The Principle of Evil: A Fast-Paced Serial Killer Thriller

A conscience is overrated.

As her leg kicked out again, she caught him in the thigh. He stifled a groan, but remained focused. He grabbed her leg, pulling hard, knocking her off balance.

Her body crashed to the floor, collapsing in a heap at his feet. Before she could react, he was down on her, grasping her in a headlock with one arm. With his other hand he gripped the scissors in his sweaty palm, and weighted her body down with his own.

He released her head, pried open her mouth and pulled at her tongue.

She gagged, spluttered, but he maintained his grip, forcing the scissor blades either side of the thrashing muscle.

She froze.

She felt the metal edges scrape her soft flesh. She whimpered, helpless.

‘Hold your tongue or lose it!’

He roared so close to her ear, she thought the drum might burst. ‘Do you understand me?’ He felt her head nod. He could feel the fear radiate from her body in waves so strong, he could almost taste it.

She had to die. He knew this now, but it had changed his plans somewhat. Nola had been a mistake, but he’d learn from it.

She whimpered when he removed the scissors and released her body from under him.

She curled herself up into a ball, her back towards the wall, head tucked down with her chin resting on her chest. He saw her body shake violently as sobs overcame her. He allowed her a few moments of respite before the inevitable came.

08:32 a.m.

Rachel woke to the sound of someone banging on her front door. She bolted from the bed and ran. She flung open the front door, ignoring the cold that flooded in from outside.

‘Nola?’

‘Erm, no,’ replied Olivia, standing with a large McDonald’s paper bag under one arm. She stared at Rachel from head to toe. ‘You may wanna put more clothes on, Rach,’ she said, pushing her way over the threshold. ‘It’s like minus ten or something.’

Rachel looked down at her thin pyjama bottoms and bra, but she didn’t care. The cold was nothing compared to the inner torment she’d had to put up with all night.

‘I got us breakfast,’ Olivia said, heading towards the kitchen. She started pulling out the cardboard cartons from the paper bag. ‘I hope you’re hungry.’ She took a large bite of her burger. ‘Oh, that’s good,’ she said with her mouth full.

Rachel looked at her, despondent. ‘I thought you were Nola.’

Olivia stopped chewing, keeping her eyes trained to the floor.

‘I’ve still not heard from her.’

Finishing her mouthful, Olivia turned to face her. ‘You told Daryl yet?’

‘Have I hell,’ Rachel said, reaching for her burger. ‘He’s been calling though.’

‘What you been telling him?’

‘I’ve been avoiding answering.’

Olivia gave a mock laugh. ‘FYI, that’s not wise.’ Rachel threw her burger down on the counter and rested her face in her hands.

‘I know, I know,’ she said. ‘I’ve left him a voicemail saying she’s been with a punter for a few days, that she’d been paid up front, but I can’t keep it up much longer.’ She picked up her burger again and took a large bite. ‘He’s started leaving me nasty messages already,’ she said between mouthfuls.

‘Course he has, that’s Daryl.’ Olivia chewed the last mouthful of her Big Mac and dusted her hands together, sending crumbs to the floor. ‘Look, way I see it, Nola’s gone AWOL ’cos she don’t want to be found. You can’t force her, Rach. She knows the price she’ll pay if she runs out on Daryl – we all do.’ She placed a hand on Rachel’s shoulder.

Sadly, Rachel knew from personal experience just what he was capable of. Daryl Thomas was their pimp. He ran their lives for them, as he did with all of his girls. He took a big percentage of what they earned on the street, dictated to them what to wear, how to act, and told them who they could talk to, and what he would do if any of them tried to walk out on him.

Rachel had tried it once – a long time ago now it seemed – and she had nearly got away from him. If it hadn’t been for another girl giving her away (Rachel never did find out who), she would’ve been free of him. On that occasion it had taken seventeen stitches to put her head wound back together and another five in her split lip, followed by several trips back and forth to the hospital until her arm was fixed again after a difficult break. All things considered, she’d got off lightly, compared to what Daryl had done to others.

She watched Olivia pull out her hairbrush from her bag and run it through her long hair, and wished she could be more like her; living each day as it came, and never really worrying about anything.

Despite her slight frame, Olivia was tough and streetwise. Rachel was the opposite; her long auburn hair, with large curls, made her look younger than her twenty years. Her build was average, and she was taller than Olivia, but she wasn’t anywhere near as robust.

She was about to ask Olivia what she thought she should do about Daryl, when they both heard Nancy Boy by Placebo echoing from Rachel’s room.

They stared at each other, motionless as statues.

Rachel shrieked. ‘My phone!’

Both girls nearly fell over themselves, as they skidded across the hall and into the bedroom. Rachel’s mobile was flashing on her bedside cabinet, but the call diverted to voicemail as she picked it up. She pressed the answer button anyway.

‘Hello? Nola?’

‘You missed the call,’ Olivia sighed as she launched herself onto Rachel’s bed. ‘You should’ve kept it on you.’

‘The caller ID says unknown, it might not have been her.’

‘Probably Daryl then.’

Rachel was silent and stared at her phone, willing it to ring again. After a few minutes the phone lit up and let out a beep.

1 New Voicemail Msg

Both girls looked at each other, then the phone.

Rachel hesitated.

‘You gonna listen to that or what?’

Rachel looked at Olivia then the phone again. She swallowed hard as she pressed the button to retrieve the message. Warily, she held the mobile to her ear.

Her eyes widened as the message played out. It sounded so surreal, she didn’t even know whether to believe it or not. She remained silent and when the message finished, she felt tears pricking at the surface of her eyes, like thousands of tiny red-hot needles.

*

08:45 a.m.

Nola wailed as the man hung up her mobile and tossed it to the floor. The lid of the battery compartment came away on impact and cracked, but the phone itself seemed to be intact and working. He’d deliberately withheld the number when placing the call moments ago.