The Roads That We Explore - 6. Cold Showers

They knew who they were to go after.

They could still remember every moment of staring at him as they killed them. They could feel him, tied to him in ways that only Victim and Murderer could be.

One such spirit was staring at him, having found him once more and settled into a corner to watch him. She was waiting for her fellow Victims to arrive. Her hand came to rest around her neck, feeling the odd way that her head was able to move.

She could remember that she had been strangled.

Two of the other Victims had been tied down and slowly cut open until they bled out as sacrifices. Three other Victims had been hung upside down and had their throats sliced so that he could gather their blood. Those three had ended up stuck, watching as he removed their heads and hands to make sure that every bit of blood that could would drip out of their bodies while hanging. She could only guess what kind of anger and anguish that had caused them having to watch it.

They had been found quickly enough by the Original Victims and brought to the rest of them after he left, disposing of their bodies. They all knew where they were buried and were just waiting to find someone who could speak with them so that they could be found and buried properly. She was one of the ten out of fifteen victims that didn’t know where their bodies were. They thought they were in the same area, but not for sure.

She had tried once to find it by going along the connection she still had with her body and all she could feel was cool, wet soil. She was almost sure that she was buried in the same area as the others though. She could feel them.

She turned back to the man as he sprawled out on the bed, his body glistening with sweat as his hand worked over his own cock, eyes glued to the porn on the TV. She sneered in disgust at the sight, wanting to do nothing more than to grasp the penis and rip it off before he shoved it down his throat.

But she hadn’t been able to. He was protected by something stronger than them, but they had already been promised that eventually he would slip up and they would be able to get their revenge. A fellow spirit, one who was old, from the time that the Native American tribes wandered America and those from other countries had set foot on the land, had been the one to promise them that. He told them that he had seen tribes who had gotten their revenge on those who had killed them.

It had not been a pretty sight, and it had been as if they had gained the Blessing of the Gods to tear apart those who had ended their lives. The man had gone back to his home that had a museum standing on the land that he had called his, watching over things while there. A few of the Victims had since gone to speak with the man themselves, coming back with more stories, comparing it to what the Originals had told them.

But for now, she was watching and waiting from her corner that they claimed as theirs once they had found the home. It was a small home and one of a dozen that he used, but it was the one that he returned to the most often. Mostly whenever he wasn’t working on killing more of them and trying to gather the power to open the door.

Sighing, the puff of breath a cold mist that floats before her face, she gagged as he grunted, spilling over his hand as the climax of the movie happened. “Disgusting,” she sneered. She was unsurprised when he bounced out of bed like he hadn’t spent the last hour working himself off. He never paid any attention to anything but himself unless he was working. Then he was meticulous in setting down protections and opening himself up to the spiritual world.

Not that they could truly do much beyond stare at him, just waiting for the moment that he fucked up.

She followed him into the bathroom and watched as he started his shower. She eyed it before floating closer, her broken neck cracking as she turned her head, finding that the idiot had a slip up. He hadn’t marked one of the walls well enough. While she wouldn’t be able to attack him personally, not with his marks and bracelets, but she could touch the pipes within the walls.

Her smirk spread over her face as she reached out, carefully making sure that she wouldn’t get stuck by touching a mark and waited until their murderer had stepped under the hot spray of water. They all knew that he hated the cold in any form and loved hot showers or baths. If he could get away with it, he didn’t take lukewarm showers or baths, even if he was staying at the home of his family. He would always find a way to make it as hot as he could stand to have it.

Waiting until he was fully relaxed under the spray, she grasped the pipe and pushed as much cold into it that she had the power to do it. It turned the water freezing cold, but she also made sure she didn’t burst the pipe while making the water cold. She may hate the man, but she didn’t hold any anger to the landlord. The lady was nice and had to deal with other things.

The screech of surprise as he tried to scramble back from the sudden needles of freezing cold that hit him. He slipped and slammed into the wall before falling onto his ass as the freezing cold water continued to rain down on him. Enjoying the bit of petty revenge for a few moments, she finally pulled away, finding that she was a bit tired. Breathing out a breath as the water started to warm and fall on the shivering man, she floated away from the shower and settled back into the shadows that wrapped around her like a blanket.

Cradled by them, she settled back in to rest and wait for the man to come out. Maybe when the others came to take her place, she would be able to share this story of what happened, but currently all she wanted was to rest. He wouldn’t be going anywhere that they didn’t know about. Not yet.

After all, he had to be a good little boy for the public and not end up disappearing or moving suddenly. That would bring to much attention to him which would be bad in all aspects.