I'm always a little paranoid after it happens.

I just sit here at home. Staring at my laptop screen as I lightly bite my lip. There are constantly little thoughts fluttering through my head. Little thoughts wondering, what if? What if I left a finger print by accident when I touched that wall? Or what if I moved a picture out of place when I dragged him into the bedroom?

What if, id left enough evidence for them to catch me?

But of course I hadn't. I was just over thinking this way too much and being a little paranoid. Even though my head is fuzzy with nerves and my stomach churns, I still smirk softly to myself. My stomach is flipping over itself as I think about the fear in his eyes when I slowly dragged that knife down his arm. Up his leg. Down his chest and stomach, stopping to draw little patterns into his paper thin skin. And most importantly

Right into his heart.

I feel sick as I picture the blood oozing out of his body. Yet the sickening smile I'm wearing doesn't leave. I place my hand over my mouth and make a dash to the bathroom, falling to my knees as I watch yesterdays lunch pour out of my mouth with a splash. At this point, I should be disgusted and shiver in revolt.

Yet I'm still smiling.

I had done it. Id killed him. It never felt like that much of a big deal at the time. But a few days after, that's when the feeling hits. When they find the body and report it on the news. 'Another brave man lost his life' that phrase alone sends a wonderful shiver down my back.

I sometimes wonder if I'm not normal. I mean, normal people don't kill for pleasure. But I'm just as normal as the next guy. There are just a lot of people who don't deserve to live and I help them with that. There's just something about watching the light fade from a mans eyes as blood soaks his clothes and pools around him on the carpet beneath him. It just makes me feel so alive. Like I'm invincible.

It's not like I target people I don't know. I know them all. Well, I've at least bumped into them at some point. My last victim was a young guy who had no manners. It was as simple as that. He was shouting abuse at some gay couple so I followed him back to his apartment and watched him carefully. All he did in his pathetic little life was watch some stupid TV show and call his friends to brag about how many girls he'd 'shagged' that week. He deserved to die. I know he did.

I grab a small towel that's sitting on the side of the bath tub and wipe my mouth with it. The smile has finally fallen and as I get up to walk away but catch my reflection in the mirror. Dark hair falling over my face with equally dark circles under my deep blue eyes. I move my hair, running a hand through it and smirking yet again as my reflection looks back.

There's a strange feeling that washes over me as I flop down onto my bed. The ceiling, which is normally the most interesting thing in the room and fuels my insomnia, just as much as the thoughts in my head do. The ceiling seems boring today. So my eyes wonder, so does my mind. I'm over thinking everything again. Going through every little step to cheek I hadn't missed anything. And that's when that feeling turns into a feeling dread. My throat dries up as the thought of getting caught crosses my mind. The thought of the authorities knowing Phil Lester isn't just a twenty-six year old man living on his own in a one bedroom flat in London.

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Luckily for me the door was open and moves when I press down the handle. I'm wearing gloves, of course. I know from studying a little criminology about the whole how finger prints thing works. Anyone on the crime scene mustn't step on an uncovered area or touch anything that could be used as evidence without gloves and blah blah blah. The fact I know their rules and regulations always helps me to cover up any evidence. Id only ever returned to the crime scene once or twice in the early days when I made mistakes frequently. So I didn't have any reason to be here, yet. There was just this feeling id forgotten something.

I carefully close the door behind me, looking around the room. It really did look like just how id left it. I knew soon the forensics would be here so Id have to hurry up . I walk though all the places I had been in the small flat. I wipe a few places I had accidentally touched and made sure everything looked in place. I was about to leave when the sudden urge to see the body coursed through my veins. I turn and slowly make my way to the room, noticing the door is already open slightly.

They had only found the body yesterday and since the forensics hadn't been yet. That meant the Sherlock Holmes of this case wouldn't have arrived yet. There always seems to be a private detective or someone weird like that snooping around crime scenes. It's kinda creepy actually. Then again, I am also creeping around a dead body. I push open the door and slip inside to see a white sheet spread over the shape I know is that idiot. I have to stop a small laugh escaping my lips as the smirk returns once again. Just peeling back that fabric and seeing his dull eyes staring back at me made my grin widen. I had justice, power and no one had any idea I could have done this.

It felt amazing.

There was no place id rather be right now than looking down at his stupid, ugly face. I had done a good thing. He was scum to the word and I had exterminated him like the vermin he was. And it is only as I stare down at the man's expression that I hear the front door quietly click open.

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*Dan's POV*

I sigh softly to myself as I open to door to the small flat. Another day, another murder. It's always the same in my line of work. You see, my mum and dad wanted me to be something important and who earned lots of money, like a lawyer. But here I am at another crime scene as a private detective. It's good enough pay. I mean, it's London. People are forever getting murdered and family's want justice. So I get hired and paid a good amount of money quite often. Although most cases are incredibly easy to crack since they're basically all drug dealers or alcoholics.

Although most of them I can solve within a day or so, there are those few which I've had to give up on. That hasn't happened for a while though. The last case I had to give up on was in about February. There was a murder committed in the victims house, but unlike an amateur there were no finger prints. I spent days on end in that house looking or clues that would have been left behind. But there was absolutely nothing. After I picked up what was left of my shattered confidence. I sincerely apologized to the family and closed the case.

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of these negative thoughts. This was a completely new case and from what information I had gathered it should be fairly easy. A young guy living on his own in the bad side of town. High school drop out who's been caught stealing a few times. Possibly involved in gang crime. Very aggressive. I would guess from that information that some guys had had enough of him and just went for it.

As I made my way into the room with the body, something seemed off. I can't exactly describe it but. I don't know. Maybe it was just because I was around a dead person. I mean that is pretty creepy and could unsettle anyone. I crouched down and carefully pulled back the white sheet. He had several wounds covering his body. He had a long scratch from his shoulder right down to his wrist on his right arm. He had a similar mark from his ankle to his upper thigh on his left leg. His chest and stomach wounds were what worried me the most. He had these little sort of patterns carved into his skin on his lower stomach. And finally, a huge hole which was definitely a stab wound exactly where his heart was. The guy who did this must have got lucky to hit it completely head on like that. Considering the size of the wound, id say the knife would have been drawn back three or four times.

My mind was exploding with all these thoughts when I heard a small sound of movement from beside me. I looked to my right, only seeing a bed and a small nightstand. At first I brushed it off as a cat or something like that and stood up to go inspect the rest of the room. But then I realized.

He didn't have any pets.

"..Hello?…is anyone there?" I asked softly, backing towards the wardrobe where I know I saw a bit of lose metal off something I could use as a weapon. I heard a scuffling sound from under the bed and carefully wrapped my hand around the metal pole, keeping my eyes glued to the spot. What I saw however, was not what I expected.

"…Hi…"