Prologue

Lightning flashed over the Manhattan skyline, hardly making a noticeable difference for anyone walking through the simulated daylight of Time Square. A sudden crack of thunder let loose the sheets of rain that had been straining at the clouds all day. The rain pelted the sidewalk in torrents, signaling the thousands of people gathered in the tourist square that it was time to find shelter. A variable chaos ensued as tourists rushed into stores or across the busy sidewalk to the nearest taxi, leaving no time to decipher whether it was actually available or not. The locals calmly pulled out their umbrellas as they began hurrying into the subway terminals, leaving Christina Weber swearing behind them.

It would, of course, rain on the one day she didn't bring her umbrella. However, she did see it fitting that it would rain, after the day that she had. The weather only seemed to reflect her mood. To be put simply, it hadn't been her year—it was her first year at college, and it had been a lot harder than she expected. To make matters worse, her parents got a divorce, ending their thirty year marriage.

Another flash, another roll of thunder, and another wave of water descending from the sky.

As the wind picked up, Christina pulled a hair tie off of her wrist and pulled her long, soaking black hair into a bun on the top of her head. Circles of color popped up over her as people poured out of the subway onto the streets. She was shoved somewhere in the middle of crowd. She narrowed her eyes and growled. When she finally made her way to the edge of the crowd, a taxi sped by, spraying her with water. Her shoulders sagged. "Screw you too!" she yelled after it. She looked down at her black skinny jeans, which were now covered in water up to her knees. She sighed again, and swore before continuing her way back to her apartment.

Suddenly, something didn't feel right to her. It was like someone was watching her. Of course someone is watching me, she told herself. It's pouring rain, in the middle of the biggest city in the United States, and I don't have an umbrella. I look a little weird. Probably just a tourist. She continued walking down the street, stuffing her hands into her pockets. She couldn't shake that feeling though. A quick glance over her shoulder reassured her that it was nothing to worry about, but her pace quickened. Stories of girls cornered, raped and murdered passed through her mind. Changing the song on her iPod, she turned the corner, suddenly deciding that a different route home might be in order on this rainy night. Contrary to what she wanted, the feeling of being watched didn't go away. As she turned to face the direction of the supposed eyes, the sounds of the busy streets around her faded.

Two emerald green eyes bore holes into her from the corner. A dark black hood covered his head, and if Christina didn't know better, she would say he was the Grim Reaper. His eyes portrayed his malicious intent. Shivers crept up her spine when their eyes locked. He slowly began to walk towards her. When the realization that he was coming for her hit her, she took off in a full sprint down the street. She frantically pushed her way into the middle of the sidewalk, knocking businessmen out of her way as her combat boots pounded the sidewalk. Thoughts of staying dry disappeared. Her only thought was to get away from this madman chasing her. Apologies spewed from her lips as she pushed her way through the crowd. The sound of angry voices carried over the crowd. She glanced over her shoulder and saw her Grim Reaper in a heated argument with an innocent businessman that was going to give him a piece of his mind. She took this as her chance to get to a place of semi safety. A little ways ahead of her was an alley. It was the perfect opportunity for her to get away. She ducked into it, hoping for the best.

There was really nowhere to hide in the alley, but it was her only option. She hoped that her follower would just think that she had continued going down the street. A knot formed tightly in her stomach. She clutched the cross around her neck and prayed harder than she ever had in her life. Rain poured out of a gutter and splashed down on her head. She slowly felt shivers running up and down her skin as she became drenched. She didn't care. Another crack of thunder caused her jump. The next flash of lightning lit up the alley, showing her that there was a space behind the dumpster in the back of the alley. With a quick glance heavenward, she jogged over to her new hiding place. Her breath hitched in her throat as she heard crunching on the gravel at the end of the alley.

He knew he had her cornered. His momentary glitch with the businessman had not kept him from keeping his eyes on her. He had watched her go into the alley, but he had not seen her come out. Despite the appearance of there being no one in the alley, he knew that there was no other place for her to go—except for behind the dumpster. A smirk crossed his face as he began walking down the alley. The gravel crunched beneath his shoes. It aggravated him, but there was really nothing he could do about it. He shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and clutched the handle of the knife. His hand was sweaty profusely in nervous anticipation. As he edged near the wall, he spotted his prey huddled behind the dumpster with her eyes squeezed shut. His heart rate sped up as he waited for her to realize that he was standing there. Of course, he could just kill her right there, but there was no satisfaction if she wasn't aware of who had killed her. He wanted to see the fear and realization in her eyes before he ended her.

The crunching had stopped. Christina Weber slowly opened her eyes. She hoped that the ceasing of sound meant that he had sufficiently searched the alley, come up empty, and left. At first, she thought that was what had happened. All she saw were the bright lights of the city reflecting against the cloud cover. The rain had stopped. Unfortunately for her, as her eyes adjusted, a dark silhouette appeared in front of her. His wicked green eyes burned in the darkness. Fear gripped every fiber of her being. The knot in her stomach tightened. Her hands instinctively went to cover her face as he reached out. His surprisingly smooth hands latched onto her wrists. She struggled against the vices around her wrists; she tried to step on his foot, or make any sort of defensive contact. Somehow, the heel of her combat boot impacted the toe of his foot causing him to swear loudly. She used the moment of surprised to scratch at his arms, break free and bolt down the alley. It wasn't enough time.

He grabbed her wrist again and halted her escape. She scratched at him again. The fire in his eyes burned brighter with anger. He slapped her across the face, causing her to close down her struggle. He pulled the knife out of the sweatshirt. He pressed the blade to her throat, clutching the handle so tightly his knuckles turned white. The smirk came back to his face, growing into a full smile. The look of absolute fear in her eyes let him know that she knew she wasn't going to be leaving this alley. Anger coursed through his veins, but he was proud of himself for having this much of an effect on someone that had caused him so much pain. This was his favorite part: watching them struggle because of him.

The fight had left her. She knew she wasn't going to make it. She had resigned herself to this fate. Besides, there was nothing else she could think of to get herself out of this situation. He was just too strong for her to fight him off. "Don't," she quietly begged.

He shook his head. "You could have had everything with me! But you rejected me. This is what you deserve," he told her in a strained whisper. He pressed the blade harder against her skin.

Then it clicked. The eyes found a spot of recognition in her mind, but for everything she was worth, she couldn't remember his name. The thought crossed her mind that if she could just remember his name, then maybe, just maybe, she could delay him enough to get out of this situation. "Please, I'm sorry. We can start over, get a drink."

"Too late," he growled. He pulled the blade across her neck, letting a silent scream rest on her lips. Two spurts of blood sprayed up on his black sweatshirt. He smirked, satisfaction filling his chest. He ran back to the sidewalk, wiped his knife on the sweatshirt before dumping the sweatshirt in the nearest trashcan. He knew he would have to come back once the rain stopped to finish the job.

Christina Weber, on the other hand, lay still on the wet ground as the rain continued to fall onto her body.