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5

I didn’t call the police that night, since the woman was long gone and, from what I could tell, did not need any assistance. Instead, I left the man there and would allow them to find him naturally, and considering I had killed him in a secluded area, that would more than likely happen later rather than sooner.

In the morning, the news didn’t report on his dead corpse, so I knew he hadn’t been found yet. I attended classes as normal and pretended everything was fine. At lunch, there was no breaking news on him either.

By the evening, however, a missing person’s report on him had been filed, and police were on the lookout for him. Not that it mattered much to me because they wouldn’t find anything, like always. There would be nothing at the scene that could be traced back to me, and all they would find was his mangled corpse and one word that detailed his crime. They’d know who did it right away, but they wouldn’t be able to catch me.

It was almost comical the things I was able to get away with because of how careful I was. And I would continue to be careful so I could continue to put more predatory men into the ground.

I found myself on the hunt again the very next night, this time determined to not let the Hooded Killer escape me. The last two times, I had come so close to ending the killer once and for all, and each time, I had fallen short. Each time, another kill had taken precedent, which resulted in another death I failed to prevent. This time had to be different. This time, I had to put an end to this.

For the occasion, I had brought a chainsaw. It may not have been the most practical weapon choice, but all my favorite slasher horror movies had at some point featured the use of a chainsaw. It was loud and menacing, and I needed all the false bravado I could get if this serial killer was going up against another serial killer.

Two slasher villains going against each other mano a mano, like Freddy vs. Jason . Perhaps I was in my own movie, and I just didn’t know it yet…

I shook the thought from my mind and surveyed my surroundings, searching for the familiar black hood in the shadows of the nearby buildings. The streets I was patrolling were deserted, as always, and I was sporting my usual slasher getup complete with my signature mask and a hood of my own.

Like always, nothing happened the first couple of hours. But then, I spotted him darting into one of the nearby alleyways, and I wasted no time tearing after him like a bat out of hell.

There’s no way you’re escaping me this time, fucker.

I followed him as close as I dared, which was admittedly not as close as I wanted. So much could go wrong, and I would be powerless to stop it. And go wrong it did when he suddenly stepped into a side alley, and when I finally made it to where he disappeared, he was gone.

Shit!

Which way did he go?

My heart beating a million miles a minute, I stepped into the alley, searching for the most likely place he would have gone. True fear coursed through my veins because if I couldn’t find him, it meant I had failed yet again , and someone else was going to die.

Shit, shit, shit!

Fruitlessly, I spun around, searching every inch of my surroundings. I even checked around the nearby dumpsters, and there was still no sign of anything aside from the exit up ahead. But there was no way he would’ve been able to reach that exit that quickly. Was there?

Just when I was about to give the area another sweep, a scream pierced the otherwise-still air, and my blood froze. The woman the scream belonged to was obviously in distress, and yet, this scream sounded different. More feral, as if she were being tortured.

My heart sank as realization dawned on me. There was only one explanation for the woman’s screams being that pained. The Hooded Killer. Without hesitation, I took off towards the sound, my only thought that if I could get to the woman in time, perhaps I could save her. Perhaps if I could just reach her in time, maybe?—

I should’ve known saving her was a futile venture. Because though I tried to reach her as quickly as I could, though I sprinted through alleyway after alleyway, tearing through street after street, it wasn’t enough. Because she had gone silent long before I had arrived, her pained screams having turned to desperate grunts before being cut off completely. And when I finally saw her, the full extent of what had been done to her hit me like a freight train, nearly stealing the air from my lungs, and all I could think was, No! Fuck, I’m too late!

The woman lay in a crumpled heap near the dumpsters completely naked in a pool of blood. Deep slashes marred her stomach like so many women before her, and red stained the area between her legs. Her left breast was completely gone, her right mangled beyond repair, as if an animal had gotten a hold of her and refused to let her go. And perhaps an animal was an accurate description for the serial killer and rapist I was now faced with, the lone figure in a long, black cloak who currently stood over his latest triumph, his back faced towards me.

My grip tightened around the chainsaw, white splitting my knuckles, as I took one careful step after another. My muscles strained with the added pressure, but I barely felt the pain through the shock of it all. This was it, my big moment, and yet, it didn’t feel like it. The air was the same musky scent as before, the killer for a moment looking like every other man I had killed before him. But I knew in my heart he was different, and this kill wouldn’t be like the others.

