Eliza-beth

We sat in a booth at the very back, where the lights were dim. I watched her push her glasses up the bridge of her nose—a habit I don't think she even realizes she has.

I had calculated at least one person finding out about me—it was planned. Why else would I kill someone in an alleyway without a mask. But Elizabeth—of all people, found out about me.

How annoying.

The girl who's completely uninterested in her surroundings—who fails gym class every time—just happened to be out on a walk and somehow uncovered my secret.

I was planning to kill whoever found out. First, I'd see their reaction—would they scream? Probably. Then cry? Absolutely. Begging would follow—always does—and negotiation. It was all pointless. They'd still die.

Not Elizabeth, never Elizabeth.

"Why do you kill people?" she asked, probably the first question that came to mind.

She was impulsive like that, not scared—maybe stupid. Overall bored.

"I'll tell you one day," I said, purely to be dramatic. I had to keep her interested in me, I knew she didn't actually want an answer, and I don't want her to know the reason.

She rolled her eyes. "How does it feel? When did you start?"

"Satisfying to an extent," I muttered.

"So you don't feel remorse for those you've killed?"

"I don't know." Of course I don't, they're nothing more than a project.

"You don't know a lot of things," she said, rolling her eyes again.

She's one to talk. I haven't met anyone as oblivious as Elizabeth. She's got so many eyes on her at all times, yet she never notices—more like she doesn't acknowledge them. The only person I've ever seen her talk to twice outside of drama club is Bella, and I've yet to figure out why.

"Can I help?" she asked.

"Help with what?"

"Killing, obviously." She rolled her eyes.

"By the way, what's your name?"

I stared at her, stunned. Did she just—ask for my name? Elizabeth? What do I do? Do I tell her or not? Would she remember it? Do I even care if she does? Am I going to pretend she didn't just ask me to if she could help?

Who cares, I'm so hap—wait. Happy? That's new.

"Are you going to tell me or not?"

"Dante," I blurted out.

"That's such a hot name," she said, completely casual. My face heated up before I could stop it. I forced myself to look away, pretending the dim lighting was the reason.

"My name's Elizabeth." She extended her hand for a handshake. As if I didn't already know her name. I knew everything about her. The way she always pushed her glasses up, how she has to keep her hands occupied.—every little thing she did got stuck in my head like a song I couldn't turn off.

I also knew her father was dead, her mom was a nurse, and she was ridiculously smart despite never paying attention in class. I know her only friend is Bella and she has ADHD. She's in the drama club, and she goes to therapy.

She raised a brow. "You ain't gonna shake my hand?"

I hurriedly wiped my hand on my pants before shaking hers.

"So, back to me helping you." She started to braid her hair—another her one of her habits.

"Do you have a grudge against someone?" I highly doubt she did, but why else would she ask me this?

"Nope." She took a sip of her drink, bending her head down to do so, her lips touch the straw while she held onto her braid.

It was enchanting, how her lips wrap around the straw, leaving behind a tint of her lipgloss. Oh so captivating.

"Then why?" I asked, why the hell would she want to taint her perfectly manicure nails and hands.

"Why do I need a reason? I'm bored, and it sounds fun." Of course it's boredom, Elizabeth has ADHD pills that she never takes.

"Killing people sounds fun?"

"You do it. Why are you being so judgy?"

"Because I don't want you to turn into a criminal." Getting caught, if I ever do is also part of my plan, but not Elizabeth.

"You make it sound like you like me. Do you like me?" My brain short-circuited. I should've said no immediately, but my mouth didn't work. My heart was suddenly too loud. Too obvious. Too annoying.

Sure, she's interesting but like.

Elizabeth pushed her honey-blonde hair behind her ear, making me blush for absolutely no damn reason.

"I don't. And you dragged me out of class." Why the hell did I say that, what does skipping have to do with anything? I mean I do like her—out of curiosity—and I know everything about her cause I think she's interesting, what other reason would I have to know everything about her?

"You're right, my bad. Sorry about that. I'll be taking my leave now. See you around school." She pulled out some cash for her drink, slapped it on the table, and left

Just like that. Gone. She always leaves before I can figure her out.