#pmstart

Old habits died hard. Once Armand had gotten a taste for blood, it was hard to quit cold turkey. He had an addictive personality, and giving up drugs just meant he had to find a thrill somewhere else. The release he needed came from spilling blood and leaving a trail of bodies behind.

Of course, he was smarter about things now. He’d figured out the right way to dispose of them. It wouldn’t lead back to him. It couldn’t. He was finally happy with his life. He couldn’t throw it all away. But dear God, he couldn’t stop killing. It just felt too damn good.

He disposed of his most recent kill, having removed all fingerprints with acid, removed and crushed the teeth, and dismembered the corpse. But that wasn’t enough for him. He’d left the limbs in various locations. It would be harder to pinpoint his location that way, in the eventuality that a limb was found.

He washed off his tools and cleaned up his ‘workshop’, then headed home.

Things had certainly been going well for Armand. He was successful, and even better, he was respected. He’d managed to clear his name, which meant he had freedom. He didn’t have to live in squalor anymore. He had a gorgeous home, and a successful business front; the perfect alibi. But even more of his money came from illegal deals. He had truly risen to power. He was untouchable, and he loved every moment of it.

The best part was that having so much control meant he owned the streets. They were as safe or as dangerous as he wanted them to be. No crime happened that he didn’t want to happen. And if it did, the criminal at hand faced him. He wanted justice for years, and now he was justice.

Armand had made an extremely tough decision. He couldn’t stand by for what his boss was doing anymore, and he cut the best deal of his life with authorities. His record would be wiped clean and he’d be a free man if he testified against his boss. This act would certainly clean the streets up a lot, and it would save a lot of lives. Of course, the biggest threat would be surviving the trial.

The day it was all over, he breathed his first breath as a free man; one with a new identity, but he was used to that. He’d had plenty of identities over the years. This time, he had a better shelter, and he was even given a job at a restaurant where he had an opportunity to work his way up to chef. He could really have a life for once, one without crime!

The only catch was that he’d have to share the house with another person under protection. He didn’t do well with strangers, but if it meant freedom, he’d deal with it. Stepping foot into the house for the first time felt incredible. He quickly claimed his own bedroom; the master bedroom, then went on to explore the rest of the house. There was even a basement and a garden in the back yard! But the kitchen was to die for! 

Highway to Hell [open]

Armand lay back on his bed, eyes half-lidded. The empty syringe rested on the floor below, beside the tourniquet. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so good. His lips parted as the sweet drug pumped through his veins and he allowed it to take over.

"I didn't steal anything, I swear! You're making a mistake! I didn't do it!" Armand cried out, heart racing. He couldn't be arrested for stealing a second time. He couldn't handle jail again. The first time was enough and it was all He could think about besides running. If He thought he had even a chance at making it, He would've tried already.