Before this, I had killed many boys, but none of them compared to him . Because in the end, they were all immature boys who had all been taught that a woman’s word meant nothing and they were owed everything. But this was different. This was someone who was a killer, like me, except I only went after those who deserved it. He dared to hurt the women he deemed were worth nothing.

I knew what I had to do. I had only used a chainsaw a few times, but I knew enough about it to know if I was quick enough, a timed attack through the back of the assailant would be all I needed to put an end to his tirade. There would be no need to prolong it, not when dealing with someone as dangerous as him.

You can do this. Just put one foot in front of the other, and ? —

My right foot twisted, and a sudden slice of pain shot through my ankle. “Fuck!” I hissed under my breath as I fell, bracing my free hand on the concrete so I wouldn’t hit my head while still managing to keep hold of the chainsaw. I breathed a sigh of relief that I hadn’t dropped or broken it, but the pain in my ankle continued to throb, and as I glanced at where the hooded figure once was, I realized I had bigger problems.

Because no longer was the killer’s back to me.

Instead, he was facing me. And for the first time, I got a good look at him, and my heart nearly stopped. Because instead of a stranger, I was staring into the familiar cobalt blue eyes of my cousin.

Barron .

He was the serial killer and rapist who was terrorizing my city, whom I vowed to put an end to. My heart leapt into my throat, and I scrambled to my feet as the man I thought I’d known my entire life stalked towards me with nothing but pure malice in his expression. And as he approached, something glinted in his grasp, causing my gaze to travel down. My eyes widened. A machete.

My cousin was carrying a machete.

I shifted my stance and held the chainsaw in front of me. I knew, theoretically, a chainsaw was more powerful than a machete, but where a machete lacked in power, it made up for in speed. All I had to do was somehow avoid my cousin’s attacks, and I might yet come out of this unscathed and victorious.

As Barron came closer, a smile distorted his normally pleasant features, and he chuckled. “What do we have here?” he taunted. “The famous Incel Annihilator I’ve heard so much about? I have wondered about you, you know. About who you are underneath that mask.”

I froze. Just yesterday, I was comforting a genuinely scared Barron about my existence. Now, however, he’d done a complete one-eighty, and my brain found it hard to recognize this Barron as my cousin. But then, as quickly as the shock came, it wore off, and rage like I’d never known before flooded my veins. It was as if I were possessed, and before I could overthink it, I ripped off my hood and mask, watching as my own cousin’s face dropped once he recognized me too.

For the first time, he showed genuine fear as he stepped back. “Selina?”

I chuckled darkly. “Surprised? That’s right, Barron. I’m the famed Incel Annihilator. And you’ve just committed the ultimate sin. Actually multiple, if my sources are correct.”

Barron narrowed his eyes. “What? Her ? She was a prostitute , Selina! She?—”

I turned on my chainsaw, interrupting whatever else he was about to say.

Barron huffed, exasperated. “Come on , Selina!” he yelled. “We’re family! You wouldn’t hurt family, would?—”

“Oh, just shut up!” I screamed as I swung the chainsaw at his torso. Barron jumped back at the last minute, and it narrowly missed him by mere inches. But I didn’t care. I was done, far from done. “I’m so sick of you men going around and treating women as if they’re worth nothing more than shit! I’m sick of you men thinking we’re only good for our bodies and what we can do for you, and I’m tired of the sneering and the catcalls and all of it! And Barron, you were the last person I thought would be like that, but it turns out you’re just like all the rest of them, and I’m fucking done!”

Barron’s expression fell until something akin to resignation appeared in his eyes. “If that’s how you truly feel…” He trailed off, drawing out his machete and giving it a twirl. “Then bring it, but I won’t go down without a fight.”

Neither will I, I replied in my head, readying my chainsaw for another swing. Barron charged at me, swiping his machete at my side. I leaped to the side, but not before the blade snagged on my hoodie, tearing open the fabric in the process. I blinked, dumbfounded, before quickly regaining my composure. I didn’t have the luxury of being caught off-guard, not when my own cousin was actively trying to kill me.

Barron pressed his advance, but this time I was ready for him. Before he had a chance to swing again, I swiped, aiming for his machete, knowing if I could just land that target, I could destroy it, and he would be weaponless. I missed—but ended up hitting something else instead.

