Ideserve to be the one to take his life, whether it’s wrong or right.
But I had my chance, and I wasted it on a stupid, earth-shattering orgasm.
Ugh.
Settling into the couch, I watch the news with Derek, thinking about my own killer…
I think about Lee Turnov and what, if anything, he did to deserve such a horrendous death.
And I think about New York City’s newest serial killer, and how long he’ll be at large, before he’s ultimately caught like the rest.
“My parents legit want me to move to Long Island.”
“Ew.”
“I’m serious,” Liv chuckles, taking the joint her girlfriend is holding out to her. “They don’t want me living in a known serial killer hunting ground.”
“I’d rather get hacked apart by The Carver than live in Long Island,” Josie teases.
“The Carver doesn’t kill women,” Will says pointedly. “So you’re safe.”
Liv grins at him and he winks.
Her head cocks. “Even women with a dick?”
“I’m confused, do youwanthim to kill you?” Will huffs, and we laugh.
“I keep telling you, if you’d stop showing strangers your genitals, you wouldn’t have to worry about The Carver’smodus operandi,” Josie teases.
“Oohlook at you with the Latin!” Will snaps his fingers.
“Wait, youkeeptelling her that??” I giggle, and Will cackles.
A few of us are hanging out at Josie’s place, drinking and smoking… and talking about serial killers, apparently. Though, to be fair, allanyonecan talk about lately is The Carver.
New York City’s very own present-day Boogeyman.
Over the last six months, bodies have been popping up all over the city, and people are freaking out. Then last week,The New York Timesput out an article giving the monster a name…
The Carver.Because he carves up his victim’s faces before he leaves their bodies posed in random places that I’m sure have meaning to him.
Or her. Let’s not be sexist here.
And now the conversation has been fully hijacked. It’s allCarverall the time. But I’m not exactly mad about it.
I’ve been following the story since the Rockefeller thing, and it’s nothing shy of super interesting. Scary as hell, since I live in Brooklyn, where at least five of the victims were from. But still, I’m more intrigued than I am concerned, which is probably pretty stupid.
But hey… what else have I got going on right now?
Nada.
“There are definitely more victims than they’re letting on.” Derek plops down with a bottle of vodka in his grip. “Ones they’re not counting ‘cause they weren’t posed.”
“But the cops said—”
“Thecopshave their heads up their asses,” Will grunts, puffing on the joint. “That’s why they had to bring in that FBI agent. Because they’re incompetent. I mean, this person’s been running around slaughtering people for ayearand they haven’t found a single witness?” We all stare at him until he elaborates. “It’s because they’re not looking.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Liv huffs. “Of course they’re looking.”
