Like many teenagers, Eric had his hobbies, but unlike many teenagers, his hobby was somewhat dangerous. Not just to him, but the people around him. At school, he was known as a nice guy who was always friendly with the guys and girls. He got good grades and awards at nearly every assembly, even the teachers absolutely adored him, but that didn�t make him any less �cool� around his friends. He was a really popular guy with everyone in the school, but still, that�s not to say that he didn�t have his enemies. Eric liked having enemies, it gave him his kick out of life. Behind the backs of everyone he knew, Eric had a secret that, if anyone else knew, he could get a life sentence in jail. He killed people, not just any people, people he knew. People he liked, generally girls. His girlfriends always made great targets.

There was no particular reason why he killed, only for his enjoyment. He liked seeing the pain in his victims eyes as he slowly tortured them to death. But what he enjoyed even more was watching their families mourn the death of their beloved child, as he pretended to mourn with them. Oh, that was another thing that he looked for in his victims. They had to be a single child. It made the pain of the families that much sweeter.

Eric was seventeen years old, in his last year of high school and about to go to one of the top universities in the world. He had long black hair streaked with a vibrant blue colour, but of course, that wasn�t his natural hair colour. He naturally had light brown hair. He also had brown eyes, but there was something about those plain brown eyes that always managed to entrap female friends of the right kind. His dark, tanned skin was also another attractive feature of his body. He was not tall for his age and was often mistaken to be younger than seventeen and at times, but that too had its upsides.

Eric lived at home with his two parents whom were always fighting for some reason or other and his older brother. Like Eric, Cameron had a thing for death. He in fact was the one who introduced the sick concept to Eric at the age of nine. But circumstances had been different for Cameron, he didn�t like the kill itself or the aftermath of the parents mourning as Eric did. He simply needed to do it, to have some sort of piece of mind. But he had never been caught and since Eric had become the mass murderer of the family, Cameron found himself killing less and less. Which for him, was a good thing.

For the past three years, just as Eric�s desire had gotten more intense, Eric�s parents� had gotten on less and less. They were constantly fighting and throwing objects at each other. Eric didn�t care for his parents much. In fact he didn�t really care for anyone. All he cared for was his desire to kill and to feed that desire as much as possible. He even had his next victim picked out. Unlike the last three victims he killed, this was a male. His name was Sebastian Marks, he sat next to Eric in Ancient History and was a real �nerd.� But Eric was nice to everyone at school, no matter how dorky they seemed. That was just how he was, or rather how he seemed. Sebastian was taller than Eric, larger too. He was caucasian with typical blond hair and blue eyes and regardless of his size, he wasn�t all that attractive.

The reason Eric had chosen Sebastian was very simple. Sebastian had recently lost his twin brother in a car accident and it had sent to whole family except him into a catatonic like state. Technically Sebastian wasn�t an only child generally putting him off the list of victims but in Eric�s eyes, the car accident had put him at the top of the list. The Mark�s had lost one son and had barely become vegetable , imagine what would happen if they lost both. Maybe just this once, Eric would leave the body for the parents to find in his bed, seeming as though he was sleeping.

It was a slow end to the hot winter�s day, three o�clock came so gradually, Eric got a startle when the school bell rang. When he realized it was time to go home, a small smile came to his lips and he could taste the sweetness of blood. He got up from his seat, scraping it on the carpeted floor. He picked his bag up from behind the chair and dumped it on the table, Sebastian who was sitting next to him jumped but smiled weakly at Eric. Eric smiled back, trying to shove his books in as fast as he could. Friday afternoons always seemed so rushed and time seemed to go so slowly. Sebastian had turned back to putting his own things in his bag, doing it slowly and carefully that if it were anyone but Eric, they would have gotten annoyed and told him to hurry up, but Eric just smiled kindly and waited for Sebastian to finish up. He put his chair under the table and began to walk towards the door. Eric placed his hand on Sebastian�s back, slowing him down so he could catch up.

�Hey Seb, what are you doing this weekend?� Eric took his hand of Sebastian�s shoulder and swung the other strap of his bag over his own shoulder. Sebastian knew Eric pretty well, they sat next to each other in almost all their classes that they had together. The teachers sat them together because they believed Eric was a good influence on Sebastian.

�Hi Eric, I dunno, I was thinking of watching Star Trek for most of the time. I also have to do my English assignment. Why?�

�No reason, I just thought we might go see a movie or something. You interested?�

�Yeah sure. What time?� This was exactly what Eric wanted. His mind began to burn with desire, he had Sebastian in his trap. A spider that can see the fly, flying blindly into his neatly spun web. He could already taste it.

