It was a moonless night and the street was lit by just a solitary street lamp standing in a corner by the bridge, not doing its job as usual. He lay in wait silently in the shadows, smoky quartz eyes gleaming in the dark. His prey emerged from behind the bridge, walking along the seemingly endless road, unaware of the cruel end that awaited it. He crept towards his target with lithe, panther-like grace, hands in the pockets of his trench coat and he smiled.

He did not expect her to put up much of a fight. Then again, she never did when they were together. It was easy; a blow to her stomach knocked her out quickly. He stabbed her heart repeatedly, losing count of the number of times he did it as his lips curled into a satisfied smile. Blood gushed out of the wound, staining her blue uniform purple. He opened her eyes somewhat gently, a mockery of the way he had just stabbed her. Oh, how pretty her aquamarine eyes were to him.

He reached forward and gingerly plucked her eyes from its sockets.

Blue used to be his favourite colour. It once represented justice. Peace. Freedom. Hope. Since young he had believed in the goodness of the colour blue – it was the reason why he joined the police force. However, his little fantasy world of the goodness of policemen that upheld justice, kept the peace and made the world a safer place to live in, was smashed to smithereens by the cruelty of reality.

Jilted by his policewoman girlfriend, he fell in love with another policewoman from different squad who always seemed to be there for him, only to find out that he was just one of her various flings. His closest friend in the force proceeded to deal him another blow while his wounds were still smarting by revealing that he seduced his girlfriend, causing her to dump him. At the lowest point of his life, the junior policeman attached to him betrayed him to one of the largest street gangs in the city and accused him of collaborating with the gang members to erase their criminal records in exchange for large amounts of money. Though this was untrue, his superior ordered him to resign to protect the squad's reputation.

Blue was no longer pure, tainted by those around him. He left the police force, shaken and devastated. His love for the colour had died; all that was left of the fire and passion that once burned in his heart were ashes. Blue disgusted him.

He awoke early the next morning as he reached for the leather bound notebook placed by his bedside. The pages were empty except for one filled with small, untidy scribbling and a list scrawled hurriedly in his scratchy handwriting.

"The supposed fling…" he muttered under his breath as he struck off yet another name on the list without a single hint of regret in his voice.

"This is the 7 o' clock news on channel twenty three. Early this morning, the bloody remains of a young policewoman were found by the lovers' bridge, a haunt popular with young lovers in the night. Her eyes were gouged out manually and she was stabbed at least twenty times in the heart. Her eyes have yet to be found. This is the second murder of a policewoman. Earlier this week the police found another member of the force killed in a more horrific manner. The victim's chest was cut open and her heart was ripped out, found a metre away from her body, crushed by what seems like a man's foot; yet her blood vessels were severed cleanly by perhaps, a surgical knife. The strangest thing is that both policewomen were killed clad in their uniform. The police suspect that this is the work of a serial killer…"

He walked away from the news telecast broadcasted on the giant television placed at the crossroads of the business district in the city he lived in. His lips curled into a smile of grim satisfaction as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his trench coat and started to walk just like a predator before hunting its prey.

The words of the woman he had just killed still rang in his head.

"You caught my eye. That's why I was your girlfriend. But you couldn't keep me entertained, so of course, I had to ditch you."

He could not forget those smug words of hers; voice filled with condescension. It haunted. He had already killed her and just like what she said, caught her eyes. Yet those words would not go away.

He clenched his fists tightly, fingernails digging into his palm as he entered a shady pub in a corner of the business district, awaiting his next target as he enjoyed the services the bargirls offered him.

His next victim was the kind who let down his guard as soon as he knew who he was talking to, which was good. He wasted no time feeding the man anesthesia and he removed the sharp surgical knife he kept in his pocket. Slowly, he skinned the man, taking care to remove his faded blue uniform and folding it neatly, laying it by is side. After his work was complete, he sprinkled salt on the raw skin of the man, a demented smile stretching across his pale face as he watched the anesthesia wear off and the man starting writhing on the floor in acute pain as life slipped from his body.

Uncontrollable laughter escaped him.

He reached home only in the wee hours of the morning, weary from the various activities of the previous night. He reached for the leather bound notebook, hand trembling ever so slightly from exhaustion as he cancelled out the next name on his list.

"Breaking news! Yet another body was found late last night in an alleyway in the outskirts of the business district. It is believed to be that of a man's but he has yet to be identified due to the manner in which he was killed. The police have refused to disclose any details about the murder except that the deceased was a member of the police force. Moving on…"

He looked at the television and suppressed a mad urge to laugh. Perhaps the police had deemed it as too gruesome a thing to reveal to the public. He laughed shrilly in delight like a child who had just received an ice-cream treat as the memories of the previous night flooded his mind. He knew he did not do anything wrong, for all he had done was to do unto his victim what his victim had done unto himself…

He rang the doorbell of a beautiful cottage in the middle of the bustling city, an oddity in the collection of skyscrapers.

"Coming!" someone called out.

His fists clenched tighter inside his trench coat pockets.

He returned home much earlier that night though he had taken his time to kill his latest victim. Canceling off the next name on his list, he smiled as he saw the last name.


"This is the 7 o' clock news on channel twenty three. The police have discovered yet another body in the garden of a cottage situated in the middle of the business district. They suspect that it might be the work of the serial killer as the deceased was also clad in police uniform. However, they do not rule out suicide as the knife was stabbed directly into the deceased's spinal chord at 90 degrees. The police are baffled by the bizarre way in which the serial killer kills his victims. As of yet, the police have only found minimal connection between the four victims and are currently in the midst of investigating every possibility to prevent more of such deaths…"

He sighed. The next night would be the last night the news would bear such reports. Tonight he would erase all that had turned blue into something so tainted, so repulsive… He smiled.

Leaning against a brick wall, he looked at his watch which had long stopped working. Its hands lay dead, motionless. His next victim would end up with a similar fate, perhaps. He looked up.

Just as he thought, he saw the man who was once his superior, his final victim, a lone figure walking along the road.