Play dead. Be dead.

A car passes by. Flashy and fast, with a booming stereo. I can smell the liquor stink of the driver from the roadside. Keeping my head down, I think to myself: Nope. Not what I'm in the mood for. I need someone innocent. Maybe someone with a family. I giggle. Why not? A older SUV is approaching. A total dad van, going the speed limit. This holds a possibility. I stick my thumb out. The car passes me but hesitates. I grin inwardly as the brake lights flash. The SUV has one of those stupid family stickers on the back. Daddy, mommy, big brother and little sister. Even a freaking goldfish. I amble to the drivers window with my most wide eyed innocence face. The driver's a scholarly type. Glasses, brown hair with a hint of grey. Maybe late 40's. Handsome even.
"Can I help you young lady?" his voice is filled with sincere worry. Perfect.
"I'm sorry to stop you, sir." I furrow my brow and let moisture fill my eyes. "I got in a fight with my boyfriend and he kicked me out of the car. I left my purse, my cell phone...everything in there. I just want to get home."
His concern is practically tangible. "Of course, miss. A young lady shouldn't be walking out on her own this time of night. I'll give you a ride. This town can be dangerous."
Oh, you have no idea. I climb into the passenger seat and make a show of buckling my seat belt. The driver's listening to some podunk country station. If I wasn't sure about killing you before I certainly am now! 
“My name is Darren, I teach at the local college.” 
I stick my hand out to shake his. “I'm Madelyn.” He asks where I'm headed and I rattle off an address of the top of my head. The drive there is uneventful until he pulls in front of the obviously abandoned house I've led him to.
“This is where you live?” he asks, confused.
“No, but I'm pretty sure this is where you'll die.” I give him a minute to absorb my words before cold cocking him. I snort laughter at my own corniness before going about my business.

Professor Darren is finally coming to. He mumbles something groggily. “Hey Darren. How ya feeling? Is the rope too tight?” I emphasis the situation by giving the rope around his ankle an extra  yank. He's spread out beautifully on a scuffed up pool table. Like a flesh covered present that I'm almost vibrating with anticipation to unwrap. 
“What is this? What's going on? Wh...mpphhpt!” I shove the pre positioned ball gag into his mouth. Sometimes I'm just not in the mood for the what, why and how. I'm more in the mood for the muffled screams, tears and looks of terror that go hand in hand with my playtimes. He's struggling but I've tied my knots well. I've had lots of practice after all. His struggling ceases when he sees the Ka-bar. I rub my thumb along the familiar handle and smile pleasantly as I bring the blade tip to his stomach. Now Professor Darren attempts to thrash as I begin to part layers of his flesh. Oh. Oh there it is. Richer than the most robust wine. I continue cutting. Using a well taught technique to slowly flay the skin from the muscle. His struggles barely hinder my handiwork. Within minutes I've flayed the majority of skin from his torso. I hum disjointedly to myself as I run my fingers along the open musculature of his chest. Mmm. I'm getting so hungry. I tease the blade down one hipbone, drawing a thin line of blood. The good professor's penis lies distractingly limp at the apex of his spread thighs. I scrunch my face up and bring the blade between his legs. His eyes bulge and his previously muffled cries ascend to a bat sonar shriek as I slash through the cord at the base of his manhood and remove it with a careless yank. I make sure he gets an eyeful before tossing the useless hunk of meat aside. I continue the flaying along his pelvis and upper thighs until he gives a hearty jerk and the knife slips along his femoral artery. Whoops. The spray of blood is like a fountain, hitting me full force in the face and coating me with dripping red. I drop my knife onto the table and run my hand over my face, staring at the film of blood before licking a stripe clean along my palm. Snap. Frenzied lust. I vault on top of the mess that is Professor Darren and jam my hands into his pectoral muscles, relishing the crack of ribs before I bury my face in his chest cavity lapping and biting at the frantically beating heart. It's too soon that the heart stops beating and the flow of blood ceases. I lift my head from his carcass, covered with Darren's blood. Sigh. I'm sated, perhaps even gorged. I pout momentarily, wishing I had prolonged the play. Pushing a hank of blood soaked hair out of my face I grab Darren's wallet, checking his license for an address to leave a present for his family to find in the morning. Good. Only a few miles down the street. I grab my blade from the table and toss it into my open bag. Hmph. Didn't even get to use my belt sander. I take the bag to the SUV and use Darren's keys to open the hatchback. Going back into the house, I untie his body and heft it over my shoulder. A minute later, with Darren's mutilated corpse in the back I settle into the drivers seat and pull out of the driveway. Briefly catching a glimpse of my clothes I realize I probably should of cleaned myself up a bit before taking off. I laugh aloud. Flipping the radio to a more suitable station I catch Mick Jagger singing of painting it black and turning his head until his darkness goes. If only it was that easy...

I can the sense the cop behind me is going to pull me over before he even flicks the lights on. This should be interesting. Stolen SUV, dead body in the back. Oh, and the fact that I'm covered in blood head to toe. I pull over to the curb as my face can't help but split open into a vicious grin. The cop comes to the window "License and regis..." his words drop off as he sees my face. Within a split second he backs up a step and I fling the door open and leap at him, slamming him against the cruiser. His hand reaches for his gun before I grab it and break his fingers. I smell the sharp scent of urine as he pisses himself in fear. The cop hitches in a breath to scream and I lunge forward and rip his esophagus out with my teeth. His body is thrashing against mine as I take a few swallows. Ugh. I'm too full for this. I drop his twitching body on the ground and look at him for a few moments with my head cocked to the side in contemplation. Ok. He's a gone goose. I open the drivers door to the cruiser and rip the dashboard camera off and crush it.

Spotting a navy blue rain sicker I slip it on over my blood soaked clothes and pull the hood up. Guess I'm walking. Looking up at the street sign I realize I'm close to a Gangrel friend's house. I check my pockets for the spare key I was entrusted to. Looks like I'm gonna be encroaching on his hospitality again. I keep to the darker side of the sidewalk, cutting through the neighborhood until I reach a copse of trees. Following a barely noticable path through the woods, the looming Victorian comes into my view in no time. Slipping my key in the lock, I swing the door open. Mongrel looks up from the desk he's drawing at. I say nothing, giving a tentative smile as I try to keep my blood drenched clothes from dripping on the carpet. After a beat, he points to the bathroom “Don't use all the hot water this time.” and returns his attention to his art. I close the door behind me and head towards the bathroom. Passing Mongrel, he gives a hearty sniff and I catch an almost imperceptible smirk. I giggle and prepare to wash off the remains of my bloody and boisterous night.