Free TPG by Unknown Page B

attacked, latching onto the young man’s energy like a lion snapping
down on the jugular, grabbing it like a vise.
    His body basked in
the much needed hit, reveled in the high, the rush, a sensation that continued
to reach new heights each time, as did the cleansing and replenishment that
came with it. Like the first drop of water after days of wandering the desert.
    It was incredible.
    He watched the
young man stiffen, his eyes widen, and knew for that brief moment, for those
precious few seconds, the commingling of their energyhad the nerdy young man experiencing an extraordinary high,
one unlike anything he’d ever experienced in his young life before.
    But it wouldn’t
stay that way.
    He wished it
would.
    It’d make things
so much easier.
    But the young
man’s rush was gone in seconds, his high crumbling as quickly as it had risen.
And when it left, the young man grabbed his temple to stop the pain, just like
all the others had before him. But there was nothing he could do. The pain was
the result of the explosion of blood that had built up in his brain as it
rushed to feed the enormous activity that had his synapses shooting off like
the Fourth of July.
    And then, like the
rest, he collapsed, dead before his skull even struck the sidewalk.
    It was done.
    “Peter!”
    The shout came
from behind, under the scaffolding. It was a young woman. She looked to be
about the same age as the guy he’d just attacked. Pale skin, shoulder length
blond hair with a few pink streaks running through it, skinny legs sticking out
of skimpy shorts. A tight white Yankees T-shirt showed off a flat stomach, with
an almost equally flat chest. She was probably the one the kid was talking
about as he peed.
    “What happened?”
she cried out, staring straight into his eyes, seeing them clearly.
    And then there was
the flash of recognition.
    She knew him.
    He scoped the
block, looking for anyone else. There was no one.
    Just them.
    The girl was still
stuck on him, maybe trying to figure out how she knew him, where she’d seen him
before. Probably too shocked, or maybe too drunk, to piece it together right
then. But as the man glanced at the “NY” symbol on the shirt, he knew she would
figure it out eventually. She wasn’t even focusing on the young man anymore,
probably thinking he’d just passed out because he was drunk.
    He couldn’t let
her go. He couldn’t risk it. The next day was way too important.
    Compartmentalize .
    He didn’t pick up
the slightest vibe from her. She wasn’t a match.
    So he did what he
had to.
    He reached out and
grabbed her, shock registering in her eyes as she recognized what was
happening, realizing her worst fears were coming to life, knowing every
neurotic worried thought her mother and father had voiced telling her to be
careful, worrying when she came home late, every damn fear was happening right
then. She was about to die, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop
it. And she knew it. For those horrifying few seconds, she knew. Her life was
going to be over before it ever really started.
    He hesitated this
time, though. Paused for a brief second. Somehow killing her with his hands had
a different impact on him than doing it with his mind.
    It felt more real.
Harder to justify.
    “Please,” she whimpered.
“Don’t do it. Please.”
    The voice was so
gentle, so soft, so much like a little girl’s.
    But he had no
choice.
    It had to be done.
    He turned her
around and wrapped one arm around her chest and grasped her forehead and
paused, looked down at the pink streaks in her hair, wondered what her parents
thought when she came home with them, if they yelled at her or just let her be
who she was. He hoped it was the latter. He hoped they were accepting,
supportive. He didn’t want them to regret not having been easier on her.
    It would be hard
enough.
    Then, without
further hesitation, he twisted her neck violently, snapping it.
    He let go and
watched her limp body fall to the