The Beginning

Everyone had heard of him. The cupcake fiend. He was known across Europe now as the man who would reign men, women, and even children into his arms with the promise of sweets. Or at least that's what the citizens have come to believe. For with each body, there is always icing. Somewhere...unpleasant, I've heard.

Lately it has been rumored that the cupcake fiend has found his way into the states, although it seems that its become more of a joke than a threat. "Oh, did you hear about the cupcake queen? I hear he's rather kinky with icing!" Snicker. "I've heard that he's allergic to lube. So, I suppose the icing had to do." Chuckle.

No one ever thought that the cupcake fiend would hit so many people. In the past three days I've heard that he's already slaughtered, beaten, raped, and tortured twenty seven people.

Twenty seven families altered forever.

Not really hard to assume why the media has dubbed him a fiend, huh?

But I wonder how true the myths are. If there really is just one man out there ravaging, and killing people city by city. Bringing about sweet treats, and icing whereever he may be. Where his feet land, he's sure to kill. Another little "joke" many have come to find humorous. For some reason or another.

Me, I've come to believe all the rumors to be true. If only for the fact that I keep receiving cupcakes on my porch. All beautiful, but smelling of something definitely off. I've contacted the police several times, raided the police station as well. But they just believe it's some far off admirer. Nothing to really concern myself with.

Well, I'm concered. And this "admirer" is very well far off. Far off gone in the head if you ask me.

The Middle

You've noticed that your stalker has been leaving you more "presents" as of late.

Whoever it is, they do not bring the gifts often enough to be deemed suspicious by anyone else but yourself, but you'd say once a year is far too much. Especially considering that you've been moving constantly over these last five.

Trying to find a safe place, although by now you've noticed there may be no safe place anymore.

He keeps finding you, sending you gifts both strange and sweet.

A strange bittersweet, you suppose.

Cupcakes that you've never eaten but are decorated sweetly and have obviously been made with a lot of care. Notes, all filled with promises of sweet nothings and sweet everythings. Exotic flowers that you've never known to exist. Oh, and you could never forget the chocolates. Although you've never eaten one, you're sure that they would taste absolutely delicious. At least that's what the smell makes you believe anyway.

If it wasn't for the silence. Perhaps you would just meet this stalker, this gentleman of some sort. But, no. It's much too dangerous now for you to take such a chance.

After all, the cupcake fiend still hasn't been captured. Hell, it's been five years since the fiend had left his last mark on society. And that mark just had to be your neighbor, now didn't it?

The police found her in a state of terror. Alive but shaken. Mute yet not. They say that the emotional toil was too much on her, so they had to ship her to an anonymous mental institution. Most believe that it was the gauging of her eyes that did it, others say it was the knife left in her genitals, and the rest just think that the mere fact that she saw the devil was enough to send anyone over the ledge.

You've heard she's dead now. Good for her.

At night you dream about the fiend. What it might look like, how it might talk, why it must feed among the lives of so many, and if it has been following you aimlessly these last five years? If not, then why does it feel like it has? You've imagined that it would laugh at this question as it slowly tore your skin off. Bit by bit. Drip by drip.

But, monsters never show their true faces, right? It'd probably lie and tell you that it had. Even if it hadn't. And that it loved you, when it obviously didn't.

You kept this up, this little mindfuck on yourself, for far too long. So it shouldn't have been so surprising when an old friend from elementary had been so insistent that you meet her new co-worker. Telling you all about this man that would be "perfect" for you. If perfection could ever be mantained in a relationship, that is.

A man that seemed "Nice enough", she said.

When had it become so obvious to believe that you were desperate?

You were. The loneliness inside you was about to eat you alive afterall.

But how the hell did she know?

You met him a few days later on a very awkward blind date. He seemed, "nice enough", but he was far into his delusions of heroism to be anymore than just this.

Or so you thought...

The End

She had looked both ways before she had crossed. It was something her mother had drilled into her head as they crossed the dangerous streets of New York. It was important, it was vital, it was one of the only moments she can remember of her mother actually caring about her.

So it was hard to believe that a car had struck her. Frantically zooming by, just in time to catch her while she was right in the middle of the lane.

Nothing to see here, people, nothing at all.

At least that's what one might say if anyone else were there to see. Living in the middle of nowhere was not a good life decision for her in this moment.

Good thing she was unconscious throughout all of this, or else she may have screamed from the paralyzing agony her body was currently going through.

Broken leg, busted ribs, possibly a torn lung, and so much more.

Maybe it would have made her even more terrified if she had known that the driver of the vehicle had forced her to drink from a clear vial in her unconscious state. That he had placed her among a mountain of blankets and pillows that covered the backseat of his vehicle entirely. That instead of having a look of regret, there was only a sickening happiness.

The Hero, he would have you call him soon, was here to the rescue afterall.