Carter reached into the trashcan, searching for food. He didn't care what it tasted like or what condition it was in; he just wanted something to ease the empty throbbing in his stomach. His whole body was racked with pain; he wanted at least one part of his body not to hurt. He was standing under a graffiti-covered bridge while the rain hammered outside.
While he didn't make a smile or even a grunt, he was relieved to find a half-eaten hotdog. He walked outside and sat on a bench, gorging himself on the ratty food. He leaned back, letting the rain wash away the dark bloodstains in his clothes.
Carter was in his early twenties, had medium-length matted hair, and a shady beginning of a beard from days of not shaving. He had a sickly complexion and sunken bloodshot eyes. His build was more muscle than fat, but that was due mostly to how little he ate.
Carter was a man between life and death, with his body leaning towards the latter and his soul so hollow that it might as well be the same. His mind was even less healthy, and his actions in the past would prove that, along with the actions of the near future.
His life had been a tragedy, marked by disease and death. Little could be said about his personality, there was very little to describe. His emotions were gone, he had no tastes in music or art, and a path down memory lane didn't exactly bring up any happy stories.
The person formerly known as Carter Locke was gone, his identity was gone, and pain and insanity had taken everything away. All that was left was agony, it was all he felt and it was his identity. Pain was all that remained of what was left of his life, and soon more people would feel his pain.
Eleanor Rose was sitting in her dorm room, watching the news on TV. Her eyes were filled with fear and her hands were over her mouth. The story of the evening was a very grim one; another campus massacre had taken place, the fifth in a brutal chain. The story was the same in each case; a stranger enters a campus house party, pulls out some sort of machete-like weapon, and begins slaughtering everyone. Over a hundred people had been killed so far, with the killer still on the loose.
Eleanor was nineteen and was in both the prime of her youth and beauty. She had pale skin that looked like marble, bright blue eyes that seemed to glow, and long straight hair that was darker than granite. She was also gifted with the figure of a ballerina, but with a fuller chest. Regardless of her physical beauty, she always hid her body with very bland or dark clothes and multiple layers whenever possible.
Eleanor had always been a shy girl, always lonely but wanting to be alone, brought on by life with parents that couldn't care less. The only reason why she was in college was because she managed to get a scholarship. She considered herself lucky that alcohol didn't run through her family, or abuse would have occupied most of her life; physical, psychological, and even sexual.
She had very few friends, and even fewer close friends. She had spent her middle and high school years wishing she could join a clique, but was never happy when she tried or was even in one. She had never been in love, never been where she felt she belonged, never gotten involved in anything, and never even been happy.
The door suddenly opened and her roommate Anna stepped in. The blond beauty had a heart that was the same shade as her hair, but she also had a pussy stretched by over a dozen frat boys. Ever since the two had met, Anna had taken it upon herself to pull Eleanor out of her shell.
"What are you doing? There is a party down the road with your name on it!" She said with excitement, checking her hair in the mirror for the umpteenth time.
"I'm not going." Eleanor muttered.
"What, are you listening to those media horror stories? Come on, there is no chance of that maniac heading our way. Listen, you make excuses every time. If you go out now, your curse will be lifted!" Her friend pleaded, trying to pull her off her bed.
"Listen, I just don't want to go. That killer out there should be reason enough." Eleanor replied, getting off the bed and walking away.
"Well what are you going to do? Sit in the dark and feel bad for yourself? You're always saying that you wish you had someone to talk to, well how are you supposed to find someone like that if you always choose to be alone?" Anna asked in frustration. Eleanor was silent.
"Listen, just come this time, try and talk to people, and if you aren't happy after ten minutes, we'll both come back." Anna finally offered.
"Ok." Eleanor said softly.
"Come on honey, you REALLY need a drink." Anna said with a smile as she pulled Eleanor out into the hall. As Eleanor followed her unwanted life coach to the stairwell, she tugged on her sleeves, making sure that the scars on her wrists were covered.
Loud music bounced off the walls of the house and was quickly distorted by the conversations of the drunken college kids. Eleanor stood by the staircase, desperate to have someone to talk too, but too shy and nervous to actually say something to someone. Across the room, Anna was flirting with a buzzed football player.
Carter was standing across the street from the house, nearly invisible with his body hidden behind a small tree.
'Kill them all.' A voice hissed in his mind.
'Slaughter them.' Another voice ordered.
"I know." Carter muttered.
'Make them pay.' A third voice said.
"Shut up, just shut up." Carter swore, trying to keep his voice down.
'They all deserve to die!' The first voice roared. While the sound was all in his head, he instinctively tried to cover his ears and block it out.