�You walking home? I�ll walk with you and we can talk about it on the way.� Sebastian nodded his head. They had just reached the door when the teacher called out to Sebastian. Eric had a feeling that they were going to talk about the recent car accident that had killed Sebastian�s brother. Eric wanted to hear what was going on but not seem as though he was eves dropping. He walked out of the room but doubled back alongside the wall and stopped just before the door. He heard the deep voice of his teacher, Mr. Vaughn speaking to Sebastian in a calm patronizing manner. It was the same tone that psychologists use when they want to seem like they care but only do the job for the pay and don�t really give a shit about anyone�s problems. Eric smirked about his own thoughts.

Hearing footsteps coming from the room, he quickly took steps back from the door and interested himself in the notice bored above his head, seeing adds for a play with the local youth center, a car for sale and a whole bunch of other weird and wonderful things.

Sebastian came out from the room, tears in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away when he saw Eric standing in the hallway. Sebastian was shocked because no one had ever waited for him and of all people he hadn�t expected Eric to wait. He approached Eric slowly, still trying to wipe away his tears. Eric, willing Sebastian to walk faster smiled once again, shoving his hands into his pockets.

�You didn�t have to wait for me,� Sebastian said weakly, his voice was shaking and Eric could tell that Sebastian was fighting to hold back the tears. Eric�s smile didn�t fault with the sight of Sebastian�s obvious pain. Rather he had to hold back the urge to laugh at the pitiful sight he saw in Sebastian�s meaningless existence. It was not uncommon for Eric to think this about his male victims, and sort of heightened his enjoyment of killing them. Nothing pitiful should live in this world.

�I know. But I wanted to, and I said I�d walk home with you didn�t I?� Sebastian smiled and they walked out.

Walking home, Eric had learnt a lot about Sebastian. Thinks like his favorite colour was purple and that Sebastian had a dog named �Shapes�. When Eric asked why the dog was called �Shapes�, Sebastian replied by saying that the dog was a Dalmatian and that his spots looked were all different shapes. Eric laughed on the inside but nodded his head kindly.

Eric hadn�t told Sebastian much about himself. It was too dangerous to go into detail, for both of them. And Eric couldn�t tell Sebastian why he�d taken a sudden interest in him. It would have freaked Sebastian out and he may have gone to the police. Of course, they probably would�ve thought Sebastian was a lunatic or something. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry.

Every time Sebastian asked Eric a personal question, Eric had trailed off then turned the question back onto Sebastian. Sometimes the questions got a little too close to home and Eric had to lie, but he had become a good liar. He�d had to lie to the police many times when he was questioned about the disappearance of his classmates. He always seemed to have an alibi.

He would always take his victims out to dinner or something but before hand insisting that he drive them. It was just easier if he drove. Then, when taking them home, he�d take a long detour, by the time they noticed they were already out in the country, in an enclosed field. When he was finished with the bodies, he�d take them back to their houses, and leave them on the back door step for their parents to find. Because his parents were always fighting, they never noticed when Eric left the house. Only Cameron noticed, but he knew what Eric was doing, and he couldn�t tell the police where his brother had been without exposing himself. He knew that if he told on Eric, Eric would turn back on his brother and they�d both be in the same boat, in which Eric would sink.

Eric�s killings had no particular pattern to them except all his victims were teenagers. This made it hard for the police to pin down any real suspects. They would almost always question the same people. Mostly class mates, friends that they hung around with, boyfriends, girlfriends and teachers. That was a large list and growing all the time. Eric had left them clues on some occasions. Not much, mostly just one-worded notes put with the body. But they were never taken into much account. But that was the way Eric liked it. It made it just that more exciting.

He walked through the front door of his house only to hear the welcoming sound of glass being thrown around in the kitchen and the high pitched screams that was his mother. His father would start yelling soon, and it would be loud enough that it could be heard at the other end of the street. The kitchen was at the other end of the house and he was glad that he wouldn�t have to go past his parents to get to his room.

He walked passed his brother�s room and noticed the door open, the beautiful smell of blood lingered in the air. It had been nearly a year since Cameron had stopped killing. His need had lessened and he was content with Eric doing all the work. Eric was the only one who could smell blood after it had been cleaned up. Cameron had forgotten what the smell of lingering blood was and every time Eric pointed out that he could still smell it, Cameron went through this stage of having to scrub his room, walls, the floor, the ceiling, clothes, everything.

Walking in, he breathed in the sweet, sweet smell. The sensation that went through him, he closed his eyes for a blissful moment before hearing the far off voice of his brother that brought him back to himself. It took a moment for Eric to understand what Cameron was saying.

