Paint by Kelly Ganson

CUTHBERT STILES stood upright, taking in the smell of iron. As he breathed in that metallic scent, he sighed with satisfaction. A slow smile spread across his face as he admired the room, painted in that beautiful shade of red. A color so loved. Another happy sigh sounded as he passed to the bathroom, completely oblivious to stickiness under foot.

He stopped in the doorway, looking back at his handywork. Still smiling, he liked how decorating always made him so very happy. So very happy indeed.

CUT, as he liked to call himself, was bored.

He needed to do some decorating. Decorating always cured his boredom. After all, one could never do enough decorating. And, of course, the old, three room farm house could never have enough paint on its walls!

He didn't mind the smell of the paint, either. In fact, to him, the smell was the best part of the decoration. Since his farm house was out in the middle of New Mexico ranch country, no one could enjoy the smell but him. Because, after all, that scent was not for everyone.

So it was time to look for decorating materials.

First, however, he needed to be rid of the unsightly objects lying about in the main room of the house, and he got to his house cleaning. He carefully put the pieces in a large barrel just outside his back door—they made a slippery thud as he dumped them in the barrel—and closed it tightly. He then moved the drum off the porch to the yard.

After this, he drove to town in search of more decorating materials. He spent hours researching his materials, looking for ideas, taking pictures... deciding.

He then bought dinner and went home.

The pictures were transferred from phone to computer, then printed out. After pinning them to his bulletin board, Cut smiled at his new-found source of decorating materials.

IF HE had been into that sort of thing, she was rather pretty. Dark brown hair with blonde highlights, it fell down her back in beautiful waves. The sun glinting off the highlights made them look golden. Her small frame glided smoothly as she smiled a lovely smile to a passer-by. Coming out into the parking lot, she was oblivious to Cut as he sat in his SUV watching her, waiting for her to drive out of the parking lot. When she did, he put his own vehicle into drive and followed her.

The problem was she went places that offered no opportunities to snatch her. It was getting very annoying, and this was making Cut angry. This running around to this place or that was not on his agenda. He had decorating to do. All this silly gallivanting was wearing thin.

So, he let her know he was following her. One way, or another, she was going to help his decorating project.

When she realized the gray SUV was following her, he could see her start to panic. This actually made him enjoy the chase, as he took his free hand and reached for the gag in the passenger's seat.

By this time, she had cornered herself into a cul-de-sac. She jumped a curb trying to turn the car around, nearly hitting someone's mailbox. But, Cut's SUV blocked her way out. Frantic now, he could see her roll the windows up, grabbing for her phone. He casually emerged from his car, chloroformed gag in hand, and approached hers. For long moments, he stared at the screaming woman as she tried desperately to tell the 911 operator what was happening. He could feel his body respond to her terror... ah, but there would be enough time for that later.

His fists went through the window, shattering the glass all over her beautiful brown hair. He could hear the dispatch saying something to the girl, but her wild cries drowned it out. His face was set into a frown as he glared at her.

"What do you want?!" she screamed.

He didn't answer. He just reached in and placed the gag over her mouth. Within moments, she stopped screaming, and was unconscious.

CUT watched her body hit the floor with a loud thump. He stood there, staring down at her naked form. Then, he turned, went to the kitchen and got himself a beer and a peanut butter sandwich. After he finished his snack, he returned to his prize. This one had cost him some work, but it was worth it.

She was awake now, and when she saw him, her panic began anew. He just smiled at her as he went to the bedroom and removed his clothing. When he returned to her, delight flooded through him at the look on her face.

She was scared.

She knew what was coming.

She suddenly sat up and tried to scoot away from him, her muffled, strangled cries trying to break free from the tape he had placed over her mouth earlier. This aroused him. He could feel his darkness respond. Managing to move in the direction he wanted, he grinned evilly at her as she suddenly realized that the furnishings in the large room was arranged along the walls, leaving the main floor open. She desperately tried to get near a table.

Cut stood there, watching, smiling at her. This was going to be fun!

The woman's tears had managed to seep under the tape over her mouth, causing a corner of it to droop until it fell off her face completely. It didn't matter. No one would hear her anyway, and this just made the whole diversion that much more pleasurable.

He stepped toward her, that sinister grin still on his face. He reached for her throat, as he pulled her face toward his. Her mouth dropped open as she gasped for breath and he sloppily kisses her, nearly gagging her. He then tried to shove his tongue into her mouth but she had managed to purse her lips. When he pulled away from her, she sat there gagging and sobbing.

