A/N: Too much entertaining horror has led to this new product. Horror is never something I really delved too deep into but now I'm gonna change that.

Black Dahlia

Summary: When he walked free, all she wanted was for him to suffer for what he did. But once she got a taste for it, she found out that she couldn't stop. Not until she dished out her own justice for the world to see.


October 28th, 2019

In an abandoned house in a small backwater town in the southern United States, Christine Sokolov decided she did not want to be there any longer than she needed to be. Something about the place just seemed off. There was no rot on the wooden furniture and fresh food sitting in a basket in the kitchen, yet no one had lived here for years. Not since the infamous 'Black Dahlia' murders took place in this very house five years ago.

She had seen the evidence for herself. Weapons used by the murderer were still stained red with dried blood, showing their love of their work.

Her lip trembled and she cleared her throat before closing her eyes, attempting to make contact with the dark malignant presence that lingered in the abandoned structure. "Alana Ehler, I summon you. Speak to me now. I want to hear the voice of the Black Dahlia killer."

Christine heard hushed whispers and the wind picked up suddenly, slamming the windows shut. When she opened her eyes she saw a young blonde woman sitting comfortably in one of the old lounge chairs. She was striking to look at, clad in a gothic style dress and fishnets. In her hands was a fresh cigarette and she blew out a cloud of smoke. "You called?"

Christine was taken aback. She didn't expect this to be the person responsible for so much death. "You're Alana? The woman who claims to have killed 46 people in less than a year?"

"Claim to?" Alana chuckled and shook her head. "Darling, spare me the usual bullshit you psychic types love to spew. You know damn well that I was rather insistent on keeping track of those whose lives I took."

She crossed her legs and rested her chin in her hand, smiling. There was no malice, no crazed look in her bright blue eyes. Just eerily calm. The perfect serial killers usually were. No one would suspect that a sweet young woman was in fact responsible for so much bloodshed. Christine had to suppress a bitter chuckle. It was like they always said; the quiet ones were the ones to watch out for when they snapped.

"So, did you call me for a social call or do you want to get on with this little investigation of yours? Dead or not, I don't exactly have all day you know." Alana took another drag from her cigarette. "I do have other things I need to do. Like making sure my work is completed."

"I want to know why you murdered all those innocents," Christine answered firmly.

"Innocents? Girl, please." Alana laughed without mirth. "What was so innocent about them? They were as guilty of their crimes as Jeffrey Dahmer was of his. No one is really without sin. I just happened to come along and do what was necessary. I found my place in life and now it continues, even in death."

The blonde stood up and straightened her skirt, one hand on her hip as she leaned down over Christine. "You know nothing of the horrible shit those assholes did. Those so-called innocents? They were rapists, spouse abusers, thieves, pedophiles, the lot. I did the world a goddamn service. There is a reason why crime in this city dropped nearly 80% in the past five years. Why my name is immortalized in song. Because the average hardworking person thanks me for what I did."

"So…you have no remorse whatsoever?"

"Why should I? No one had any sympathy for me when I was raped in public. So why should I care about slitting some pedophile's throat? Son of a bitch had it coming and the general populace agreed with me. They all thought the same thing, dearie. They thought that someone should kill them, and I did."

Christine could practically taste the anger swirling around Alana's spirit. It was thick enough to choke on and she coughed, able to smell the smoke from her cigarette properly now as if she weren't a mere ghost, but rather still alive. Being able to commune with those who were trapped between planes was more of a curse than a blessing, she decided. Especially now that she was sitting down and talking with one of the worst serial killers to ever strike the country.

"Many would disagree," Christine countered, ignoring the unimpressed scoff from the blonde. "But my question still stands. Why did you do it? What pushed you to become the Black Dahlia Killer?"

Alana hummed. "Normally, I'd tell you the same bullshit I do to every other goddamn psychic who tries contacting me so I can get you to fuck off and let me enjoy what life I have left. But for some reason, you interest me. So, you'll get to hear the real reason. Are you taking notes? Because school is in session and I'm the fucking headmistress."

Christine pulled out her notepad and pen, ready to hear the true story behind the mass murders that plagued this city for a year. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest and she waited for the blonde to start her story.

"A lot of people will tell you that going on a murder spree like I did is something only psychopaths will do. That it is crazy," Alana said. "But you know what's crazy? Normal people working normal jobs and they go home to their families. They turn on the news and see rapists, murderers, and child molesters. And they all think the same exact thing even if they won't say it. They think that someone should go and kill those motherfuckers. And I did."

The blonde spirit sighed and adjusted her corset. "None of my killings were without reason. They were coordinated in every way. Every grisly murder the police found was carefully planned out."

"So you feel as though they were justified?" Christine asked.

"You call them malicious, but I see it as doing a service." Alana shrugged. "My deeds made the city a safer place. People were able to go out on the streets and not have to fear someone taking an axe to their throat or raping them in a dark alley in the middle of the night. Parents could let their children go to school by themselves safely. You can call me a serial killer and a horrible person as much as you want, but I did what was necessary."