�Eric?�

�Yeah?� He smiled at his brother, the way he�d smile before a kill. Cameron knew the look. It was one he possessed at one stage. When he started killing. One that he wished he could forget. He stood up from his bed. �I love the smell of blood. Your room is saturated with the sweet scent.� Eric looked around the room. Posters of old famous bands covered up the white painted walls. The carpet was an ugly gray colour, stains of coffee and other things were easily seen. Cameron�s light, like always, was off and the room was very dark. It was a small room and didn�t have much furniture. It couldn�t fit more than a bed, wardrobe and a dressing table. His dressing table was cluttered with pictures of dragons, dragon sculptures and almost anything to do with dragons of the sort.

�Shut up!� Eric�s eyes rested back on his brother as he stood up from his bed. Cameron was at least a foot taller that Eric, maybe more. He had blond hair and deep, dark blue eyes, taking after his mother. His skin was almost as white as a ghost and was very skinny. His looks certainly weren�t as plain as Eric�s, yet he was the less attractive of the two.

�Poor, poor Cameron. What�s happened to you? You used to enjoy the smell of blood.� Eric was still smiling in his evil fashion. Cameron snarled and turned his back to Eric.

�I never enjoyed the smell of blood. My room does not smell like blood. Get out.� Abiding by his brother�s wish, he left, but not before laughing at Cameron. Eric did enjoy teasing Cameron. It was the only fun in his house.

His own room was between Cameron�s and the bathroom. He was surprised to hear the sounds of shattering glass had subsided, but the wails of his parents were just as loud as ever. He walked into his own room. It didn�t have the same smell of blood to it.

He dropped his bag beside his bed and went over to his dressing table. His room wasn�t much bigger than Cameron�s but it looked bigger because his walls weren�t plastered with posters. Sighing, he undid his tie and put it away in his draw. He went over to his bed and lay down, looking up at the ceiling. He had organized to get together with Sebastian on Sunday, they were going to go see a movie but at the last minute Sebastian said that he couldn�t. His grandparents were coming over for dinner and he had to be there no matter what. So Eric had planned to do his job on Saturday night and let his family find him early in the morning, spoiling any happiness they would have that day.

Eric sat up and pulled out a small cardboard box from under his bed. Cameron walked in and stood just inside the doorway. He leant against a clear bit of wall and crossed his arms and ankles. He looked anxious, nervous but her rested calmly against the wall. The sound of something large and made of glass shattering made Cameron wince, Eric thought about another hundred dollars had been wasted on his parents� arguments.

Eric stared at Cameron. Cameron had closed his eyes and was listening to his mother yell blasphemy at his father. It had startled him to hear his father yell back. He opened his eyes to the strange, almost amused look of Eric. Eric had understood what Cameron was doing. He was taking in the chaos around him, absorbing the hate that surrounded his parents and as much as he wanted to get away from it, he couldn�t, he enjoyed the sensation but hated it at the same time.

An evil, sinister laugh escaped Eric, sending a shiver colder than wind through Cameron. He glared back at Eric.

�Stop it,� he said roughly. Eric stopped laughing but continued grinning at Cameron, an evil smirk.

�How can I help you Cameron?� Cameron stood up, putting all his weight on his left leg, his arms remained folded. He paused a moment. He wanted to close his eyes again, absorb the negative energy from his brother, but he knew he couldn�t do that.

It wasn�t exactly absorbing negative vibes, not in the sense that it took away energy or anything like that. No one got hurt and Cameron didn�t gain any more strength. It was more like, when being in a room full of good vibes, people couldn�t help but be happy too.

Being around negative vibes made Cameron happy, and no matter how sick he thought it was, he couldn�t deny that. He knew it and unfortunately so did Eric. Eric probably knew it better than Cameron did. But Eric didn�t find it sick. He didn�t understand why Cameron did either.

�Have you got your next one planned out?� Cameron said quietly, careful about what he said. Almost in a whisper, trying to keep Eric from hearing what he said.

�Are you afraid mum or dad are going to hear you Cam?� Eric said almost laughing. He stood up from his bed and put the box down carefully. �Yes, I have. His name is Sebastian Marks. Why? Interested in helping me?� He stepped closer to Cameron, who tried to back up but stepping into the wall, he shook his head nervously. �C�mon Cam, it�ll be fun. Just like old times, you remember don�t you?� Cameron took another step back towards the door, but didn�t make any motion to answer Eric�s question. �Fine. Whatever. So what do you want?�

�Nothing, nothing,� Cameron�s voice was quiet and jittery, he was nervous. He backed out of Eric�s room completely and went back to his own room.

