"Yeah, I had a good time too." Rory ran his fingers through his short brown hair. He was walking home from an evening at the bar and tried not to slur his words. He hadn't had much to drink but the evening air had made him lightheaded.
It was dark and campus was empty. He had hoped to have company on his walk home but Vanessa was playing hard to get. That was cool, he dug it. If she had made it easy, he might have lost interest. They'd had a good time talking and playing pool though, so he'd decided to call her.
It was hard to find a girl that wasn't half naked or puking by this time of night, so she'd caught his attention.
"No, I get it. I've got class in the morning too. No, Tuesday night I'm working, but what about Wednesday—Cool." He could see Gordon Street up ahead and knew he was close to the end of campus. He couldn't wait to get home and lay in his bed. He was about to say goodnight to Vanessa when someone walked into him.
"Hey, what the hell man," he said as he bent over to pick up his phone. He brushed it off.
"You ran into me. Maybe you should get off your phone and watch where you're going," the guy snapped back. He was about Rory's height but a total hipster douche bag. His hair was a mess of curls and his jacket looked a hundred years old.
Rory was about to tell the guy to fuck off when he heard awkward, heavy steps approaching them.
"Seriously?" Rory turned to see who else was coming to join their little party, but he'd never get the chance. He was suddenly ripped off the ground and shaken violently through the air, like a dog toy, his limbs flailing, until he hit the ground with a heavy thud.
He heard screaming and tearing and snapping noises which he couldn't understand. He stared up into the bleak and almost starless night sky, unable to move or think. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was torn open—with most of him now covering the grass and sidewalk.
He wondered when he was going to feel the pain or if he would die before then. A shadow passed over him and he found himself staring into two vibrant violet eyes. The woman's face was partially covered by a thick, beige sweater. She reached down and he assumed she was touching his face.
He watched on, paralyzed and thoughtless, as she pulled down the fabric of her sweater. Long blonde hair fell and cradled her stunningly pale face. "Vanessa will be crushed when you stand her up. I wonder if you are only beautiful or if there is more to you, laying dormant—somewhere deep within."
She produced a large blade and carelessly dragged it along her wrist. Blood spurted and ran crimson, dripping onto him. Before Rory could register any thoughts about it, she gripped his jaw, held his mouth open, and shoved her bleeding wrist against his lips. Unable to struggle, the last thing he remembered was the taste of warm iron, and the thundering sound of a heartbeat before he drifted into a consuming abyss.
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