She edged slowly from the blood soaked shadows, staggering almost drunkenly into the moonlight bathed clearing. In the pale glow of the cold moon she stood, swaying slightly, blood running like tears down her once pretty face. Blood poured down her legs and arms, a torrent that pooled at her feet while she bled. She crumpled to the ground like a broken doll; she lay drowning in her own blood, despairing to the darkness. The moon caught her face, unrecognisable now, slashed and bruised. She felt no pain. She had suffered immensely at the start of the attack as they tore her flesh apart with rusted blades, but she soon became numb, delirious in shock, but free from physical pain. She rocked herself as she cried silently on the soft mossy carpet. She had never felt this alone. She didn't want to die alone. She didn't want to die. She didn't fear death as much as she feared being found like this. She worried what people would think about her. She had been a good girl; good girls weren't found like this, raped, slashed and dead, abandoned in lonely woodland.

Good girls don't die.

She walked down the corridor, unaware every step she took was being watched, scrutinized. She had a nice smile, long silky hair the colour of honey. Her eyes shimmered like sapphires, intense and enchanting. She caught everyone's attention, and they observed her. She was perfect, an un-touched beauty, but they knew different. She was a good girl, but for one night, she had been a bad girl. A very bad girl, and now it grew inside her, feeding off her like a parasite. She walked confidently. They pictured her paying for her sins, carved from the inside out to prove her false purity. They wanted to make her realise she couldn't do that and expect life to go on like nothing had happened.

Good girls die young.

They raised the blades to the light to look at them, blunt and rusted. A sharp blade would be too easy, too kind. They didn't deserve clean metal to touch their skins; good girls didn't get that privilege. From the back of the room, Adam stepped forward, an unpleasant smile fixed to his face. He was still lapping up the last night's victim. Her fear had excited him, more than he ever expected. He had enjoyed watching her die, die a whore like she had been in life. In life she had hidden it. In death it would be plain for the world to see. He tapped Michael on the shoulder and looked at the weapon he was toying with, an old axe they had found in someone's shed. It looked like it would be fun to play with. "Ready for tonight?" Adam asked while tossing his selection of weapons into their kit bag. Michael nodded, still intent on his axe. Adam's grin widened. Tonight promised to be a lot of fun.

Good boys kill without remorse.

She looked at the scrap of paper she had found in her book: 'Meet me by the woods at 9pm. An admirer xxx'. She wasn't short of admirers, but this one was unusual, and she was curious. She picked her clothes carefully. Had to look good for an admirer, no kicking about in ripped jeans and washed out t-shirts. She slid herself into stylish, nicely cut trousers and a silk blouse before pulling her boots on and hiking the half-mile. On her journey to the woods, she imagined what her admirer would be like. She had always been a romantic. Tall, dark and handsome was her fantasy. A wholesome fantasy for a wholesome girl.

Curiosity killed the cat.

They stalked her movements to the dark overhang of the forest entrance, tracking her under a cloak of shadows. She glanced about nervously; she felt the first inkling of danger. He whispered her name as he approached her, gently, sensually. She twitched, shivers trailing down her spine as they walked across her grave. His movements were of feline grace as he closed the gap between them. His fingers danced lightly across her back as he slipped in front of her. She gasped at his sudden appearance, and then blinked as she saw who it was. Her mouth opened; ready to scream, but stopped as his partner secured a gag tightly across her mouth. Her eyes widened in fear as they dragged her deeper into the woods. The hard part was over. Now they could have their fun.

Good boys enjoy the kill.

He straddled her pinning her to the damp earth. Her eyes rolled wildly and small noises escaped from the back of her throat. She watched as they laid their weapons around her, with almost ritualistic precision. "Knock her out?" a voice asked from the shadows. Adam glanced at her. "I think she deserves to be awake for this. Get the rope, she'll struggle too much". Michael threw the coil of rope to him and watched as he bound her tightly. His eyes glittered with excitement. Now she looked beautiful. Stripped of all her beauty aids and nice clothes; hogtied and terrified, that always made them beautiful. Adam crawled back off her to admire his work. He pulled her trousers and underwear down roughly and glanced at Michael. " Ever fancied necrophilia?"