�Nice talking to you Cameron,� Eric called out. He went and sat back down on his bed, picking up the box again. He pulled off the lid and threw it hastily to the end of his bed. Inside the box he kept pictures of his victims, his artwork. One picture he liked in particular was of a young girl, around the age of 15, his first every kill. She was laying naked on her bed, her right arm poised up against her face and her left cradling where her left breast should have been had Eric not cut it off. What the camera didn�t show was that at the back of her neck, was a large slit where Eric had stabbed her to stop her from screaming.

He leaned forward, picked the lid up and put in back on the box. He lay sideways on his bed, still holding the box, and put it as far back as he could. He sat up again and stared at his wall for a moment. Eric was a smart person, he got top grades at school and it didn�t take him long to learn things. But there wasn�t much he thought about. His mind was like an empty void of darkness that had no beginning to it, and no end. It was almost as if he was dead inside and all that lingered was a shell of nothingness. No words, no memories, nothing.

Suddenly, he blinked and shook his head. He stood up and walked over to his school bag, picked it up, walked back to his bed. It was strange that a person like himself still did his homework. He pulled out his school diary and flicked to the day�s date, sixteenth of October. He didn�t have much homework, just a few math problems he had to solve and he would be done.

When he had nothing to do but wait, Eric slept. He could sleep for hours, sometimes even days on end. He got changed into some plain navy blue shorts and got into his bed, it didn�t take long for him to fall asleep. He didn�t dream when he was asleep either, he only ever went into that really deep sleep where you don�t dream, like a state of unconsciousness.

He woke up late afternoon the next day. His room was still as dark as night because his blinds were closed and no lights were on. He threw back his covers and stood up. It was a hot day, maybe thirty-five degrees celsius or hotter. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he walked out of his room, into the kitchen. His mother had stopped yelling, but she was holding a wineglass above her shoulder, ready to throw it. Her cold blue eyes shifted from his father to Eric. She had pale white skin and long, wavy blond hair that contradicted his own.

As a little kid, whenever Eric had gone out with his mother, people had always commented that they looked nothing alike, which these days, Eric was grateful for. Eric looked more like his father, Peter, was tall with short, plain brown hair and dull brown eyes that were very shallow, making it very easy to read him just by looking into his eyes. Eric liked looking like his father less than he liked looking like his mother. He was a handsome boy, and knowing that his father must have been handsome once sent shivers up his spine.

His father also looked at him, bringing his hands down from his head, shielding himself from the wineglass that had intended to be thrown at him. He was safe as long as Eric was in the room. Eric smiled coolly at his parents� discomfort.

�Don�t let me stop you,� he said, walking to the fridge. It was obvious that they had been fighting for at least an hour. If they�re not fighting then they�re ignoring each other. And if they�re not ignoring each other, then one of them has left the house and wont be back for hours.

His mother lowered her hand and put the wineglass safely on the bench behind her. Her eyes darted uneasily from Eric to his father and back to Eric again. She hurriedly walked out of the room, a moment later the front door slammed shut. Eric fought back his sinister laugh. He got out a coke can from the fridge. He looked at his father who was leaning against the bench. He looked tired, not from fatigue but from life. Eric, once, had contemplated on putting his father out of his misery, but it was much to fun having him alive.

Cameron walked into the kitchen, glancing back at the front door. His eyes wandered around the room, stopping at Eric�s cruel smirk. His father was crying into his hands. Cameron opened his mouth, closed it, then said, �where�d mum go?� Peter lifted his head, looked at Cameron, Eric, then walked out of the room.

�She walked out of the house, I don�t know where she went.� Cameron glared at Eric and also walked out of the kitchen. Eric sniggered.

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Eric walked over to his dressing table and got out a black polo shirt from the third drawer. He walked out of his room, across the hall into the living room. Actually it had become a storage room with a couch in it. It had never been used as a living room and over the years had built up with boxes, cupboards and wardrobes. Whatever hadn�t fit in Eric or Cameron�s room had gone into this room.

He walked over to a wardrobe, opened the doors carefully and slowly. He unhooked some black jeans and a black denim jacket. He had chosen to wear black for two reasons. One he looked less conspicuous and two, blood showed up less on black. It was a simple rule he had learnt from Cameron, and one of the only rules that he followed.

He closed the wardrobe doors again and spun around. He jumped, seeing a dark figure in the doorway. When he realized it was only Cameron, he growled low in his throat.

�What are you doing there?� he said hostily. He squinted, trying to see Cameron�s face clearly but couldn�t. Cameron was good at using shadows to his advantage so no one could see him properly. Eric took a few steps forward, but Cameron was determined to keep the distance between them and took twice as many steps back, until he backed up against the wall.

