Born Again.

"Dude, are you okay?"

Jimmy looked up from his hot chocolate.

"What?"

"I asked if you were okay?"

"Oh, right. Yeah I'm fine"

"Cool" Replied Bill. He didn't sound like he meant it. He sounded worried.

Jimmy drank his hot drink, and stood up. "I'd better go home" He said, in monotone.

"Sure" said Bill. "But, wouldn't you like a lift home? I can give you a lift"

"Nah. I like walking" He said, in monotone.

"Dude, It's raining." Bill sounded confused. But, everyone likes to walk home sometimes, right?

"I know" He said,  in monotone.

"She'll come back dude. You know how Sam is. She loves you." Said Bill. He wanted to believe what he was saying. Desperately.

"I know. I'll be fine." Jimmy said, in monotone.

"I'll call you tomorrow" So desperate.

"I'll be fine. Just fine." He said, in monotone.

"Dude. Just, don't, dude." Now Bill just sounded dumb. Dumb and desperate.

"See you man" Jimmy said, in monotone.

Jimmy left the all night cafe. It wasn't a long walk home, through this dark, crime ridden city. But it was long enough.

Water poured down in a flood. The mould that grew in corners, forgotten newspapers, litter, homeless people. They all blurred into one after a while. Death lurked in dark alleys. It was always so cold here. But his boots, his expensive jacket, a few hot chocolates, and most of all, the promise of the hunt, kept Jimmy nice and warm.

He looked over the main street. It was a right, then a left, then straight ahead. That was the way back to his apartment block. Jimmy turned left. Into a place he didn't know.

Walking. Walking. One boy. Alone. In a dark, dark alley. They'll be one soon. A bite on the hook. Please God let there be one soon.

Take the bait. C'mon. I know you're there.

"Hey, you."

Ahhhh... Those two words were music to his soul.

"Give us yer money, cunt!" Three figures, genders indistinguishable in the night. The formost, the owner of the voice, the leader probably, had a switchblade that glinted briefly, despite the all encompassing blackness. The other two were seemingly unarmed.

"Sorry, what?" said Jimmy.

"I said give us yer money!" Anger drowned out the rain.

"What if... I don't?" Responded Jimmy, slowly.

"Then I cut you up, bitch!" The would be mugger swished his knife, to show he ment what he spoke. The two behind him said nothing.

"Really? Is that just so" Said Jimmy. The flatness had left his voice. Something else was there now.

"Give us yer fuckin money, cunt!" The mugger seemed serious. That was a change. Well, friends did give you courage.

"No."

The word hung in the damp silence like a the beat of a huge brass gong.

"Fine" said the mugger, who spoke.

His last action was to leap forward, a slow, sloppy lunge. Ducking beneath the strike, Jimmy barely registered the man's short scream for mercy before his sharp white teeth closed on the throat, both hands holding painfully tight the hand that held the knife. Jimmy heard and felt fragile bones break under his fingers. It was beautiful.

With a sharp and easy twist of his neck, Jimmy ripped out the oesophagus of his mugger. And as he lay, bleeding on the night's pitiless street, the predator looked up at the mugger's would be friends.

"Run away" requested Jimmy. But there was no real hope, in his joyful voice, that either of them would obey his command. But obey they did. They didn't need to hear the sad, bloody gurgling of their leader to know they were in very deep shit. They ran. Fast.

Jimmy picked up his attacker. He was heavy. Much older than Jimmy was, at least twenty, and so, taller and broader.

"I don't like you"

The corpse gave no reply.

"Not even a little"

He dropped it then. A lifeless toy. No fun anymore. It had been all too quick.

Jimmy sighed. Maybe Bill was right. Maybe she would come back. Jimmy sighed again, wiped the gore from his mouth, and spat. Jimmy and Sam. That's what his tattoo said. How could she forget that?

Jimmy went back the way he came, onto the main street.

He turned right. Then left. Then straight ahead. Home sweet home.

He buzzed the door. No one opened, so he kicked it down. It wasn't even hard. That worried him a little. What if there was a break in? What if his mum was home? What if Jimmy wasn't there? He must tell the landlord.

He walked upstairs, till he got to his apartment door.

"James, is that you?" Such fear. What if something had happened to her baby boy?

"Yes mum." He confirmed immediately.

"You're home very late"

"Sorry mum"

"Would you like to hear the daily light?" Hopeful now.

Jimmy felt guilty as he had to reply, "Not tonight mum."

"Alright. I heard about Sam. I love you. I'll leave your breakfast on the table. Goodnight."

"Goodnight mum. Thanks mum"

His room was cold. He'd left his window open again, goddamn it. He bit his lip. I meant gosh darn it. 

Off with these clothes. Covered with blood. He'd have to get a new jacket.

He sighed.

He'd think about it in the morning. After breakfast. School tomorrow. Bill would be there. Bill would know what to do. Bill was older. And smarter. He could drive, even.

Jimmy, the serial killer, seventeen years old, born-again Christian, known in the papers as "The Animal" tucked himself into bed.

Everything would be better in the morning.