Death is beautiful.

They slashed her like experts, tarnishing her once perfect beauty, disfigured for life, but with death so close, life had no meaning anymore. Adam drew a long slim blade from the bag and admired it; he waved it in front of her, letting her see it before she felt it. Michael looked away even he couldn't face this. Adam took it slowly; spreading her legs he pushed the knife gently into her, a small rivulet of blood trickled down her inner thigh, she bucked violently as the pain hit, he forced the knife in to its hilt and watched as her eyes glazed over, her life slowly draining away behind them. He twisted the knife inside her; blood flooded down her thighs in a steady stream, pushing it further he twisted it and felt flesh tearing on the inside, her body shuddered and he couldn't contain himself anymore. Wrenching his jeans open, he plunged into her, thrusting against her nearly dead body, coated in her blood, he found himself excited more than he had ever been before. Michael watched silently, as she died with Adam inside her.

Death heightens excitement.

He sat back in the old, overstuffed chair with the morning paper spread over his knees, he swore to himself, shaking his head angrily, "Michael!" he shouted, "Come read this". He heard the thud-thud-thud of Michael bouncing down the stairs, he was altogether too happy for such a twisted boy. Michael appeared beside him and Adam pointed a long, thin finger at the headline, which screamed 'TWO LOCAL GIRLS FOUND MURDERED'. Michael shrugged, "I told you they'd get found if we didn't bury them like the ones before". Adam nodded, "Guess we just need to up the tempo a bit".

Challenge yourself.

They stood at the school gates, bags hanging loosely by their sides. The security at the school was tight, or it was supposed to be. Every movement outside the buildings logged by CC TV cameras, electronic doors guarded the pupils inside, Adam laughed, a laugh that seemed filled with thoughts of cruelty, kicking the door to the common room open he flashed a smile and walked in. Everything was planned, every detail, down to their deaths, if it came to that, but for now, they waited. Then the fun would start.

Security is a false concept.

The bell rang signalling the start of second period, synchronised down to their movements they collected their bags and walked to girls' toilets, inside they could hear the giggling of girls bunking off Physical Education, shallow girls. Good girls. They opened the doors quietly and walked in, Adam surveyed the area quickly, four girls, he motioned to Michael and they flew into action, they sunk a blade into the throat of the first girl they each grabbed then grasped the other girl round the mouth, holding her body close to theirs, they held their mouth and nose until they blacked out. Adam glanced around and nodded in approval. Dragged by their heels, they put the girls into a cubicle each, leaving the dead girls; they went to the knocked out ones.

Nobody should die a virgin.

Adam stroked the cheek of the young brunette that sat beneath him; he tore her clothes off with fevered urgency, climbing inside her, he gave gentle, even thrusts, his body filling with orgiastic pleasures. Slowly, she began to come round, her eyes showing her confusion, and her fear, he clasped his hand over her mouth and whispered into her ear, "I hate you, I hate what you are, what you will become. What you stand for. You are nothing but a whore, empty, meaningless whore, I'm saving you from a fate worse than death". Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small knife. He flashed a smile at her, still moving with her body, he slit her throat with expert ease, spilling forth inside her, the height of his excitement increased by her passing.

Hatred should be nurtured, enjoyed.

He zipped his jeans back up, and coughed as he exited the cubicle. Michael appeared simultaneously and they grinned at each other. Silently they went about their art, Adam took nails and a hammer from his bag and they entered the first cubicle, stripping the girl, they slashed her bare flesh with archaic symbols, Michael carefully lifted her onto cistern. He raised her hands one at a time and held them against the tiles. Taking a rusted nail from the small bag, he lined it up with her hand and hammered it through. The tiles cracked and fell from the walls as they crucified her against the pristine white. Her head slumped to the side, as if she were watching her blood trickle away through the drains. They stood back and admired her, tilting his head slightly Adam tried to think how to complete the picture. He lifted the bloodied knife that lay in a pool of blood on the floor, pushing her thighs apart he rammed the knife inside her and twisted the hilt. Michael made a small noise of appreciation at his side, "Now, THAT is art" he murmured. They repeated their art down the line of cubicles, closing each door behind them, a little piece of horror saved for whoever dared to look in. Michael traced his finger through some of the blood and wrote in a shaky scrawl across the four doors 'OUT OF ORDER'. Adam chuckled and with a quick glance behind them, they exited out to the corridor.

