WARNING: This story contains mature themes, including graphic sexual content, nudity, violence, murder, and offensive language. If you do not wish to read such content, please do not proceed to read any further!
Summary: Things have been a little rocky between Rachel and Zack. When he returns from a disastrous outing, he realizes something important about his relationship with Ray.
A New Promise
Chapter 1
It was cold outside, but Zack barely felt it. It was late in the evening and he was alone, wondering the town aimlessly. He'd angrily left the cabin that he shared with Rachel earlier that night to clear his head. He trashed the whole place out of anger moments before he'd stormed out. Thinking back, he couldn't even remember what exactly had kick-started his temper in the first place. Whatever it was, the underlying cause was likely just boredom and agitated nerves- anxiety from trying to smother his... urges. He'd just needed to destroy stuff to get it out of his system. Now that the incident was over and his irrational behavior had subsided, he couldn't shake the dull ache in his chest. He hated the feeling, though he didn't really know what it meant.
He'd wondered the virtually empty streets for hours until he wound up at a noisy bar in a semi-shady part of town. It was risky to mingle so casually in public, but it seemed like a decent place to sit down and not think for awhile.
He pulled his hood up over his head in hopes that no one would recognize him as he approached the establishment. When he entered, there were a gang of bikers playing pool to his left. To the right, a dance floor of people who were obviously very drunk were grinding against each other and dancing erotically. A table beyond that was occupied by a group of attractive scantily clad women taking shots and whooping and hollering, celebrating some sort of special occasion. A few other stragglers were scattered, casually drinking as well.
He was beginning to think he'd made a mistake by walking in to such a place, but he was already there. He quickly disregarded the other occupants of the building and sat down at the bar, his head pounding. He buried his head in his hands over the counter, feeling too mentally exhausted lately for his usual brash behavior. Throwing such a tantrum had tired him out. Ray had really been driving him insane as of late. Well, more insane than he already was.
He had the growing suspicion that she was intentionally trying to make him mad, as if passive aggressively pressuring him to fulfill his end of their promise to kill her. For the past 2 weeks, she’d been telling white lies, knowing how much it pissed him off. She’d constantly ask if there was anything she could do to be useful and practically waited on him hand and foot. She even managed to force a few tears after he’d yelled at her, but he could tell that they weren’t authentic because she hadn’t even looked upset. She still had the same maddening dull look on her face, even as her blue depths gleamed with tears.
"What'll it be?" The gruff voice of the man behind the bar asked, inquiring as to what alcoholic beverage he'd like to order. The burly bearded man stood with a glass in his hand, wiping it dry with a rag.
Zack pondered for a moment if drinking was a good idea. It wasn't, he determined, but he was going to do it anyway. Since when did he ever have good judgement? "Some kind of beer. Surprise me," he finally answered, throwing some wadded up bills on the counter from his pocket. The tender nodded, accepting the money and going to fetch it.
Zack sighed heavily, running a hand through his unkept hair. Rachel used to say that his agreement to kill her and her wish to die were because of their own choice; It was supposed to be a mutual arrangement, but more and more lately he was beginning to feel more pressured by her. He was beginning to feel like just the tool she needed to get the job done and get what she wanted… And he wasn’t a tool.
The tender had just delivered his beer as a shapely blonde in a tight mini skirt came up to the bar beside him and ordered another drink for herself. She glanced over at Zack and smiled seductively. “Hi,” she spoke loudly over the commotion of the bar to get his attention, “I’m Samantha.”
He looked up from his beer skeptically and she offered her left hand to him, a wedding ring on her finger. Her lowcut shirt said ‘Bride-to-Be’ in fancy glittery lettering.
He hadn’t killed anyone in awhile. Lately he'd been feeling a lot like a junkie who needed a fix, especially with all of Ray’s poking and prodding at the malevolent demon inside of him. “Bachelorette party?” He asked, trying to keep the annoyance from showing as he gestured to her shirt and forced himself to politely shake her hand. A fly just stumbled into his web, and he knew it’d take all of his restraint to just let her go now. He couldn’t kill anyone; He was supposed to be laying low, he reminded himself.
“Yeah, but… not married yet.” She quickly dismissed his comment and sat in the stool beside him, “So what’s your name?” The man behind the bar gave her the drink she ordered and she sipped it generously through the straw, leaning slightly forward in a provocative manner.
“Zack,” he answered, rather reserved. He was all over the news as ‘Isaac Foster,’ the infamous serial killer. He hoped she wouldn’t notice a connection.
“You like shots, Zack? Let me buy you one,” she offered.
“No, I don’t thin-“
“Two shots of tequila over here also, please?” she ignored him and ordered before he could decline. He could tell she was already pretty drunk, her breath wreaking of alcohol. She was wearing heels with tight, revealing clothes and was apparently determined to cheat on her fiancé. She was just the type he couldn’t resist killing; this bitch was making it so incredibly tempting for him to scratch his nagging itch.
He grew weary at his own thoughts and contemplated if he should just skip out on her and go home. He knew 'scratching the itch' wouldn't make the real problem he had back at the cabin just go away. His urges were sometimes more difficult to control when he was drunk and he couldn’t afford to be caught.
