It’s dark and she’s walking. She does this every night, walk the short distance from her tiny apartment to the diner. To a stranger, she’s just another human taking a stroll with her hands in her hoodie pockets. She loves the night, at least she used to. She would sneak out with her sister after dark and they would run to the small garden behind their house to play. Sometimes when the moon was bright, they would lose track of time till their mother found them. But everything changed when her sister went missing.
She shakes her head to clear the memory. She hates remembering. The diner is her second home now.
Three months ago, it was a bar at the other side town. The bartender had caught her attention and made her stay. She likes them petite and brown-haired. She was a cheerful one, the bartender, her behind swaying in rhythm as she shifted tables. She was perfect. But one morning, she was found in the pool of her own blood. She was cut open and left to bleed out after they took from her. She knew it was time to move on.
The diner is still open. Most of the people would be gone by now. This is the right time. She likes the quietude. She closes her fingers round the pen knife in her pocket as she continues to walk. The pretty waitress has been batting her eyelashes at her all week. She knows when one fits and this one does. She has recognised it the first she stepped foot in there. Tonight, the waitress breathes her last. She’s sorry it has to happen but she needs to take care of them. They are all so vulnerable, just like her sister. One more and she's done, or not.