Silhouette
He had followed the woman after she had turned him down. Saying no right away was customary. A girl liked to know a guy was serious about her. He understood that. Persistence was the key. If he was pushed away, he pushed back, just enough to remind her that he was a man and she was a woman. This one hadn't appreciated it. She had had some kind of bitch attack and told him to leave her alone. Loudly. In front of everybody.
It smoldered, but he decided he would do the gentlemanly thing and let her have her moment. He backed down and watched what she drank and when she got a call and left, he followed. If he could catch her alone, with nobody for her to show off for or impress, it would be different. Before he could get to her though, another girl met her at the corner. They kissed in greeting and walked off holding hands, fingers tightly laced.
So that's how it was. Well, he could fix that. He could fix both of them. So he put up his hood and stayed a block behind them. They didn't hail a cab, so they must live nearby. Sure enough, they hopped up the stairs at an apartment building. They kissed again at the door. He saw fingers tighten on the curve of an ass and heard the breathless chuckle as they went inside. It just about made him sick at how unfair it was.
He waited for someone else to come so he could follow them in, but then he saw a light come on in a second floor window. That was probably them. There was a fire escape and a gas valve. He could get there. And he did. He had been locked out enough times for coming home past curfew to know how to get a window lock open and soon he was standing in their living room.
He could hear the shower running and the faint sounds of conversation. They were in there together and he imagined it for a moment. He was going to enjoy this. So were they. He gave himself a rub through his pants and started down the dark hall.
A woman was there and he stopped. She was facing away from him, but he could tell that she was mostly naked except for some gloves and a riding crop. Holy God, this kept getting better. Three of them. He went from half-hard to a full throb.
She looked over her shoulder at him and she was gorgeous. Her haircut was severe and her expression was cold, but he bet he could change it. She turned all the way and the lust curdled into something nauseous. Her belly had been slashed open and stab wounds gaped over her breasts and ribcage. Blood and entrails dripped from each of them.
She glared at him, eyes black and baleful. He was freezing now, arousal shriveled away from horror and the unnatural cold. He couldn't breathe. It felt like his breath was being sucked out of him into all those bloody holes. She pointed at him and hissed a single syllable.
"You…"
"No!" he was stumbling away from her. "Not me! No!" Her mask-like face split into a rictus of heart-eating rage. "No!" he screamed again and he turned and ran. He crashed into a lamp and tripped over a coffee table. He lunged for the window and fell. It was just the second floor, but he went headfirst and his neck crumbled inwards toward his ribs. He was dead before the bathroom door opened to see what the noise was.