She tried to kick him she suddenly realized he was unbinding her legs, trying to spread them apart. In a swift movement, her knee connected with his groin, a sharp, blistering jab that made his pelvis vibrate. The pain was intense enough that his first response was to slap her. After she fell to her side from the slap, he grabbed a fist full of hair and tried to kiss her again. This time, however, she was prepared.

Her teeth sank into his tongue as he tried to skip it into her mouth.

She bit him.

Bit him hard.

Cut let out a scream as sensitive flesh felt the sharp bite of her teeth. Pain coursed through him and he began to pull out of her mouth.

At least, he tried to. Her teeth refused to let go of his tongue, and they were sinking deep into the flesh.

"Let go! Let go!" he cried hysterically, garbled and juicy.

She did, and spit out a wad of blood and flesh from her mouth. She glared at him.

Cut had blood oozing from his mouth as he turned angry eyes at her. He was more than pissed. If she had just cooperated...

"Bitch!" he managed to scream, a hard slap cracking across her face. "That hurt!" Through heavy puffs of breath and tears, he looked at her. Really looked at her.

That was when he realized something.

This was going to be his last kill.

The end of his fun.

The end of Cuthbert Stiles.

The expression on her face told him this. He had met his undoing in this one woman.

A foretelling was on her face. One that was strengthened with words.

"Go ahead and kill me, you fucking bastard!" she said in a low, dangerous tone. "But I'll come back, one way or another, and make you answer for my death and whomever else you may have killed!"

He just stood there, staring at her for long moments and feeling the weight of her words settle over him. A strange emotion crept over him, moved into his psyche: fear. He had not felt fear in years. Not since he killed his own mother for planting that seed of fear into his soul. But he had thought he had long buried it.

Now, here it was, rearing it's ugly head and laughing at him.

He felt the blood dripping down his chin. He stared at her for a moment longer, then he sliced her throat.

SOMETHING was wrong.

Three days had passed since he killed her, cut her up, used her blood for decorating.

Since she bit him.

Now, he found himself lacking in his desire for decorating.

In fact, Cut was now strangely subdued since he sliced open her neck. Even the dismembering of her body didn't hold the same euphoria as the previous kills. He used the materials for decorating, but he felt an odd sense of apathy toward what he usually found satisfying.

Also, he was beginning to dread things.

First, he had thought about finding a new materials. That alone usually raised his spirits. But, while he wanted to, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He was afraid that a new kill would go as badly as the last one.

Besides, his neck hadn't healed yet.

Yeah. Good excuse.

Then, there was the worry about the night. For the last three nights, he'd had the unpleasant notion that someone was watching him. He'd wake up with that feeling in the dead of night, only to find himself completely alone.

Somehow, he knew he wasn't.

Cut had thought he had seen a pair of eyes looking down at him last night. But, he couldn't be sure because once he sat up in bed, there was nothing there. Now, as he sat in his kitchen, a plate of uneaten food before him, he listened. Listened to something moving about in the main room of the house. A soft, slow sound that seemed to get louder the more it progressed. He could see those eyes, too.

He swallowed hard as he stood and tossed the paper plate of food into the trash, a wave of apprehension washed over him. He now had a full view of the main room, and he saw that his fears were not without merit.

It moved around the room in wooden, jerky movements. Behind it, another thing was dragging itself across the floor toward him, a death grin on its face.

Cut suddenly gasped in horror. The thing crawling on the floor had been one of his kills. Its face was slack from decay, flesh hanging in tatters on the cheek bones, tongue lolling out of the slack jaw, gurgling as it crept closer and closer. Involuntarily, he stepped back, disgust bubbling up in his chest and mouth. He remembered that kill very well: He'd sawed her in half, used the blood to paint the floor. She had begged for her life all the while he sawed at her middle. Shock rendered him immobile as it came nearer.

That was when he'd noticed the other sounds.

The scraping, the moaning, the shuffling...

From above him, behind him, beside him.

Everywhere.

Sweat now broke out onto Cut's brow. He knew—knew—what was coming.

She said it would...

Then, the pain stabbed at him. He grabbed at his crotch and cried out. Wild eyes looked up at the creature standing before him, mere feet away. A horrible grin was on her face, a gaping wound in her throat. In one fast, jerky movement she was right in front of him, those black, dead eyes boring into his.

The last thing Cut saw were those eyes, the ones that had glowed with such hate when she told him she'd make him pay.