Despite living here for nearly three years and a half, Derek barely knew anyone here on a personal level. That was up to his aunt who manages to sneak in long and personal conversations with the tenants during her monthly collection of rent. Derek wasn’t much of a people person anyway. His only circle of friends consists of colleagues from college whom he used to play DnD. Come to think of it. It’s been months since the group last banded together for a campaign. Everyone is way too busy with their career and life. Well, all except for Derek who doesn’t need to work since he’s a trust fund baby.
Derek threw out the rest of his coffee down the sink fearing that the shop owner might have spiked something magical in it. He sat back on the sofa while the television mumbled in the background. The dagger shone like an iridescent jewel thanks to the sunlight peeking through the floor-to-ceiling window. It’s a tool begging to be used, to do the same sick thing the shop owner did to his cat. But he’s unsure if he could do that to another person. He can’t just walk to someone and stab them right then and there. What if someone saw him? How could he explain the fucked up shit that ensures? “Sorry, I turned this person into a skin that I will wear. Nothing to see here, move on?”
If he was to use this dagger, it must be in a secluded place where no one could see him. A few people are already coming to mind. So, who did Derek use the dagger on?