The bartender slid two shots their way and she handed one to him. “Bottoms up,” she declared, raising her glass. Against his better judgement, he went with the flow, watching her down her shot as he hesitantly did the same.
She ‘woo’ed and slammed her empty shot glass down on the bar. Her carefree and wild demeanor made him want to see the terror in her eyes. “So what’s with the brooding mummy look?” she teased. "Halloween isn't for like, another 3 weeks." She glanced over at her friends at the nearby table who were giggling and giving her thumbs up and other forms of encouragement.
“What’s with the slutty hooker look?” he countered, hoping to dodge the question and his eyes narrowing as the women at the nearby table, presumably her friends, made lewd gestures at them.
She gasped in forged offense at his hurtful jab, “Touché” She turned back around and sipped her drink some more. He was relieved she didn’t pursue it further.
He and the persistent woman engaged in meaningless small talk for awhile, although he mostly stayed quiet and let her do the talking. During that time, she’d ordered about 4 more shots for them both before she turned to him and leaned in to suggestively whisper, “Hey, you wanna go somewhere more private?” A naughty smile grew on her lips.
He hesitated but the intoxicated fogginess in his brain allowed her to drag him off the bar stool with less than good intentions. Their game of cat and mouse was about to come to an abrupt end. Sadly, she probably thought she was the cat.
She grabbed her coat and purse off the table she was sitting at with her friends before she had approached him. Her friends catcalled them as she pulled him out the door. She was practically doing all the work for him, just begging to be murdered.
When they got outside, they were met with the brisk chill of the night air. She promptly lead him around the corner of the nearest alley. She threw down her purse and backed him up into the wall. She fervently fisted his hair and pushed her tongue into his mouth. Her eyes were closed in lustful passion but his remained open as he stared down at her. She pressed her body and breasts against him and he allowed himself to be a bystander for awhile, watching her and not participating. The woman was obviously too drunk to notice he wasn’t into it. He was too busy imagining and anticipating her demise.
She trailed from his mouth to his ear and worked her way down, biting and sucking at any exposed flesh she could find along his jaw and neck. Meanwhile, her hands groped him lustfully and wondered down his body to unfastening his pants.
She had no idea she was about to die. The monster within him had emerged to take the wheel and forced all sanity and reason into the passenger seat as he spouted his usual line. “I’ll give you three seconds to run before I kill you,” He warned nonchalantly, a predatory gleam in his eye. The corner of his mouth upturned, “Three.”
She giggled, stopping to look up at him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Two,” He loomed over her. The shadows created by the minimal light of the nearby streetlamp illumined his face in a menacing way. He watched the suggestive look in her eyes falter and then grow wide with genuine fear. She took a shaky breath, a chill running down her spine.
“One.”
She screamed, but his rough hand covered her mouth. He shoved her back against the cold brick of the building before she could attempt to run.
Her virtually bare legs reared up to kick at him, making contact with his abdomen. It stalled him only a moment, having very little effect on him. He still had her trapped, but she had freed herself just enough to pull and object from the inside of her coat. He grabbed her hand just as a loud, ear piercing bang echoed through the night.
He flinched, his ears ringing and vaguely disregarding the sharp pang in his thigh. A gun? She was going to draw too much attention, he noted. He needed to speed things up.
Angry, he managed to pin her down again with more determination. He didn’t allow enough room for her to struggle his time, one of his legs pressed between hers to subdue her, her incredibly short skirt riding up even further.
He readied his blade against her belly, anxious to put an end to her nuisance and leave before anyone came to investigate the gunshot. He plunged his knife into her stomach, relishing the feeling of his blade separating her flesh and the choked gasp that left her lips. Tears streamed down her face and he stabbed her again and again, life draining out of her with every jab. He heard the firearm clamor to the ground, clashing with the concrete but he paid no attention. He watched in pleasure as the terror in her wide eyes slowly glazed into shock before fading into dull emptiness.
His heart raced and he was slightly out of breath as he stared at her lifeless corpse pinned between him and the wall. It was just chilly enough that his breath escaped him in puffs of white. He’d enjoyed the rush. Killing her satisfied him at first, until an unexpected thought occurred to him. As he looked at her, the dead woman suddenly reminded him an awful lot of Ray.
Somehow, he’d overlooked that she held a striking resemblance to the smaller blonde waiting for him at the cabin. The corpse’s dead weight had fallen against him and he let her crumple to the ground, backing away feeling rather disturbed. He stared down at the woman’s long blonde tresses and dead blue eyes still open, her body sprawled on the ground with blood pooling beneath her. He couldn’t shake the vision of Ray in the woman’s place, even though logic and reason told him it wasn’t her.
The smell of blood permeated the air, and he was covered in it. The gun the woman had fired laid nearby her body and he began to realize he was bleeding too, his blood seeping through his pants and running down his leg to add to hers.
His hallucination, the mixture of alcohol, and perhaps loss of blood was proving incompatible, as he began to feel nauseated. Bile suddenly rose from the pit of his stomach and he turned away to vomit. He wiped his mouth and decided it was time to head head back to the cabin. He snatched the woman's purse so that it would look more like a robbery than the work of a serial killer and quickly stumbled out of the alley to go home.
A/N: Chapter 2 should be coming soon! Please leave a review below if you enjoyed reading. They are a great source of motivation and deeply appreciated :)