Disclaimer: I do not own twilight or any of these affiliations.

Warning!

This fic is horror and this is my warning that people will die and heavily too.

THIS IS A VOTING FIC MEANING YOU GUYS GET TO DECIDE WHO DIES AT THE END OF EVERY WEEK. MORE ON THAT AT THE BOTTOM.

My thanks and love go to ssarrahh1 who is my awesome pre-reader and who has supported this thing since the beginning.

And my awesome beta BeanFlickn247 who pointed out my many grammar mistakes and gave you guys a less messy fic to read. Thank you so much Connie.


Life is often cruel but more than that it's boring.

At a very young age I learned that life usually follows a routine, you are born and depending if life gives you lemons or not, you either die alone or die with way too many people at your side. Which begs the question, which one is better?

Option A has its possibilities, not everyone wants to be surrounded by people, some people like solitude, but more than that they enjoy not having to listen to a nagging wife or a crying toddler.

Option B however...

It's what everyone "sane" strives for because god forbid you go against the norm, a wife and caring children who will grow up and love their daddy and mommy, and will go to a good college only to go out, face life and repeat the process.

Have I mentioned how boring life is?

Let's focus now on the cruel part, what happens to all those people who don't die alone or surrounded by people? What happens when they just... disappear?

What happens to the drug addicts? The drunks? The people who don't want to be alone, but at the same time will always be alone?

The one thing that sucks about being an orphan is the inability to be alone and yet not at the same time. Surrounded by people who are supposed to take care of you but don't, counselors who say they will love you, but only treat you like shit. I hated the orphanage and every person in it except my friends of course, but that's a story for another day and so is my "sad" past.

Going back to the topic though, which one is better?

Well until I decide and Ms. Denali comes out of her apartment so I can blow her head off for what she did to me back at the bar, let me tell you guys a little story, it'll be a fun story I promise.

Of course your level of fun needs to be parallel to mine, but I digress.

Let me just start by saying that my old therapist told me I'm crazy and I shouldn't be let out into society, but what the fuck does he know? He was the one sent to jail for domestic violence he can't judge me, well he can't judge anyone anymore but whatever.

So I'm crazy and I won't deny it I rather embrace it and let out who I really am.

Movement from the building distracts me but it's not Denali, shit.

Pretty hot, tight little body and fucking long as hell blonde hair, that is Ms. Denali ladies and gentleman.

Speaking about blondes, let me tell you guys about my first.

There might be an innuendo there, take it as you will.

My first blonde was a little whore by the name of Lauren.


"You little whore!"

I punched her again, making sure to get more of her ribs this time.

I could hear them cracking with every punch and kick.

"My friend deserves so much better than you."

Well she could go to hell, and that's exactly where I was sending her.

After having her cheat on one of my best friends, dying is the least she deserved, how dare she play around on a man who clearly loved her?

"You ruined a lot of lives you little whore." I wasn't lying, since the little whore decided sleeping around would be a splendid idea, and word got back to my two best friends, one of them who happened to be dating her, it wasn't pretty. Jasper was crushed by her infidelity, and the poor guy had been so depressed ever since, but that's why I was here. I was going to help him heal, and killing the little whore seemed like the most enjoyable idea.

I prepare the knife in my hand, humming the tune for the exorcist under my breath, that song always sent chills down my spine and I fucking loved it. One day I hoped to be able to make someone's head spin like that.

"You need to wake up little whore, I need to see the pain in your eyes, I need to see how much you regret it." I also wanted to take a picture so when I feel sad or lonely I could look at the destroyed body and feel better. I sighed, if only I was able to keep physical evidence that would make this so much more enjoyable.

I kicked her again in annoyance, how dare she keep me waiting!

I needed to see the pain, regret and fear in her eyes.

But that's not the real reason, is it? A little voice in my head whispered.

"Shut up!" I kicked the whore's body again and put my hands over my ears.

"He'll go away, he always goes away." I whispered to myself, he always left me alone after I was done having my fun, my therapist said it was my conscious speaking to me, but fuck if I could kill the fucker inside my head I would.

I heard a whimper from the whore on the floor and I rolled my eyes. Dramatic bitch.

"Wh...at's goi...ng on?" She groaned in pain and closed her eyes.

Well I could tell her I was going to kill her but where's the fun in that?

"Hello there little whore."

She whimpered again and started scooting towards the wall as if it was going to protect her. I almost laughed at her face; no one was going to protect her now.

"Everything hurts," she cried brokenly. I rolled my eyes in annoyance again.

"Good." I smiled at her, going back to the knife on the counter, taking it in my hand before turning to face her again.

"Now little whore, I'm going to make you pay for all the things you have done okay?"

Grabbing her roughly by the arm, I pushed her hard against the wall, she cried out in pain before dropping to the floor.

I began to tear off her clothes while she continued whimpering in pain. In the back of my mind I realized I should probably have some sort of physical reaction to her nakedness, but the only thing I felt was disgust and the adrenaline rush I craved for every time I took a life.

So much better than drugs.

Once she was completely naked and whimpering in front of me, I began to run the knife over her body.

"You'll come to realizethis is a lot like sex little whore except I'm not seeking pleasure but pain from you. I know how much you enjoy sex and I want you to despise it as you take your last breath."