"There are laws to protect against that," the psychic replied firmly. "Justified or not, murder is still illegal. Those criminals were to be punished in accordance with the laws."

"The same laws that let the person who raped me walk away scot free? Or let crackpot dictators do what they please? Give me a fucking break." Alana scoffed. "The laws don't do jack shit. They're tools of whoever holds the chips. What do you tell those who suffered? 'Sorry you had to die today, we'll make things better eventually'? My actions made the world a better place and you cannot argue with the results. Even today, five years after I was gunned down by the police, my deeds are still sung by those who weren't blind to the corruption of the justice system."

Christine wrote down what she could, her hand scribbling over the notepad furiously. The more she listened to Alana, the more she was beginning to see that this was not the ramblings of a crazed murderer like she initially thought. This was the words of a vigilante who truly thought that what they had done was right. In a very troubling way, Alana wasn't wrong. Yes she had done horrible things, but her actions had saved others from meeting terrible fates.

"You believe that they praise you for what you did?"

"Believe it? Hell, I know it. Everyone knows what I did in this city. Even though I'm long dead, you'll notice that crime in the city is still down by eighty percent. And even if they don't say it out loud where others can hear them, they all think it. They still believe in me."

"You are not wrong," Christine admitted. God, she hated that she was seeing more of why the blonde did what she did. It was disturbing to think that she was agreeing with a serial killer of all people. The justice system was corrupt and massive changes needed to be done. But that was going to take time. Could they really just let others suffer why those in power tried to make changes?

Alana chuckled bitterly. "You know, no one ever reported me. I did leave a messy trail just to piss the detectives off for a bit before I had enough fun and was more methodical. Hell, I even answered the door while I was getting ready to finish the deed on a sick son of a bitch who I found trying to rape some poor girl. Tools out and everything."

"No one reported you? Were they too afraid to or did they agree with you?"

"Trust me honey, they agreed with me. There were whispers in shady clubs whenever I took a break to grab a drink. They were saying how I made so many different people's lives easier. They even had a toast to me. If only they knew that the Black Dahlia killer was alongside them. Maybe they'd buy me a round."

Alana paused to adjust her corset, blowing out a cloud of smoke into the psychic's face and making her cough. "Next question?"

"Who was your first victim? There is a lot of speculation on who was truly the first victim of the Black Dahlia killer," Christine said, waving the smoke away from her face and getting rid of the sting in her eyes. "Some say it was the manager of a strip club that you worked at, others that it was a drug dealer. But who was it truly?"

"My first…hah." The serial killer smiled and sighed wistfully as if it were a fond childhood memory. "I remember it to this day. It was actually the person who defiled me. The court decided to let him go and the first chance I got, I killed him. Cornered him all alone and slit his throat after he left his friends to have a smoke. Even made sure to leave him alive for me taking what he cherished most, the sick bastard. Of course he didn't live long after I did it, but still. I got the satisfaction of hearing him scream."

"Oh? Could you go into specifics? And please don't leave out any grisly detail. This is for posterity after all."

Alana smiled again. "Well…since you were so nice to ask…I will."

April 22nd, 2014

Alana couldn't believe it when she heard the hammer slam down. Tears welled up in her eyes and she held her head in her hands, silently sobbing in the dusty old courthouse. The man who had defiled her and other women over the course of several months had just gotten his sentence, and she was beside herself. Nine months probation because there isn't enough proof!? Are you fucking kidding me!?

Nine fucking months. After what that sick bastard did to her, she wanted him to suffer and hoped that he would get what he deserved. But it appeared as though she was made to suffer for even the courts and the justice system let him get off scot free.

He meanwhile was rejoicing. He had the sheer fucking audacity to be happy that he was allowed to go out and repeat his vile actions. The courthouse began to disband, everyone leaving both in shock and anger about the judge's decision.

"That's such bullshit," one woman muttered under her breath. "I can't believe they let him get away with that."

"Me neither," the man next her, presumably her husband, said in agreement. "Those poor women suffered greatly and yet they are denied proper justice. Pity to see that this is what the world has been reduced to these days. No one can get what they deserve."

"But what can they do to make him suffer? Kill him? That'll only bring more pain and suffering," the woman pointed out. Their conversation faded away as they walked further and further out of earshot, and Alana's hands shook.

She wasn't crying out of sadness anymore. Now, it was anger. Anger at those who let the person who defiled her to walk away with nothing more than a little slap on the wrist. I can't believe this. Is this some sort of sick joke!? What the fuck does it take for someone to get what they deserve?

Do I actually have to kill him to make sure he suffers?

The thought of committing murder to get her own justice crossed her mind and she froze in her seat. She wouldn't try and call herself a good woman; she had done her fair share of horrible things, from drugs to helping steal. But she had done what was necessary for herself to stay alive. If she hadn't done some of those things, she wouldn't be breathing today.

I've stolen and lied before to further my own gain. But murder? Do I actually have it in me to do that?

I can't just let him get away with it. I have to do something. But what?

