Take the girl right there on the bench.

You can’t help yourself, you’re just so damn hungry, and frankly the benches in this park are very comfortable. Besides, to walk to and from the bathroom, pee, and wash his hands would take the boyfriend at least five minutes, more if he was sitting down. Plenty of time to give the girlfriend a story she would tell for the rest of her life.

You wouldn’t need the gun you have in your jacket, as you could easily overpower her, but the boy was still nearby enough to hear her scream and come running. You go the long way around, coming from behind the bench so that you catch her by surprise as you put a gun to her temple and whisper, “If you scream, I’ll kill you.”

The bitch screams.

Frustrated, you hear footsteps coming towards you and realize the boyfriend is running back. Hitting her in the head with the butt of your gun so she sprawls on the ground, you raise your gun towards the footsteps, deciding to just shoot the guy when he blindly rushes in to save her.

Instead of the boyfriend, to your immense horror, two police officers turn the corner, guns in hands. Sheppard dogs had heard the lamb bleating.

You don’t have time to consider why police officers are at the park at night, though it does happen at times. Had it just been one of them, you might have given them the same treatment you were planning for the boyfriend, but that’s the problem with dogs: they run in packs.

You consider running for it, but know you won’t make it far. You might have taken the girl hostage, but the bitch bolts into a run, and is gone before you can grab her. Though you know you won’t make it, you run for it anyway. You’ve only taken four steps when one of the bastards tackles you down.

As they read you you’re rights, all you can wonder is if tonight, in the steel walls of jail, if you’ll still be a hunter…or a prey.

[End]