Before beginning my examination of the whore's body, I took one of her wrist in my hand and snapped it, she cried out in pain. I proceeded to do the same on the other wrist.

Breaking them was so much better than tying them. Of course I could chop them off but fuck that's too messy, and while I enjoy the sight of blood I'd rather not have to clean up more than necessary.

Picking up my knife again, I continue to trace her petite body with it.

"First, I know you like to kiss a lot of guys, and as I've been told, girls too." I took the knife before running it along her lips, she whimpered and moaned for me to stop but I was having none of that. I knew that at a subconscious level she might actually be enjoying this, and the disgust from earlier returned full force.

I pierced the skin on her lips, and made a perfect horizontal line on her bottom lip, I withdrew the knife from her body admiring the work I've done so far.

Her torso was covered in bruises, and I knew for a fact some of her bones were broken, besides her wrists of course, the blood on her lips was minimal but that's exactly what I wanted.

I have mention that killing people is an art right? The beauty resides within the pain, and how much of it you can give, the more pain the more beautiful the piece becomes.

"Now little whore, after you kiss someone, some foreplay usually follows, does it not?" I giggled at my own question; the high from all the activities was making me feel like I was on clouds.

Who needed drugs, when you can kill people?

"Foreplay usually consists of touching the breasts, does it not?"

I began to run the knife over her breasts, admiring the coloring from the bruises already forming on them. I was glad it was cold inside the room, it saved me from having to stimulate her body to get those little peaks up for me. I couldn't touch her sexually, I would probably vomit, she would receive pleasure, all my fun would end, and that is the last thing we want.

"The right one first," I murmured to myself.

I roughly grabbed a nipple between my fingers, and I dragged it up before slicing off with my knife.

I was rewarded with a scream of pain and a perfect little pink nipple in my hand. I was sad the little perfect nipple wasn't going to hold its shape; in hindsight I could see why men and women were attracted to the little whore. I discarded the nipple, cleaning my hands on a rag before continuing.

"I must say that even though you're a whore at least you are a pretty one." One last compliment in her otherwise worthless life; what can I say, I'm not a complete monster.

There was blood covering her chest now and the view was intoxicating.

"So beautiful." The blood, the bruises, the screams; another perfect master piece.

"The left one now." I proceeded to do the same, and the result was similar except this time the little whore was making a lot more noise.

I loved that.

"And after the foreplay? The sex of course and we need to be safe." I reached inside my pocket and extracted a condom, I felt the whore calm down for a second as she watched what I was doing. I saw the fear enter her eyes again when she realized the condom wasn't for me but for my knife.

My very sharp, ten inch steel butcher knife.

I hummed while carefully placing the condom on my knife, ignoring the fact that the blade sliced right through the latex. I turned back to the whore, and proceeded to spread her legs, I used my knees to open her thighs wider before settling down between them.

"Now how many thrusts do you think you'll need before you cum?"

I smiled at her before plunging the knife violently inside of her.

The rewarding screams that followed amplified my high exponentially.

Who knew sex could be so much fun?


According to the newspaper the little whore was found on her bed, the knife in one hand and her nipples in the other.

The killer was never found and hopefully he will never be.

Everyone was so shocked that some sicko would do such a thing, the city was scared that it would happen again. Everyone started buying alarms and guns to keep themselves protected.

Fuck I'm not that predictable. I would never recreate a master piece, that's not how it works or how I work for that matter.

I say fuck M.O. All those pussy killers with no respect for the craft, who only want the attention, those are the fuckers who get caught but that's exactly what they want, the fame and all the bullshit that comes with it but like I was saying, leaving your "little mark" behind only serves to get caught. Dumb asses.

Oh look Ms. Denali is gracing me with her presence, lucky me.

Now I wonder if I should use my butcher knife or my scalpel? Either way Ms. Denali is going to end up without a tongue.

Grabbing my backpack from the passenger seat, I run to catch up with her.

"Tanya right?" I call to her from a few steps away. Her startled expression almost makes me want to laugh.

"Yes?" She inspects my face, recognition flashing in her eyes. "You're the guy from the bar."

I nod my head in what I hope is a sheepish way.

She looks apologetic almost immediately. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry about that, I was drunk and all over the place, you know?"

I nod my head again, and offer my hand she takes it eagerly waiting to be forgiven. Too bad I suck at forgiveness.

"It's not a problem, I wanted to apologize myself. It was horrible of me to react that way, my mother," What mother? "always taught me not to disrespect women, and I'm so sorry I yelled at you."

A small smile graces her face.

"Would you like to go grab a cup of coffee? It's the least I can do after spilling that drink on you." The twinkle in her eyes confirms that she would like to do much more than just buy me coffee, and I offer her a smile that tells her the same.

"I'm Edward by the way, Edward Cullen." I offer her my arm, and she giggles taking it, her soft skin tells me what I already deduced from the handshake… I'm going to use the scalpel.


Did you guys enjoy that? Did it make you want to puke?

Like I stated before this a voting fic, each week I will make a poll (the polls will start after the second chapter is up) where I will let you guys decide who dies for the week after that. This is going to be a very interactive fic and admit it guys at some point you wanted to kill Emmett? Or maybe Rose? Well this is your chance to do so.

Feel free to PM killing ideas I'm open to suggestions.

Thank you for reading and please leave me a review with your thoughts!