!! This entry contains brief themes of violence, murder, and suicide. Please proceed with caution.
— This entry is part of a larger work centering around two characters, Alexandria "Xan" Knight and James Fisher. They are serial killers.
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"What happens when it's over?" James had asked out of the blue one quiet evening.
For a moment, she'd said nothing.
It wasn't as if she'd never considered the question. Xan was intimately familiar with the concept of expiration dates—she'd never expected to make it past high school, after all. She'd lain awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering "What happens when I get caught?"
Xan had shrugged. "Then it's over."
Success over fame. That was her motto. It'd kept her safe for years, that cardinal rule. Don't get greedy. Don't want too much. Stay quiet and undetected and unfulfilled and safe. That rule had worked.
Until James Fisher.
She could've laughed. Then it's over. A circular reply that conveyed nothing. Much like the morning after she threw her brother's body in the river: that calm peace entirely shattered by the knock of a police officer at her door; the real world crashing into her fantasies, ripping them to shreds.
It's over when it's over.
Sirens blared outside.
Xan reached for the gun beneath her pillow. It contained only one bullet. Poor planning on her part, but she'd never expected this. Never expected him.
James was in the kitchen. If Xan knew him—and she did—then he'd be standing still. To anyone else, he would look calm, but she knew better. He'd be counting breaths; retreating into the still depths of his own mind where no one and nothing could reach him.
Xan stared at the gun for what felt like an eternity, deliberating although the outcome seemed obvious. With a click, she slid the safety off, then on, then off again, as she prepared to do the first selfless thing in her life.
She stood up, and walked toward the kitchen.
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