Death is a fine art.

They left a trail of bloodied footprints down the corridor; high on sex and death they yearned for more. It was only a matter of time before they were caught, but this would end on their terms. Their cause lost, bloodlust overwhelmed them. From the other end of the corridor, a teacher walked towards them, a selection of books clutched to her chest, she gaped in shock at them. Slicked with blood and other fluids, they walked tall and sure. She turned to run as they descended on her, Adam motioned Michael to open the store cupboard and they piled inside. Pausing for a breath they gazed at the teacher who whimpered through Adam's hand. "I never liked you", Michael whispered to her, tracing the edge of his blade down the line of her jaw. As he pushed the blade under her ribs a siren sounded all over the school. "Quickly Michael, the sand is trickling out now". Michael nodded, twisting the blade, he withdrew it then stabbed her repeatedly in the chest, leaning down to kiss the blood that blossomed through her shirt he hissed "I hate you so much, I can't even bear to fuck you". He pulled the blade out one last time and shoved it through her throat. Adam gave a small applause, "Now, we move onto round two".

Time is always your greatest enemy.

In the storeroom, they looked at each other, their eyes only for each other. Without losing eye contact, they moved closer, arms entwining as they drew themselves together. Adam placed his mouth on the pulse of Michael's throat and kissed it gently; kissing softly he moved slowly up his neck and brushed against his lips. They pressed their lips together, mouths parting as their tongues slipped out to explore. Michael's body shuddered with pleasure and Adam pulled back. They smiled at each other, smiles that were neither wicked nor cruel. A smile that held only love for the other, for this moment, they were the good boys.

Society rejects love.

The moment passed, and they parted ways. Each taking a variety of weapons for the job at hand, they ran lightly down the corridor, the siren still wailing in the background. Security was a joke. Each class held where they were until the situation had been amended. He kicked the door of the nearest classroom open and raced into the room, pitching the axe into the pretty blonde teacher's chest, he knocked her aside and turned to face the room. Row upon row of innocent faces stared back terrified at him. He climbed onto the desk. "I could let you live, you know. You're all good boys and girls, aren't you?" a sea of pale faces nodded back at him, "But oneday, you won't be good. You'll do something bad. Bad things have to be punished. I could end it now! I could save you, do you want me to save you?" A girl started sobbing, they didn't know how to answer. "I could save you all, save you all from this life" Sobs began to echo out all over the room. He dropped off the desk and grabbed a pretty young blonde girl who sat in front of him. He raised his blade to her throat and stopped as he heard the heavy thud-thud-thud of people heading this way down the corridor. He glanced at her; slamming the blade upwards he dropped her and left her to bleed to death on the cheap, rough carpet.

Death is not a saviour.

They met again in the school's main hall; evading capture at all turns had left them both exhilarated. Flushed, they stared at each other silently, knives hanging loosely in their grasps. The colour slowly began to drain from Michael's face as he watched Adam approach him with the knife angled to bring him to his death in a single blow to his jugular, "I don't want to die," he whimpered. Adam paused and looked at him strangely before sinking the knife into him. What he wanted didn't come into this, there were no other options left. Michael gasped before falling to the ground; Adam let himself drop to the ground beside him, tears burning like acid in his eyes. He'd killed many people, but he had truly loved Michael, and to end his life hurt him like salt in an open, infected wound. He tugged the knife from his lover's throat.

You don't always get what you want.

He heard their advance before they shouted through the loudspeakers. " Drop your weapons! Lie down and put your hands on the back of your head". Adam ignored it; he sat, broken hearted next to the corpse of the only person he had ever loved. He looked at the knife, the blood of many victims coated to it, he glanced back at the door where they waited then sighed. In all honesty, he didn't want to die either. He tossed the knife aside and lay on the floor with his hands on the back of his head, he mused to himself that he could suicide anytime, but for now, he didn't want to die.

Death is seductive…

…. But only unto others.

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