Routine's important. You build a structure for yourself and your life and you can accomplish anything right from the comfort of your own home. My father used to tell me that. He's dead now, and it is, unfortunately, the only sane piece of information he ever told me.
I wake up at 3:00 AM exactly, when all my neighbours are sound asleep, and I choke my cat who was sleeping peacefully next to me. Mister Tiger's fur, orange like the sun, shakes under my strength, a low hiss escapes his mouth as he tries to breathe, and the look of confusion in the animal's eyes is beyond beautiful to behold. After a few seconds I let Mister Tiger go, and he quickly jumps off my bed in order to hide somewhere else in the house. Clever cat.
It's a Monday. The best day of the week by far, largely due to the fact that my shift at the hospital is longest on a Monday. Conveniently Monday is also the day where the bugs in my brain stop buzzing, and the nervous twitch in my wrist seems to subside for a few moments. Getting out of bed, dressed in a brown robe that my sister gave me as a gift last year, I move straight to the bathroom and start gagging horribly into the toilet, trying to expel whatever bile has been busy building up inside me. Thick black gunk leaves my mouth and I realise I may have eaten too much last night.
Moving downstairs to my living room, I catch sight of Mister Tiger hiding in the kitchen, perched on a shelf, but before I can tempt the furry ball of meat over, he slips out the window on some crazy adventure. Tiger will be back, as long as I have food, and most importantly love, he'll always return. So I pour myself a cup of coffee, America's favourite wake up call, and take a sip from the mug I bought when on holiday in the Isle of Man last September. The settee in the centre of my room is plush and soft, perfect for some early contemplation, and as I sit, drinking coffee from my mug and contemplating my guest downstairs, I notice the smell.
At first it seems to be coming from downstairs, which would make sense considering the mess I made last night, but then I notice the black, round bin bags sitting by my front door, and I remember another reason Monday is the best day of the week. Monday is when the binmen drop by!
Drinking the last of my beverage, I move to the door and notice a dark, red liquid leaking softly from one of the bags. As I pluck the culprit up, the liquid leaks even further and I'm left with a large puddle starting to form in my carpet that I'll have to clean up later.
Stepping outside into the cold, I move towards the bin hovering just past my garden, and as I start to move, the liquid leaves behind a soft, red trail marking my journey. Across the street, my neighbour, Darren, waves to me as he returns home from his night shift at the local military base. I wave back in return before tossing my rubbish into the bin and sealing the thing shut.
Back in the house, curtains drawn and secluded from all, I have a good half hour to relax before I have to start getting ready for work.
That's more than enough time for what I have in mind.
So I move to the basement, picking up a hammer and goggles on my way, before beginning to move down the stairs and opening the door. There's a rustle of chains upon my approach, caused by the fanged creature glaring at me from the corner of the room, bright red eyes peering from the shadows. Cautious but confident, I pull out the stick of wood hidden in my sleeve and smile as the creature takes the form of an ashen haired woman.
"Do... you know what's going to happen when my friends find me?" The creature asks, face slowly twisting from something normal into one of pure hatred. "What we'll do to you?!"
She struggles against the chains, with them being more than capable of holding this beast, and keeping me safe in the process.
"Probably something like what you did to that hunter last week." I tell her, closing the basement door behind me and letting the shadows in the room cover my face. "He thanked me when I found him and ended his suffering." A look of horror fills the monster's face. "And now I thank God for letting me find you."
I pull on my goggles and ready my weapon. "Someone I can hurt, constantly, and never, ever kill."
The creature goes to say something, but I ignore her and switch on a radio that starts blaring Mozart throughout my house. Just loud enough to hide the screams.
The blood splatters will wait till tomorrow... and that's why I'm the happiest man alive.
@tommythehitman: Very nice contemporizing of the occult monster hunter archetype.
This story subverted my expectations of what I thought the character's motives were.
@nightwarden17: Did you originally think he was just a normal psychotic killer?
@tommythehitman: Originally, though your story clearly breaks the mold.