Chapter Twenty Six

"The social stabber has stuck again. But look out my Los Angeles natives, he's no longer a small town killer. The body of twenty two year old Hayley White was found just outside of Sunset park this morning at 8:14. Friends worried her disappearance was a joke because of the tweet that was sent from her twitter account just moments after her death. @HeyHayleyW: See you all in hell :) Police have no idea-"

I lifted the remote and turned the television down. I didn't want to turn it off because I was waiting for them to show a picture of the poor girl.

My eyes darted to my side where Ryan was sitting. He was watching the screen with slight fascination. A small smirk playing around the curving corners of his mouth. He wasn't cuddled under me as he would usually be. We were still on bad terms from his rough housing me and kicking my baby. Boy didn't seem too mad about it anymore. He was still licking and following Ryan around. But I didn't trust him anymore.

"Why aren't you turning?" Ryan turned to look at me.

I looked away from him. "Why would I turn?"

"Why would you want to watch this?"

"What's wrong? You can kill innocent girls but you can't stomach watching people feel sorry for them?"

"Whatever, Brendon." He looked at the TV again. I wasn't letting it go that easily.

"Why would you be stupid enough to keep killing?" I said as calmly as my voice would allow.

"I just felt like it." He shrugged.

My stomach turned violently. I just felt like it. I was in a relationship with somebody who could take an innocent life just because he felt like it. That menacing half smirk was placed on his lips again as he looked at the muted screen.

A picture of a pretty, red head girl popped up behind the news reporter. So there it was, the face of the young woman my boyfriend just murdered. Looking at her, even in the normal picture, made me feel sick. It was my fault she was dead just as much as it was Ryan's. I didn't turn him in. I allowed him to keep killing. I even took him to a larger killing ground. I was fucking sick.

A sketch of the Social Stabber appeared on the screen beside the girl. My heart grew three times heavier because, yeah, it did look like Ryan. Not enough that he'd be stopped in the street and questioned about his involvement. But just enough to make the people who saw him on a daily basis question it. And that was dangerous as hell for us.

"Why'd you have to tweet?" I whispered.

"What?" He looked at me again. the annoyance clear on his face.

We'd been annoyed with each other a lot lately. Annoyed and angry. And distant. That wasn't how it was supposed to be when you loved someone. Especially not after sex. It was supposed to make us closer and inseparable. But right now, I wouldn't mind be separated from him for a while. Or punching him in his flawlessly careless face.

"They wouldn't be able to connect the killings to the Social Stabber if you hadn't of did something on her phone. It would have been just another murder. But you kept the same MO, and now they're looking for you specifically."

He laughed dryly. "Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?"

"Your job?" I scoffed.

"My hobby." He corrected. Just because he knew how that would nauseate me.

"Why do you have to kill people?" I stood up. Making sure to lift my baby up with me so Ryan didn't get any ideas.

"I have to-"

"No." I interrupted the lie. "You don't have to. You can stop now and we can move again and be safe forever."

He bent his knee to lift his foot on the couch. His arm rested on his knee. He twisted his hand to inspect his fingernails casually. Completely ignoring the panic I was feeling.

"Do you ever just see somebody and want to kill them?" The question was clearly rhetorical so I remained as quiet as possible. "Like the girl with the glasses who works in a fast food restaurant. Constantly messing up people's orders because she's always secretly on the phone." His voice took on a story telling tone. It mesmerized my ears as he continued. "Or maybe the stuck up, blonde girl who's rude to everybody just because she can be. Or the obnoxious cosplayers who annoyingly can't just wait for Halloween to dress like an idiot."

"Ryan, none of those are reasons to kill someone."

His eyes connected with mine. His pupils dilating as he looked at me. "If those aren't reasons to kill, I don't know what else is."

I placed my puppy down. Nudging him towards the kitchen so he wasn't in kicking distance of Ryan. He lazily walked into the other room. Leaving Ryan and I alone.

"You can get help, Ryan. I'll help you."

I approached him cautiously. Standing over him and rubbing his hair soothingly. He grabbed my waist, pulling me down on his lap. His arms wrapped around me tightly. His head resting on me.

"I don't want help." He admitted.

"Why wouldn't you want help?"

"I like the way I am."

My hands dropped away from him. I couldn't get up because be was holding on too tight. But trust me, I wanted to.

"Why are you like this?" I asked sadly.

I didn't expect an answer. I wasn't even sure I was talking to him. The words just left my mouth because my brain couldn't hold it in anymore. But then be did answer. And the response he gave made my heart ache.

"When I was seven years old I watched my father murder my mother."