Alana's hands trembled and she slowly stood up from the uncomfortable wooden seat, wiping her eyes. There was no point in crying. Not anymore. All it had gotten her so far was constant abuse at the hands at others and no one giving a shit.

She knew that the real world was nothing more than a corrupt rotting husk, but for some reason, she couldn't help but hope that there was some decency left in it. Today had just proved to her that there wasn't any sort of order. Reason was absent. In its place was chaos. Chaos did not punish evil or reward righteousness. Chaos allowed innocents to be abused and they were supposed to accept it as fate.

Something inside of the young blonde woman begged to differ.

Somehow, the court's decision had lit a spark. Even the smallest of sparks could ignite into a deadly inferno that burned everything in its path. Alana walked out of the courthouse, no longer crying. Instead her gaze was little more than molten blue pits of fury. She would make the son of a bitch suffer, but she would do it her own way. It was no use turning to others for help; they would merely spit at her and tell her to take it somewhere else or that they didn't care.

That was fine by her. No doubt they wouldn't be able to handle the raw truth. That their precious system they worked so hard for didn't do jack fucking shit if you were a nobody. Unless you had power, the laws didn't do what they were supposed to. They were nothing more than the tools of the oppressors. No more.

It was time for that to end. Time for the guilty to pay for their crimes. Starting with him.

She glared daggers into her rapist's back as he walked down the steep steps, laughing jovially with his friends. Oh how she would make him suffer for what he did to her. Her hands trembled with anger and she stopped, taking a moment to steady herself. It was useless to exact her revenge in public and so soon after the case against him was dismissed. Every sign would point to her and she couldn't have a trail of any kind coming back to her.

No. It's best to wait a few days. Then, he'll get what he fucking deserves. I already know where the sick son of a bitch lives. I'll just stalk him a few days from now and when he's alone, I'll kill him.

Alana looked up at the sky and took in a deep breath. The scent of rain was in the air, the sign of an approaching storm. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and she was livid.

October 28th, 2019

Christine frowned and looked up from her notepad. She had been listening to Alana's recount of the tale for well over an hour now yet some of it didn't add up. According to the report the man had gone missing not even a day after his court date, yet Alana said she had waited at least a few days before committing her act of murder. "Wait, you didn't kill him that very day? Were the papers lying?"

"Of course I didn't." Alana let out a scoff and took a lazy drag off of her cigarette. "The hell do you think I am, braindead? If I did it the same day, it wouldn't take a fucking genius for someone to put the puzzle together. I would have been caught in less than a week, let alone a year. Come on, girl. Use that stuffing between your ears for something besides looking pretty."

The psychic flushed a little from the embarrassment of being called out like that and cleared her throat. "I'm asking because the papers indicate that he went missing the very next day. No one had seen him after the court appearance."

"Not strictly true." Alana smiled wickedly. "His little friends did. I knew he wouldn't go anywhere without someone watching his back and hiding like the coward he is. It didn't work, obviously, but you have to admire the ingenuity. He honestly thought he had gotten away with it, too. That might be the funniest part of all of this, actually. He assumed I would be his victim forever. Oh the look of shock on his face when he realized I wasn't."

"So…how long did you wait?" Christine asked. "It couldn't have been very long. Just long enough for suspicion to die down, I assume."

"Quite correct dearie." Alana grinned. "I assumed that two to three days would be more than enough time for me to commit my act and not have to worry about too much of a trail coming back to me. I know that kind of dumb crime show bullshit they show on television isn't worth much, but hey, I picked up a few tricks from acquaintances in the investigation business. No witnesses, no evidence that could be traced back to me."

"The police and investigators had to have been suspicious, at least a little bit."

"Oh they were. But how could they prove it? If you tidy up, you don't have to worry too much about people sticking their noses in places they don't belong. My choices were mine and mine alone. Besides, what were they going to do, arrest someone who ridded the world of a disgusting excuse of a human being? Please. They weren't going to do jack shit."

"You seem quite confident that they weren't going to do anything," Christine remarked. "Or is it arrogance? The line between them tends to blur rather often."

"When one of their detectives says the words themselves, that's when it's no longer an assumption but rather a guarantee," the serial killer countered. "Detective Cosworth should ring a bell. He was the detective assigned to the case. He had me shadowed, even planted bugs in my own home. He knew what I was doing. But he didn't lift a finger to stop it for he too shared the same desires as I did. He desired to see proper justice be dished out to the scum of the world and was so elated to meet me. He was the one who even gave me my name."

"Wait, really?" Christine asked incredulously. "He was the one who gave you the title of the Black Dahlia Killer? When and why?"

Alana waggled her finger with a grin, chuckling a little. "Patience, darling. Don't you know, it's rude to interrupt a good story. Don't want to spoil all the fun now, do we? Where's your sense of the dramatic moment?"

"Sorry. This is just a lot to take in." Christine took up her pen and motioned for her to continue. "Where were we?"

A/N: And that ends the first chapter of Black Dahlia. This is for NaNoWriMo so I'll be a lot more consistent with this than I have been in the past. I hope you all enjoyed and I'll see you again soon this month.