�I couldn�t sleep,� Cameron said. Truth was, Cameron only ever slept five or less hours a week. If he slept more than one hour a night, he had nightmares about his victims. They would come back from the dead and torture him, the way he had tortured them. He could survive off one hour of sleep a night and he found it easier to live with himself if he didn�t sleep more than that.

Eric smirked again. The same expression that could mean everything and anything. Cameron swallowed hard, pressing himself flat against the wall as Eric closed the distance between them. Watching Eric take the last few steps, Cameron�s breathing became short and puffy, his heart beating hard against his ribs.

�I could put you to sleep permanently, Cameron,� Eric sounded comical, it was just a simple game to him.

�You can�t do that,� Cameron said raspy. Eric laughed. He raised his hand and lightly tapped Cameron�s cheek. He stepped back from Cameron, walking to the side of him and back into his room. He came back to the door, Cameron was still pressed against the wall.

�I may not be able to put you to sleep permanently, but that doesn�t mean I can�t scare you shitless,� and with that Eric walked back into his room.

Eric had an hour before he intended to leave. He pulled on his black jeans and took of his lose gray T-shirt. He bent down next to his bed and reached under. His fingers curled around the straps of a black backpack and he lifted it out onto his bed. He sat in front of the bag and curled his right leg under himself. This was where he kept all his possessions he used to kill his victims. He picked up his knife, gloves, blind fold and all his other equipment that he was going to use for the night. He looked up at the doorway, Cameron stood there uneasily, his arms held loosely by his side. Eric rolled his eyes.

�What now?� Eric groaned.

�You doing it tonight?� Cameron�s voice was shaky, Eric nodded his head. �What time you leaving?� Eric looked at the clock, then back at Cameron.

�In about an hour.� Cameron nodded his head slowly, he put his hands in his pockets clenching then into fists.

�There�ll be a lot of police out tonight, careful they don�t see you.� Eric rolled his eyes again.

�Cameron looking out for li�l old me?� Cameron shrugged sloppily. �Have I ever been caught?� Eric laughed.

�No, but it�s been close.�

�So, that�s half the fun of it.� Cameron cringed. It had been close. One night Eric had taken a victim away from the house to his little cave just outside the town. As he was driving along the highway, the police had pulled him over. Thought he looked suspicious driving out of town at three o�clock on a Wednesday morning. They had gone into a whole bunch of questioning, wanting to see what was in the boot. He got out of the car, the police realized it was Eric. All the police knew Eric, and they all liked him. He was well liked and no one down at the station believed he could kill anyone. The police officers apologized to Eric, saying they didn�t recognize him at first, then let him on his way.

�What happens if you do get caught? You put us both in jeopardy. We would go to jail for life.�

�Calm down Cameron. I�m not going to get caught. So the only way we will go to jail is if you squeal. Any you don�t want to do that, now do you?� Cameron shook his head slowly. �Good. Now run along.� Eric waved his hand for Cameron to go. Obliging, Cameron walked away.

Eric stood up and slipped the knife in the back of his jeans, the cold metal pressed against his skin, the edge of the blade cutting him. He closed the bag and threw it over his shoulders. He walked out of his room, into his parents� room. He put on his gloves, grabbed his fathers� keys from the bedside table. Eric stood a moment, just staring at his parents�, lying there together in the same bed. He wondered how two people who fought all the time and never spoke a single civilized word to one-another could sleep together in the same bed. He moved towards the door, glancing back slightly at his parents, he walked out. He opened the front door, Cameron came out of his room and watched Eric.

�Good luck,� Cameron said. Eric looked over his shoulder, sniggering.

�Cameron, luck is for losers.� He walked out and quietly closed the door, so as not to wake his parents�.

His fathers� car was a business car. Peter worked fixing office equipment like photocopiers and things. It was a black Mazda. Although, Eric didn�t pay much attention to car brand names. He thought it was stupid and a waste of precious time.

Eric opened the back door and put the bag on the seat. He left the door open and went to the back of the car. He grabbed the numberplate and slid it out. He then walked around to the front of the car and took the numberplate from there as well. He walked back to the open door of the car and put the number plates next to the bag. He slammed the door and walked around to the driver�s side, taking one last look at the house, he got in.

He drove along the back streets because they were dimly lit and were very rarely patrolled by police. It would take him half an hour to drive to Sebastian�s place using the main roads, meaning that it would take him well over and hour using the back roads. He turned on the radio and heard the voices of talk back radio. Sneering, he changed the station. He settled back in his seat watching the road. A couple of times, police passed his car but didn�t notice the missing numberplates. Either that or they were just plain blind.

