Around the Way Girl

Always the same behavior, just dressed a little bit nicer.  She used the same routine last week.  Amazing how gullible men could be.
      On the ride home, she would act like it so hot to her.  She needed some air and would ask oh so politely could they go to the beach.  It was so emotionally draining, telling all her sordid secrets to all those people and some fresh air would feel good.  Naturally, he was down with that.  It was in the fall and not too many people would be there.
      At the beach, she would talk about the series of disappointments that had been her short life.  The mother who showered her with love and affection, until she reached an age where her mother saw her as a predator looking for the same prey, men.  The father who was gone so long she could not remember his face.  Her mother's boyfriend who took away her innocence and left her with a loathing for self and knowledge too much for her to understand.
       She would also talk about the men who made her feel like a queen at night, but would not speak to her in the daytime.  The girls with the fake cheerleader smiles and serpent like personalities.  The school system who had no time for disturbed little girls who need nurturing, not more emphasize on state wide test scores.  Then the tears would pour, real tears of pain, over the half-life she had been leading on this planet.
      Always the arm going around her shoulder, the accidental on purpose brushing of her breast, the awkward first kiss.  She would let the kiss deepen to get things going.  Slowly they would fall into the sand, and by careful maneuvering; she would end up on top.  She would make him feel so good, so great for that moment.  Then, with a quick, savage movement, she would slash his throat deeply.  There wouldn't be time for a struggle, his basic instinct for survival being thwarted by his sexual need.  He never saw the tiny switchblade that she hid in her hair, the hair she had loosened from the bun she wore earlier.  He never saw the look of calculation in eyes because he was busy looking at other things.  Afterwards, she would watch him for a few minutes, making sure he was dead.  Then she would drag his body towards her car, the car, she had hid near the area she would make her kill.  She deliberately went to this part of the beach because it was very secluded.  She would take the towels and blanket out of the car, the car her victim never knew she had, and with care, cleansed the blood from his body.  Unruffled by the night, she rolled his body into the blanket.  With a strength most people had grossly underestimated, she put the body in the trunk of her car, closed it, rinsed her hands off, and got in her car and drove away.  She went to the outskirts of town, and dumped his body there, into a shallow grave she dug earlier.  The other time, she used the city dump.
         Last week was the first time she had killed someone.  She did it the first time just to see if she could actually kill someone in cold blood.  Everyone thought she was such a dumb, pathetic, excuse for a human, with the intelligence of a slug.  To kill, one had to be cold-blooded, methodological, concise, and cunning.  No one knew about the deep-rooted resentment and hatred lurking in her.  No one cared.
       Of course, her heart was cold.  Her mother pretended to love her until her natural jealousy of other women turned her against her own flesh and blood.  She knew dude was screwing her daughter.  She just didn't give a sh!t; she was too busy getting drunk and fucked.  She felt the girl brought it on herself, walking around with her butt bouncing everywhere
 The girls in the neighborhood felt the same way.  The girl was the first to develop, with a cute face and how they hated her for that.  The boys were always skinning and grinning in her face, although they talked about her like a dog to them.  What was so special about her anyway? Bitch.
         Men!  From the moment she developed, they wouldn't leave her alone.  The old bastard who had warped her sexuality before she even had the chance to warp it herself.  The boys in the 'hood who pretended they liked her but only wanted some ass, and wouldn't even acknowledge her if it was daytime.
        Especially, these last two self-righteous, horny shits she found in the church.  Going around pretending as if they really cared about her.  Ha!  What a joke. They deserved to die.  Going to church with their wives and families, pretending they were so holier than thou and then using the church as a trick service.  It made the decision to kill so much easier. 
       The ability to kill had given her a thrill and a thirst.  Next time, she would have to change her routine.  People might catch on.  No, of course not. Everyone thought she was so stupid.  She had killed twice and hadn't been caught.  They had better watch out.  She was out there.