Slaying the Holidays: A Dark Rom Com

by Beatrix Hollow

“I don’t think you’re supposed to hide leftovers in your pocket,”

our corpse chauffeur for our fucked up conversation.

“You told me to get a hobby,”

“I did not mean murder,”

Sex and violence make for a lethal combination of tension.

“This is an accident,” he says. I look at the garrotte again. “No, not the murder. You being here. Were you on a date with this guy?” He asks.

Soren kisses the corpse. I can’t take my eyes away. It’s the most disturbing thing I’ve ever witnessed. Soren groans a little, then pops his eyes open and winks at me.

Definitely a psychopath.

fucking knew it. I’m not out of my mind with paranoia.

I look in the backseat and see Soren has buckled in the dead body, too. Lord forbid he gets a head wound in a collision.

The corpse kissing was shocking, but the hand-in-hand Christmas tree shopping takes the prize for disorientation.

A murderer is pulling me through rows of trees while his victim is growing cold in the car.

This wouldn’t be the worst place to die. Obviously, I don’t want to, but I like to prepare mentally for the worst.

No one should look that normal and upbeat when, not even an hour ago, they murdered someone in a parking lot.

“Doctor Moore, I’m going to have to insist that you marry me.”

I’d rather be killed.

He knows I’m obsessed and plans to use it against me.

I could handle a bad date and a murder, apparently. But being proposed to while my perversion is revealed? Too much. God, please pick another soldier; this one has had enough battles for one night.

Does he really think having sex with me will convince me not to tattle that he murdered someone?

“So then, you agree to my terms? No cops, no FBI. You will need to marry me.”

“Do I have to do that part?”

“That part is not negotiable. As well ...

“This is kidnapping with m...

I’ve made a killer look uncomfortable.

“Wait here. I’ll give you a ride home. I know where it is, so don’t worry about that.” He closes the door, and I’m left sitting there with that vague threat hanging over my head. Not stalking me, my ass.

never thought I’d be happy a killer kidnapped me from my date.

Intelligent, well-functioning psychopaths are a fixation I’ll never shake.

He’s not just a murderer. Soren Erikson is a serial killer in the making. One I half-created. Fuck me, I’m a serial killer’s therapist.

“So you want to watch?”

I’m not a BBC cameraman watching a lion eat a gazelle.

Loneliness makes a person do strange things.

I glare at one of the fathers standing in line with their kid. He’s been ogling her.

loneliness made me do something weird: convince my therapist to marry me.

Despite having more blood on the floor than inside his body, Dick scrambles down the hall towards the doors.

This is a lot more fun than the last kill. Everyone should drag their therapist along for murders.

“Well, if he wasn’t before, he is now.”

With a sidekick in tow, I feel more inspired than ever to keep killing.

“Doctor Moore,” he chides. “I’m working on myself. You should be pleased. Your advice works beautifully.”

Now, excuse me, but the murder weapon is melting all over my glove.”

“I really want to murder the man upstairs.”

“Lucky for him, my therapist gives amazing blowjobs,”

I never thought my career would lead me here. Giving a serial killer a blowjob in a potential victim's house.

I’m still horrifyingly turned on.

I won’t fuck him. I need control in this situation and control means we aren’t fucking.

We were bonding as only a serial killer and his therapist could. We had a good thing going.

Then I stuck my cock in her mouth. Well, really, she stuck her mouth on my cock.

Working up the courage to tell your serial killer you’ll suck him off is surprisingly difficult.

“Well… I’m going out,” he says before I ask. “To kill someone if that wasn’t clear.”

“Here I go!” He calls out. “Off to kill someone.”

“Wow, if only someone could stop me,”