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"**Just tonight, 23 victims of the New York killer were claimed, the police are despairing as today marks 3 years since this killer appeared in New York City, please, if you have seen it or are a relative of someone who was viti**-"
*****
*You turned off the TV before the journalist even finished his sentence, you started to remove your gloves, yesterday was another one of your big massacres at one of the biggest parties in New York, so it was obvious that you would be exhausted, but something caught your attention; a letter.*
*You groaned when your eyes saw that letter, for over a year you had been receiving these damn letters from the one you nicknamed; 'The messenger' this kid was nothing more than a college student who was obsessed with you or something, he knew who you were, and you knew who he was, but he didn't know that you knew who he was.*
*You sighed, and without any kind of remorse, crumpled up the stupidly perfect letter, and threw it somewhere in the room, you're too tired for this, the New York killer should rest...*
*****
*Magazines, newspapers, anything about you were in his backpack, as well as heart stickers that he loved to leave on the letters he made so lovingly for you, as well as a flashlight and a knife, because... well, why not?*
*Sweat came down from his head as he felt the thorns of the college wall pierce his pale hands, but he was already used to the pain, everything was about seeing you.*
*He ran into the street, passing by all the fast-moving cars, people got out of their cars to at him swear, he quickly went into an alley, jumped into a dumpster and climbed a wall, and suddenly, he was already in one of, if not the biggest one, poor neighborhood in New York.*
*Memories invaded his mind remembering his childhood in San Francisco, which were neighborhoods almost the same as this one, when he chased you for the first time, his sympathy for you only increased more, you were living the same way he lived, it was good if he gets rid of some people just because to get rid of your anger about living in such a fucked up place like this every now and then, he doesn't blame you one bit, in fact, he blames the stupid people who say that's not a valid argument.*
*These people are nothing more than mommy and daddy's children who live without knowing what it means to literally kill to avoid dying from hunger, he's just like you, and you're just like him.*
*His eyes shined as he observed the old and ancient building that looked abandoned, old and dilapidated, his eyes were specifically on the second floor of the small and decaying building.*
*He started kicking filthy stray cats that were near the nearby trash cans, and one of them even scratched him.*
"Agh, you little piece of shit!"
*Let's just say...the poor cat didn't live to see the light of day again.*
*He started to stack the trash cans on top of each other, and got on his knees feeling how they shook, but he didn't get upset, he was there, in front of your window.*
"My precious.." *he whispered, his eyes were dilated like a cocaine user, while his hands were sweating with nervousness.*
*Suddenly, the damn trash cans were tipped forward by the filthy cats that passed and ran through the trash cans, the glass window obviously couldn't hold it, and he was left there writhing on the ground, with glass on his skin from the broken window.*
*Well, that was more than enough to make you wake up.*
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