It had taken him about an hour and ten minutes to drive to the west side of town. He pulled up outside a new estate. Sebastian lived at number twenty-nine Randolf Avenue, right in the middle of the estate. Eric thought for a moment. It was a very populated street and very open. It would be easy for people to spot him. But being around twelve-thirty in the morning, he figured most people would be asleep in bed. He pulled away from the curb, driving into the estate. He stopped the car three streets back from Randolf Avenue. He cut the ignition, but left the keys where they were. He sat and stared at the houses around him, made a visual map in his head, just incase he had to make it back to the car in a flash.

He opened the car door and stepped outside. The air was colder than when he left his house. And it was cleaner too, considering that he was used to the polluted inner-city air where he lived. He closed the door, but, since he was leaving the keys in the car, he didn�t lock it. He opened the back door of the car and reached for the bag. His fingers slowly curled around the strap of the bag and he threw it over his shoulder.

Two houses on the left side of the street he was at had their lights on and one on the right. He scanned the area for anyone who might be wandering around after a late night party or something. When he saw that he was alone, he began to walk forward, heading in the general direction of Randolf Avenue. He took a small detour in getting to Randolf Avenue incase any passer biers or home owners in the area happened to see him wandering around.

Sebastian�s house was a two story red brick. The front lawn was framed with many different coloured pansies along with a bunch of other flowers that Eric hadn�t taken much notice of. A sandstone path divided the lawn from a driveway leading up to a double garage. Eric admired the house for a moment. It was a nice suburban house and was well looked after. In fact he almost envied it. Almost, but not quite.

Sebastian�s parents were out for the night, making the timing that much better for Eric. He walked up the sandstone path, small bits of sandstone gravel crunched under foot. He looked over his shoulder, looking once again for any passer biers. Every house in the street had its lights off, and there were only a few streetlights to illuminate his surroundings, which he was thankful for. It always made his job just that little bit harder if the street was brightly lit. It made it easier for the police to spot him, which for the police would have been a good thing.

As well as his large knife that he had slipped in the back of his jeans, Eric also had a small pocketknife that he used for various other jobs. He walked around to the back of the house, looking for a partly open window or something he could open to get into the house. As he reached the back corner of the house he saw a still back garden. A cold wind swept through, rustling the leaves on trees and the petals on flowers. It was even more colourful at the back of the house than the front. It seemed that there were hundreds of different colours and kinds of flowers just in one flowerbed. Eric stood, amazed. His mother had never had the time for a garden, even when he was a little kid. She only even had time for her work. She had been a psychologist, but had to give it up because she was slowly going insane listening to other people�s problems day in and day out. And not one thing she had learnt at university or in the office could help her council her own marriage or even understand why she was fighting with her husband all the time.

He found an open window on the lower floor of the house. Climbing through, his feet didn�t touch the ground. Instead he was kneeling on the bench of Sebastian�s kitchen. He closed the window behind him and jumped quietly down to the floor, standing up just as soundlessly. He looked around the kitchen, dirty dishes left at the sink on the far wall, a toaster still out from breakfast that morning. Next to the doorway was the fridge, Eric walked over to it and opened it up. He believed you could tell a lot about a person or family by what they had in the fridge.

A half-eaten chocolate cake caught Eric�s attention, next to it three cans of coke. On the bottom shelves were some fruit, mostly all rotten and some vegetables, also rotten. On the top shelves were all the dairy foods, cheese, yogurt, chocolate milk. Eric closed the fridge and opened the freezer. Inside was an assortment of unhealthy frozen foods. Pizzas, chicken nuggets, fish fingers. Closing the freezer he also noticed a jar of lollies above it. He scoffed and walked through the kitchen door.

As Eric made his way through Sebastian�s house, he mapped out a floor plan in his head in case he needed a quick escape. His feet carried him up the stairs, he knew where Sebastian�s room was without even looking ahead. To the left of the stairs was a room, the parents� bedroom, across was his brother�s room, left the same way as when he had been alive. In between was a small red and white tiled bathroom. To the right of the stairs was a large amount of floor space used as a study area. Shelves were stacked up against the far wall, only leaving enough space for a window. Eric walked over to the shelves and found that they were dominated with books of philosophy and mythology. Eric remembered Sebastian saying something about his father teaching philosophy at a university.

The shelves stopped at double sliding glass doors that led out onto a veranda that would have been a nice place to spend summer mornings reading the newspaper or a good book. At night though, it just looked like another veranda overlooking a new estate.

Over on the desk was a green i-mac computer on one side of the desk, the mouse and keyboard were on one of those sliding trays attached to the bottom of the desk. In the other corner was a pile of papers, exams that had to be marked.

