough to make a beat while I dropped my bag, bringing out my knife, my breath on his skin, and his body and fingers trembling before I whispered in his ears. "I'm sorry, baby, but your time is up."
At that moment I saw the fear strike him more deeply. His eyes popped out like he had seen a ghost, and my desire awoke: "Yes, that's more like it." I whispered to myself, smiling cunningly before plunging the knife in his chest.
He spurted his blood on my face, and I stared at him as he groaned for his last breath.
And like that my mission was done. I made sure to tear every limb, and I collected his blood before finally setting the house, cars, and every single thing left in the compound ablaze.
I watched everything razed to the ground, and I laughed maniacally.
Up until this moment I still haven't savored the taste I enjoyed when I killed Kiernan, but my heart keeps telling me Alex would be better.
But a moment of realization flashed through my eyes as I questioned my ability for the first time ever, "Would I really be able to kill him?" I whispered to myself, and I continued to drown myself in the question while standing in the same spot.
Thirty minutes passed, and I finally got myself an answer as clear as blood on snow; killing wasn't just an art; it was my whole bloodline. I have little memory of my childhood, and severally I see the riches and wealth I've gathered as a blessing.
I don't even remember what my parents looked like or how they died. If they were killing us, then why do I have to stop it because of someone?
My mind was made up: "I'll kill him on the 100th day of the game no matter the outcome." With that resolve I walked back to my bed and lay facing the ceiling.
"Alex would be the masterpiece, one hundred days to savor him, to unravel him piece by piece, thread by thread, till he had nothing left but his final breath." I thought with a mischievous grin playing on my lips.
The air was chilly as it wafted through the air conditioner slowly; I closed my eyes and slept off.
"Isabella," I heard a faint voice call out to me in a dimly lit room. The voice was distant but close, and the more I got closer, the softer it got, like a lover's breath. I tried to figure out who was calling me by getting closer to the voice, but the closer I got, the darker the room got. But as soon as I froze right at that spot, I heard someone call out to me again, and I jumped up suddenly, my heart beating rapidly while I gasped for air.
"Was it a dream?" I thought, but it felt so real. I stood up and yawned. I walked into the bathroom and poured some water on my face.
I walked out of the bathroom feeling rejuvenated; the day was moving fast, and the sun was already getting brighter. I checked the time, and it was some minutes to nine.
I freaked out immediately as I ran back into the bathroom to get a bath. "My wedding is coming, and after that the game starts." I whispered, as the cold shower hit my skin, smiling mischievously.