Through the Eyes of Madness—Part Eight
By: David K. Montoya

When the Sun descended, thicker and darker clouds moved into the city. The rain fell harder and faster in intermittent flash floods which steered the toxic aroma of the landscape into the open air. It was a scent of sex, alcohol and human flotsam that wafted into the atmosphere was commonplace for a living purgatory of man.

While the normal slept, the deranged walked the lonely streets. They searched for their pray, the weak the helpless, the people that would never be noticed if they vanished. Those were only a few of the thought that crossed his mind, while he moseyed down the wet sidewalk.

He kept his eyes lowered, his gray eyes had caused people to stop and stared. Typically, he wore sunglasses, it was acceptable even at one in the morning. That was the type of bourgeois the metropolis bred, but tonight, because of the continuous downfall of rain, the gray eyed man would not be awarded an opportunity to cover his eyes.

A few excitable feeling crossed his gut, as he passed the strip club, were he met Tabitha. She was delicious, but a little to aggressive for him. He walked to a corner where 5th Street and Terrence Avenue then waited at a stoplight, when he navigated through the crosswalk—something caught his eye and a smile grin wiped across his face.

It was a popular biker bar known as Iron Mike's, he knew that's were he would find his next one-night-stand. That's what he called them, because it was always a hello and good-bye afterward never to be seen again, by anyone—well, alive anyway.

Once he reached the other side of the sidewalk, he eyeballed the large building. While most experts on the art of homicide proclaimed many time over that a killer would never approach their victim in a largely populated place, like Iron Mike's, that was not true.

In fact, he preferred large bars, a place where everyone is intoxicated and allowed for easy pickings.

Just before he entered the canteen, he removed a small gold band from his pocket and slid it onto his left ring finger and squeezed his hand into a tight fist. He watched as the foreign object settled into place, after a few moment opened his hand and investigated it for its look of authenticity.

Even paced, the gray eyed man moved along the back wall until he reached the bar and took a seat. He watched in silence as the bartender performed for his patrons while he made their requests. Finally after a few rounds for the others the man behind the counter asked, "What are you having?"

The gray eyed man knew that he could not get plastered, that would make thing sloppy. After a quick moment, he replied, "Jack and Coke."

The bartender nodded and responded, "Right up."

He dropped a ten on the counter, and thought, Two rounds shouldn't impair me.

With a loud clank the glass made contact with the wood, and all in one motion the gray eyed man snatched up the drink and slugged it back in one motion. The bartender stared a bit surprised as the man lowered the glass and asked for another.

"Hardcore my man, do I need to keep up this pace," the Bartender asked while he mixed up another drink.

"Nah, I'll take my time with this one." The gray eyed man answered. Once the next drink was in his hand, he continued, "Keep the leftover for your tip."

The Bartender nodded and said, "Thanks man, let me know when you're ready for another."

He took a sip from his drink, and was lost in thought for a moment before he heard: "Mind if I have a seat next to you?"

The alcohol had reached his brain, and a felt a bit numb and in an almost monotone answered, "Go a head."

"Sorry to disturb you. You seemed deep in thought." She woman said as she placed her purse and drink on the counter. "I'm Cassy."

The smell of her sweet perfume brought him back to reality, and reminded him of his mission. He looked over at her with a smile, she was a younger attractive blond—possibly a model of an actress based on her bright white smile alone. Most likely had daddy issues, and preferred older men, which was perfect for him.

"Hi Cassy." He said in his best Barry White voice. They made eye contact for the first time, her mouth dropped open at the sight of his wolf-like color.

"You have gorgeous eyes!" Cassy said in a bubbly tone.

"Thank you," He said, and took another sip from his drink. They sat there at the counter for a few moments in awkward silence, then the gray eyed man begin to gently tap the ring he put on earlier against the thin glass.

It was as if on cue, the lady asked, "Lady problems?"

He did his best and held in a devious smile. In his best sad and alone face the man looked at her and said in his deep voice, "She left me. I came home from work, and she emptied out the place. Took everything, but a note telling me how, despite working sixty hours a week, I just didn't take good enough care of her."

He took another sip, and tapped his band against the glass—again, silence.