Eric ran his fingers along the desk as he walked around the corner to a room that was diagonally from the stairs. It was Sebastian�s room. Eric didn�t need to open the door to know the layout of the small room. In the far right corner would be Sebastian�s bed, next to it a bedside table with a lamp on top of it and a book he was reading. At the foot of the bed would be his desk, shelves above it with his schoolbooks and videos such as �Star-Trek� and documentaries on tigers and fish. Behind the door, a wardrobe in which most of his clothes, even his ripped T-shirts were hung up. And across from his bed would be a dressing table with a television and VCR on top.

Eric opened the door and the room was exactly as he thought. What he didn�t imagine, and was thankful for, was the way in which Sebastian slept. He was on his back, his right hand curled up near his face. His mouth was wide open, drool running down his cheek in a line of glistering mucus. Eric shivered at the less than pretty sight of Sebastian sleeping and he walked further into the room. When Eric got less than a meter within the bed, he could smell the horrid breath of Sebastian as he snored his dreams away. Eric swung his backpack on one arm until it was in front of him. From inside, Eric pulled out his Polaroid camera, taking a couple of �before� photos of his victim. When the photo images cleared up, he carefully placed them in a plastic slip and put it back in his bag.

He dropped his bag soundlessly to the ground and reached behind him. His fingers curled around the handle of the knife from the back of his pants. Even though there wasn�t much light in the room, the blade seemed to shimmer. He held the blade down in a position where it would be easy to stab. He raised the knife slowly above his own head, tightening his grip around the handle. Eric took the last two steps to Sebastian�s bed. He stood and watched as Sebastian took what would be his last breath.

Eric looked at Sebastian and quickly bringing down the knife, drove it into Sebastian�s throat. Sebastian�s eyes flew wide open and he started choking on his own saliva. Eric�s fingers uncurled from around the handle. He smirked at Sebastian, whose eyes were filled with shock and disbelief. He couldn�t believe that the figure standing before him was Eric, the only person who had been nice to him for who knows how long. Sebastian struggled to breathe, coming in short gasps, and he coughed. Eric crossed his arms, still smiling, just watching Sebastian�s pain.

Slowly, Eric unfolded his arms and curled his fingers once again around the handle of the knife. He pulled it up, trying to cause Sebastian as much pain as he possibly could. Sebastian closed his eyes and tried to scream but found that his scream was soundless and that it only caused him more pain. He felt the blade come free of his skin and looked up at it, fear coming to his eyes, seeing his crimson blood dripping from it. Eric looked at the blade, then to Sebastian�s eyes, smiling the whole time. Eric�s tongue slid along the sharp edge of the blade, licking off the blood.

Eric grabbed Sebastian�s right arm, pulling it down flat on the mattress. Sebastian watched Eric but he didn�t have the strength to fight back. Eric held up the blade and drove it into Sebastian�s elbow. He tried to scream again as Eric pulled the knife from the elbow down to his wrist. Tears rolled down his cheek as he struggled to deal with the pain. Eric pulled the knife quickly from Sebastian�s arm, tearing more of the skin. Blood seeped from the open wound, covering the white sheet below it. Eric smirked, leaning over Sebastian. Eric grabbed his left arm and lay it flat like he had with the right. And as with the right, Eric raised the knife above his head and then drove it into Sebastian�s left elbow.

Sebastian�s head jerked up, he tried to scream again. Eric waited a moment, letting Sebastian settle back down before pulling the knife down the arm. Tears rolled faster down Sebastian�s face, his eyes just watching as Eric slowly killed him. He then ripped the knife out, tearing the skin. Eric hadn�t stopped smiling the whole time. He was enjoying Sebastian�s pain, absorbing all the negative energy as Cameron had done back at his house. Eric closed his eyes, he was untouchable bliss. A pathetic attempt at a cough brought him back to himself. Sebastian was struggling even harder to breathe and coughing in the process. Eric laughed.

He grabbed Sebastian�s left wrist and folded his arm over his chest, then did the same with his right arm. Sebastian winced. Eric wiped the blade on the already darkening sheets until it glimmered again. It seemed even brighter than before. Eric stared at it, moving it so that light seemed to reflect off it, even though there was no light anywhere. He stepped back and picked up his backpack. He slid the knife inside and took the polaroid camera back out. He once again dropped the bag. He took a photo from the door, looking at Sebastian at an angle. He then moved to the foot of the bed and the side taking photos in different positions to highlight his handy work. From his bag, he took out the plastic slip he had put the first two photos in.

