Fair warning: this work of fiction is GRAPHIC. If you're offended easily, or have a weak stomach, move along. I wrote it a year ago, and thought it could fit in here...enjoy

     Carl thought about the last girl he had raped and murdered while he stood in line for cigarettes at the gas station. The girl standing in front of him resembled her, at least her backside did. She was petite, wearing a tiny purple spaghetti strap top that failed to cover her back completely. Two dimples on the small of her back seemed to wink at Carl suggestively as she switched her weight from left foot to right, and her hips popped into a diagonal position. 
      “Pack a quality menthols…hundreds…” she murmured to the clerk behind the counter. Knowing she looked young she had her I.d. Ready, slapping it down on the counter impatiently.
       “7.85$..” the clerk announced. Carl had not for a second removed his eyes from the young girls behind.  A single bead of sweat dripped down from his forehead down his temple and finally falling to the floor. His eyes widened as he fantasized. The girl, having finished the transaction started off quickly toward the exit stopping suddenly at the door to stuff the change into her tiny purple purse hanging from her delicate shoulder. Before she had a chance to get out of earshot Carl instinctively ordered the cashier loud enough for the girl to hear.
      “Qualities…menthol…hundreds…” his voice deep and throaty. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off the girl. As she finished putting her change away she looked over her shoulder at the man who just ordered her brand of smokes too, for an instant smiling at him, as if approving of carls physical appearance. 
      Carl wasn’t a sexy man. Not altogether an ugly one either. In every way an average man. Perhaps a touch underweight from his habitual drug use, though he had a naturally muscular frame. His straight coal black hair would often obstruct his eyes from visually devouring virtually every female that crossed his path. But only when he found one that was “perfect” as he would say to himself, would he let the wolf out of his cage. You see, it was the wolf, not Carl, that enjoying raping and murdering women. It was the wolf that loved the taste of their blood, the fear in their eyes when they first realized…there was no escape. Definitely not Carl. But the wolf had noticed this spaghetti strapped strumpet waiting in line…and she was…perfect…or damned near anyway. 
     Carl accepted his smokes from the clerk and stuffed both the pack and the change into his pocket, followingt his little girl out to the parking lot. 



            There she was, standing up against a lamp post, rummaging through her tiny purse. A sickly orange glow emanated down from the post flushing hue into her normally milky white skin. Once again with great impatience she retrieved the cigarettes from her purse, and with what seemed to be all one fluid motion she ripped off the celophane opened the pack, ripped off the inner seal and removed one cigarette. She licked her lips briefly before placing the smoke between them. Carl approached the lamp post, and the little fairy girl under it as she once again started fiddling around in her purse. Never once did she raise her gaze to meet Carls. One would think she wasn’t even aware of his presence, until, from between her lips, a request.
     “You got a light honey?” Her gaze still never leaving the contents of her tiny purse.
     “Alright…” Carl retrieved a zippo with a syringe painted on the side from his right Jean pocket. He extended his arm to give it to the girl. And this the moment that he noticed…HE HAD HER!
    The girl reached out to receive his offering. Track marks on her arm started at her wrist, trailing all the way up to the top end of her bicep like a railway of bruised and scAbby flesh. Perfect indeed, Carl thought to himself….soups on!
    She took the zippo, examining the side briefly and letting out a “hmph” as if mildly entertained by the artwork on the lighter. Then with both hands she popped the top off and lit her cigarette. Inhaling long and deep. She popped the top back on to the lighter to put it out, but before handing it back she leaned against the post as if melting from the nicotine, and exhaling long and slow, the plumes of smoke flushing out in the orange light of the lamp she melted under.
   “You’re not going right?, have a smoke with me…” yet another request? That was it, the wolf was coming out. It grew impatient at carls resistance. 




      You see, Carl knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew it was…but he couldn’t help it it seemed. It was a hunger, a knawing needing hunger, it had to be satiated. Only when it grew to levels that were beyond carls control, that’s when the wolf would be released. When it would take over. 
     There was a drastic change in Carls demeanor. If the girl hadn’t been so transfixed on her purse, she might’ve actually been warned by this. Gone was his countenance of demure subservience. His feet spread shoulder width, his shoulders back, his head raised up. With one hand he snatched the lighter back, finally demanding the girls attention. At the same time with the other hand he summoned the pack of smokes from his left Jean pocket, opening them with his thumb, biting down on one in the pack and pulling it out by lowering his hand. In one quick motion he snapped his fingers at the zippo, opening the cover, another snap of his fingers, it was lit. He sucked in hard, lighting the cigarette with gusto. Slapping the zippo on his leg and stuffing it into his pocket were fused into one fluid motion. He ran his fingers through his Coal black hair, slicking it back to reveal his icey blue eyes, wide with anticipation, and locked with hers. Then he exhaled a cloud of smoke just past  the girls face. Her thin lips parted to reveal a wide smile at the confidence displayed in her companion. This is when she decided to take things further.

“So?….I noticed you got pretty good taste” she puffed and nodded at his cigarette. “ I noticed you got good taste too baby” he snapped his arm out fast to grab hers, but not forcefully. You would think with the quickness that he used to reach her, it would have been a violent touch, but he pulled her arm up to the light, exposing the wounds she had made for herself. He caressed them with a gentleness that only he knew was insincere. Their eyes still locked, and the loving touch of his hand of the tender sores covering her arm was like desperately needed medicine oozing into her sick soul from the puncture holes that graced her. At this, her eyes widened. Carl could feel her pelvis coming closer to his, and if they were magnetically charged. The large member started to swell in his jeans at the thought of tasting her blood and hearing her scream. The poor thing won’t know what hit her. “I got a place, not far from here…you wanna party tonight?” That was it. It was all over but the grilling, as Carl would sometimes say to himself.