+ xdorsiaâ.| continued from {xoxo}.
   You know what they say âcuriosity killed the cat.â The young socialite sociopath was on her way out into the chill of night air. Yet another drab experience on yet another idiotic date. Why did she agree to these things anyhow? She had slipped away while he was mid-conversation with one of his fellow co-workers. BORING. Pity, too. The girl was feeling particularly stab-happy and had fantasized about what his pretty little neck wouldâve looked like against the polished silver of her fancy cutting blade.     Jillian never felt threatened by thugs, or things that went bump in the night. She was never terrified nor did she fear those who could probably mug her at any momentâs notice. The rich little brat had a way all her own of protecting herself. So as she sauntered about in her designer fur and dripping in diamonds, she merely placed a cigarette between her perfectly pouted lips and continued on her way. That was until she heard muffled cries, woes of someone in obvious need, clearly being hindered by their attacker from making much of a sound. She recognized such signature, subdued sniveling, this girl did not stand a chance, sheâd be a goner in seconds. Oh. She should help her. Mocking thought roamed her mind and she couldnât help but laugh at herself. Why would she honestly care? She had lived long enough to play the victim once upon a time. Now, on occasion, she got her hands dirty...just for fun.Â
   It didnât take her long to stumble upon the alleyway at which the killer had taken his prize. Socialite canted her head, sucking in toxins from her cigarette before releasing the smoke into the air. He was a curious one, intriguing to say the least, a mad-man at its best.       âWhy is it that men think they are entitled to all the BAD?â She kinked a brow. âOh, look at you. You ruined a perfectly good suit.â she feigned pouting and she dared saunter forward, the clicking of designer heels echoing against damp brick. Jill took note of his latest choice. âBlonde.â she mused. âDo we like blondes?â Without further thought she leaned down and ran her tongue along his cheek, taking up some of the crimson fluid that rested upon his flesh. âNice work, sloppy, but nice.â she whispered. âBut, you know. You better hurry. I saw some cops a few blocks back.â Jillian lived to walk dangerous ground, it was why she wasnât afraid of him -- well that and her own psychotic tendencies. âPromise not to tell. Cross my heart and hope to die.â she stated in sultry tone. âBonus points, my place isnât that far from here. You canât go around wearing someone elseâs blood now can you?âÂ
