MicroHorror

A serial killer had San Francisco in his bloody grip. Six young girls had been slain in a telltale ghastly fashion over the last seven weeks, one every week. The seventh week wasn’t over yet, so police were frantic to prevent number seven from happening.

The serial killer, dubbed the Drainer by the press, was very methodical in his murders. Always white girls in their twenties, always abducted on the streets at night, always sexually tortured, and last, his motif, always drained of every ounce of blood in their bodies. The girls were conscious during it, so they were no doubt acutely aware as their life was slowly pumped out of them, drop by drop. The vats of blood were then left on the doorsteps of blood banks throughout the city.

Somewhere near Geary Street, the Drainer found victim number seven. Pretty, dark hair, nice body, very pale. He smiled to himself. Soon she would be even paler. White as a corpse, in fact. This girl was foolish to be walking alone on the dark, deserted streets this late at night. She was asking for it. And he would be glad to give it to her.

When Rachel Heywood came to, she was bound securely and spread-eagled to a stark metal bed frame in a dingy one-room dive. Naked, of course.

Marvin–the Drainer’s real name–stood creepily at the foot of the bed, apparently waiting for her to wake up. “Ready for some fun?” he asked in a low, monotonous voice, a sickly smile on his face.

“You have some nerve,” Rachel shot back angrily.

This was new. ”Girly, you can scream or beg, but no dialogues,” Marv replied harshly.

Rachel continued unaffected. “We don’t like what you are doing. Moving in on our territory. And draining those poor girls for nothing.”

“Look–” Marv moved to the head of the bed. “It’s your turn now, and I can promise you won’t enjoy this. And there is nothing you can do, no way to stop me.”

“Really?” Rachel cocked an eyebrow at him. “Last chance to give up and turn yourself into the police.”

“Girly,” Marv took off his belt, doubling it over carefully. “You’re a real nutcase. You’re tied up and helpless, and about to be tortured like you have no idea. You’ll scream for death soon enough.”

“Helpless?” Rachel replied. “You mean this?” With a slight tug, she snapped the nylon cord that bound her wrists to the bed frame. Then she freed her legs the same way.

“What the–” Marv began, but Rachel sat up and, grabbing his dirty T-shirt, flung him across the small room, hard into the wall, cracking the plaster.

Marv groaned as he collapsed to the floor, plaster crumbling down on him. Rachel stood up and tossed Marv up on the bed like he was a rag doll.

She slipped quickly back into her clothes. “I gave you the option to give yourself up. But you didn’t. So now, we take care of you.”

Marv could feel two of his ribs were broken. “Who is ‘we?’ You’re alone.”

Rachel leaned down, just inches from his face. Her eyes were blood red, and she had long fangs. “My friends are outside. They’ll come inside in just a moment. We will all have our turn on you.”

“Who–what–are you?” Marv sputtered in sudden panic.

Rachel smiled a horrible smile with her sharp fangs. “A vampire. We drain victims because we need to survive. You did it for no reason, just your own sick sport. We don’t like competition or attention to our habits. And you wasted all that delicious, young, warm blood.” She held him forcefully down on the bed, her fangs now at his neck. “It’s your turn now, and I can promise you won’t enjoy this,” she mimicked.

As she tore into his throat, other dark shapes came into the room, eyes glittering red.