Prologue
It is a common assumption amongst my kind that the first kill is always the hardest. The trouble usually begins in silencing your victim. First you must find the chosen one. Attract them somewhere where their screams will not be heard, and prevent them from running away as you do what is asked of you. As you can imagine, for a beginner it is hard to finish the job. On the contrary, my first kill was one of my easiest. Picture this: a darkened alley, a drunken fool. Who could have asked for a better location?
I could taste the breather's fear on the tip of my tongue; its bittersweet tang entwined itself around it before he even came into sight. That's the thing about us Dooms. Our sense of taste is always on guard even if we ourselves are not. Silently, I slinked down the alley, my raven hair brushing my shoulders. I snuck behind him, the taste on my tongue growing stronger. He deserved what he had coming to him.
The man wobbled where he stood - he had had more than his fair share of alcohol. In his left hand he held a half-empty bottle of vodka. How I savoured that glorious smash as he fell to the ground. He spun around when he realised he was being watched.
My emerald eyes pierced his brown ones. A new flavour appeared on my tongue. It was subtle, but there all the same. Lust. Mangled, misshapen and forever present. We Dooms are renowned for our beauty, how could I even expect a mere human to resist it? This victim desired me, but at the same time, feared me. I used this to my advantage.
I edged closer to him, tension running through my cold veins. Take it... I persevered. It was not time yet. Cursing myself for my impatience, I continued my duty. We stood eye to eye. I lent over, he shut his eyes, expecting a kiss. My nostrils flared - his breath stank of cigarettes.
Stretching a long, pale finger out I started to beckon his soul, whispering the incantation I had been taught in my training. The moment was finally here - the silver, wispy soul drifted out of his body and into my palm.
I felt it's warmth in my hand, and a rush of adrenaline to my skull. I felt powerful - alive. The man's corpse hit the floor hard and he lay awkward on the concrete surrounded by dustbins. The taste of fear disappeared. He was most definitely dead. The warm blood that ran through him would soon be cold like mine - only he wouldn't wake up. Without another word, I slunk back out of the alleyway. Too easy. I would kill again. But this time, I would make it more of a challenge.
Kills: 1
Mistakes: 0