Something a lot more interesting.

His three longest fingers, which had been securely wrapped around the machete, now dangled lifelessly off his hand, barely hanging on by a few single strands of nerve. A piercing shriek ripped up his throat as blood streamed down his hand. The machete was now on the ground at his feet, soaking in a pool of red. But what caught my attention more were his eyes. They were furious, two burning pools of hatred, and as he bent low to collect his machete with his remaining good hand, I watched as the cousin I thought I knew disappeared completely.

What stood in front of me was nothing more than a monster, an empty shell wearing my cousin’s skin, and I knew he no longer saw me as the cousin he had grown up with, either. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” He chuckled darkly. “You’re just like them, aren’t you, Selina? Just another whore to stain my blade.”

My heart sank at his words, but I didn’t respond. The time for exchanging words was over. Tonight, only one of us would walk away.

Revving up my chainsaw, I squared my shoulders. I had the advantage. But would that be enough?

Time to find out.

Barron swiped at me again, and it stung as the machete scraped the side of my shoulder, cutting through flesh as if it were butter. I danced out of the way before he could do any more damage, lashing out with an attack of my own. The Hooded Killer pivoted, the chainsaw missing him by only inches, before cracking the machete across my cheek. My world spun, and I stumbled backwards, my cheek stinging as something wet and sticky began to coat the surface. Blood, I realized, but I didn’t have time to assess just how severe the wound was. Because within an instant, my cousin was on me again, this time sinking the tip of the machete into my right side.

I cried out as the blade pierced my flesh. Barron loomed over me with a sick smile as he slowly slid the machete out of my side, as if he wanted me to feel every inch of his blade. As if he knew the power he currently held over me and wanted me to know he was in charge.

But I realized what was happening. None of the wounds my cousin gave me were lethal or crippling, as if he were toying with me. As if he relished in this game we played and wanted me to suffer as much as possible before finally ending me. Sick bastard! Barron was so sure of himself, so sure he would come out on top, that he wanted me to continue to be able to fight him for as long as possible.

Unfortunately for him, he severely underestimated my abilities. He prepared for another swing, but before he could, I used all the strength I could muster and brought the chainsaw across my body, blocking his attack. The machete clashed with my whirling chain before folding in on itself, the kickback from the collision nearly causing me to lose my balance. I watched in awe as my cousin’s weapon broke into two useless pieces of metal, my muscles trembling as I struggled to hold onto my own weapon.

I smirked. “Well, this just got interesting. Pretty boy lost his weapon!”

Barron glared at me before something akin to fear flashed beneath his facade. Because now, I was the one with the upper hand, and he knew it. Oh, how the tables have turned. He then tried to leap off me as if I’d just scorched him, but I was quicker than him.

Much quicker.

The chainsaw pierced his gut before he had a chance to untangle himself from my legs, blood and intestines spilling into my lap as I cut upward into his chest. Barron’s mouth formed a silent scream, his wide eyes going glassy in minutes as the life drained from them. And still, I kept cutting, if only to make sure he was truly dead.

So he wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

And as a means of avenging every single woman he had harmed. Mothers, wives, daughters—the list went on, each face blurring into a cacophony of pain and melancholy that had haunted me for months ever since I first heard about him on the news. He had been the reason I took up this job to begin with, and now that it was finally over, I allowed myself to finally grieve for those I could not save. One cut for one life lost, dozens upon dozens mottling his paling flesh as the memories of them surrounded me. I had never believed in the paranormal, but I pictured them all there with me anyway, watching as I put their killer into the ground. Thanking me before finally departing to rest in peace.

I cut until there was no doubt in my mind that he was dead, and then for good measure, I lobbed his head off, watching it roll down the street and stop near the dumpsters, where the woman I failed to save lay. And then, I finally pushed Barron’s body off me and rose to my feet, a battered and bloody mess.

It was over.

Finally, it was over . I had won, and he would harm no one else. The streets were now safer because of me, but now, I was well and truly alone.

Because I had also killed my cousin, the only family member I had left. And I knew that there was no coming back from that sort of trauma, no matter the good that had also come from this.

For the first time in my life, I felt empty, and I didn’t see that void getting filled anytime soon. So much for celebrating.