Cassy looked at him a few times, she searched her thoughts for a conversation topic. Finally she blurted out, "Do you know why we wear a ring on our left fingers?"

Behind the glass, he grinned and knew he had her and turned his attention to Cassy and said innocently, "No. No I do not."

A big bright smile slipped passed Cassy's lips. She took his hand then said, "See, back in the sixteen hundreds, the church forbid the study of the human body. Because they felt it was desecration and would not have a body to return to after judgment day."

"Interesting." He said, and watched as she nervously played with his golden band.

"So, most of our medical knowledge was just guesses." Cassy said, and placed her index finger on top of this ring finger and traveled up along his hand, arm and stop at where his heart would had been. "It was commonly thought back then that there was a vein in you left ring finger that lead directly onto the heart."

"I never knew that," he responded and gave her a convincing sad expression. "Well, I guess when I take it off, I'm removing my heart as well—because she certainly took it."

"Awe. I'm sorry." Cassy said, she leaned in and gave him a hug. He smelled the strong odor of vodka on her breath.

She's drunker than I thought, he thought to himself. Her smell turned his gut, and a bit of heated anger shook through is body, but he remained claim.

"I don't usually do this sort of thing, but would you like to comeback to my place with me?" Cassy asked. "I haven't been screwed since I moved here from the country."

He tilted his head in amusement and said, "Wow. That was straightforward."

"Oh my gosh! I was, wasn't I?!" She said nervously.

He nodded to answer her question.

"I'm not like that. A whore, I mean." Cassy said a bit frantically. "I'm just lonely, and I thought maybe I'd come here an—"

He gently placed his finger on her lips to stop her from rambling.

"I didn't say no, I just said it was straightforward." He said, and followed it up with a smile.

The man stand from the counter and Cassy knocked back the rest of her drink before she stood. He placed his arm around her waist, and they walked casually out of the bar.


On the outside, the rain fell harder from the night's sky. Instantly the two were drenched as they stepped out into the uninviting weather, Cassy took a step away from her evening's suitor and played innocently in the rain for a moment.

Even for a moment, the gray eyed man watched as she spun around and danced in the rainfall with a smile. He examined her body, as the wet clothes allowed him to see what was underneath. A firm and healthy body, perky breasts with excited nipples that burst through the top she wore.

Cassy turned toward him with concupiscence in her eyes and said, "Oh, I miss dancing in the rain. Back home, we got rain all the time. I never thought I'd miss it."

He recognized the invitation and walked up to her, before she could say anymore the man leaned in and placed a passionate kiss upon her lips. Cassy met and reciprocated with her own kiss that lasted for almost a minute. She pulled away and took a breath and asked, "I know this sounds crazy, but let's not wait to go to my place. My car is right over there."

The man replied with a smile, and went back in for another kiss.

They wandered blindly around the parking lot, until they reached the two reached her Prius that her daddy bought her before she moved into the city. While she was caught in the romantic moment, her would-be paramour felt his hatred for her build. He had a desire that burned for her, but it was not one for sexual pleasure. But, he continued. He was a good actor, and knew how to play along. Cassy finally stepped back and pulled out her keys from her purse.

The lights flashed as the doors unlocked, Cassy opened the door and then looked at him and said, "I know it's small, but I'm sure it'll fit."

Cassy bent over to crawl in through the passenger's side. With her back turned to him, the gray eyed man saw the opportunity and struck her in the back of the head a weight he had in his pocket.

Immediately her body dropped. The man quickly looked around for witnesses, then grabbed her by the waist and lunged her inside the car.

He leaned inside and ripped her thin shirt from her and wrapped it around her head. But, it was too thin and saturated from the rain—he could still see her face.

"Fuck!" He said frustrated. The gray eyed man turned his head away as he plummeted the blade of his knife into Cassy's body. His attack became wild and violent, as he stabbed blindly until he was physically unable to raise his arm.

Exhausted he got out of the car, and leaned against it for a few moments. Winded, his heart race, but he was unsatisfied. It was different than the others, but he knew that it would have to do for now. The man used his elbow and slammed the door closed, disappointed he walked away into the night once again, unseen or undetected.

To be continued…


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