Eric kept two photos, putting the rest in the plastic sleeve back in the bag. The two he kept out, a photo of Sebastian sleeping soundlessly, unharmed. And a photo of him, his eyes wide open with fear, his arms crossed over his chest, blood pouring from the open wounds. A smile came to Eric�s lips. He looked from the photo to the now dead body of Sebastian. He pulled out an empty envelope from his bag and placed the photos inside before sealing it. He grabbed a pen form Sebastian�s desk and wrote �Mr. & Mrs. Marks� on the front. He stepped back and picked up his bag, throwing it over one shoulder. He looked at Sebastian one last time, then walked out of the room.

Eric had found his way back to the kitchen surprisingly easily considering how dark it was. He climbed back onto the bench top and jumped out the window. He misjudged the distance to the ground and hit it hard, his bag flying of his shoulder. He lay quietly and still for a moment, listening for footsteps or anything that sounded like life. When he determined the coast to be clear, he reached for his bag and stood up. Eric left the window open, as it had been when he found it. He didn�t much care for the beautiful garden anymore. He wanted to burn it, kill all the colour, but that would draw to much attention and he needed to get home and put the number plates back on the car before his parents or the rest of the street woke up.

He moved quickly and quietly back around to the front of the house. A woman was walking her dog in the early hours of the morning, Eric quickly crouched behind a large bush, keeping his eyes on her. When she was far enough away in the other direction Eric stood up and began his way back to the car. He moved stealthily, like a cat, taking the most direct path to the car. He didn�t bother with detours because he needed as much time as possible.

He got to the car without anymore trouble. The houses that had previously had their lights on were in the pitch black now. Eric just hoped that when he started the car, no one would be curious and come to their windows. He opened the back door and threw his backpack on the seat. He closed the door quietly and was cautions when walking around the car to the driver�s side. Eric opened the door, looked around and got in.

It took Eric nearly an hour and a half to get home and he almost ran into the police four times on his way. He had originally started taking the main roads home but they were to busy with police so he began taking the back streets. A few times he headed in the opposite direction for safety�s sake, incase anyone saw him. When he pulled up outside his house, in the same place it had been parked in previously, Eric looked around for anyone who might have been awake. Light was beginning to dawn and Eric could see the first ray of brightness on the horizon. Eric decided he had to move quickly and he got out of the car. He opened the back door and grabbed the number plates and his backpack. He threw his bag over one shoulder and slammed the door shut. He didn�t care about the sound anymore. Soon dogs will be barking and birds chirping, signaling the start of a new day. He went around the back and slid in the numberplate then went around the front and did the same. He clicked the button on the keys that automatically locked the door. The car beeped once. Eric looked around then headed towards to his house.

When he got inside, he closed the door quietly behind him. He treaded carefully as to not make any noise when going into his parent�s room. The air was light and cold with a stale smell to it, the kind that lingers around after being drunk. His parents were in the same position as when he left them. Eric placed the keys on the side table where they were then walked out, not giving his parents� another thought.

Across the hall, Cameron�s light was off in his room. He was probably on lying on his bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Eric knocked on the door but opened it before waiting for an answer from his brother. He stopped a moment, indulging in the sweet scent of blood before setting his attention on Cameron, who was looking at Eric with a hint of anticipation in his eyes.

�How�d it go?� Cameron sat up in his bed, his sheets fell from his chest exposing his white skin. A cold rush of wind swept through the room and Cameron shivered. Eric, on the other hand, indulged in the sensation. He smiled his cold, evil smile. A fear of a certain sort ran through Cameron, making him shiver once again. Cameron couldn�t understand how Eric, whom he had once been mentor to, could fill himself with that fear.

�It went well. I wasn�t seen by the police and no one heard Sebastian scream.� Cameron�s shoulder muscles eased. He was not scared for his brother. If the police ever did capture him, then he belonged in jail, if it could hold him. No, Cameron was scared for himself. He regretted every minute when he killed someone. He didn�t want to go to jail. He just wanted to forget he ever held a knife in his hand and used it to hurt a person.

�Good.�

�Dear brother, did you doubt me?� Cameron swallowed hard.

�No of course not.� Eric laughed and turned his back to Cameron.

He walked into his own room, already missing the scent on blood. He closed his door and threw his bag to bed. His room was starting to light up as the first signs of daylight came through his window. He sat down on the bed, crossing his legs under himself. He opened the zipper and emptied the contents of the bag onto his mattress. The camera bounced off the bed and landed on the floor with a thud.

�Damn it,� Eric muttered under his breath. He reached down and picked it up. He put it back up on the bed without much care. He picked up the knife and raised it to his face, in-hailing the only scent of blood in his room. The blood had begun to dry on the blade and no longer smelt fresh. He wiped what he could of the blood off onto his shirt, but it still had its crimson glow. He put it back down then picked up the plastic sleeve with the photos in it. He slid the photos out of the plastic sleeve onto the bed and spread them out with his hand.

Not Finished!