"So, cards down?" I coldly asked whilist not breaking eye contact with his hands.

Rule #1

Serial killers hate predictability. They believe they have the upper hand. Their hands are their tools and their most vulnerable place. Stare at them to disarm them.

*Possible outcomes

They will either attack you or let you go.

"You have a style, I see?" he chuckled. His expression then turned serious, "Not to worry, I do the same," he offered with a side smile.

We sat down six feet from each other. None of us spoke a word because none of us wanted to break the silence.

Rule #2

They thrive on pain and vulnerability. Do not show emotion.

*Possible outcomes

They will force it out of you.

"So, the date last night was great," he started but seeing me not breaking my composure, he groaned, "Come on. We both do this. Why are we even here?"

"You called," I nearly spat out but caught myself at the last minute. God, I hated this man.

"Why do you do it?" he questioned.

"Why do you do it" I repeated back, refusing to break. He was up to something, I could feel it.

"Very well, I will start. I do it for the thrill, and you were supposed to be next, but seeing our situation, you won't be."

"How so?"

"Um, hello. We both do the same."

Rule #3

If they feel you slip away from them, they will try to lure you back in. Narcissism 101.

I got up from the chair and pointed my gun at him, "I am sorry, but date night is over, forever."

Rule #5

Some of them are tricksters. Act smart.

Before I could pull the trigger, I pointed it at my head, and bam - just as I suspected - empty.

"You are way smarter than I suspected," he said, "However, not smart enough."

Rule #6

Serial killers will try to convince you they are better than-

"Rule #6?" he questioned, a toothy grin appearing on his face, "You know, it took me a lot to find out your gimmick, sister," he continued while pointing his finger at me and slowly getting closer.

"This entire thing is a setup," he said while slowly circling me.

He stopped in front of me, took my hands in his, looked me deep into my eyes, and asked through gritted teeth, "Care to enlighten me on rule #9?"

I found myself speechless. For the first time in my life, I felt like one of my victims, helpless, cold, scared, and alone. Even the rage of being caught couldn't outshine the terrible feeling I'd had.

For the first time in my life, the voice inside me was wrong. And at the worst possible time.

If it was a victim, I could run away and hide. But when you lose your composure in front of a predator, you can only prey your end comes fast.

"Never leave traces behind," I finally muttered.

"That is right," he roared and kissed my temple, "But why is it rule #9? Why not number 1#?" he curiously questioned.

The way he looked at me, I knew he didn't care about the rules order. He asked this for a specific reason. But what?

I couldn't focus or concentrate. He was playing with me, slowly torturing my mind until I fall into madness. Until I break for him.

And he was succeeding.

"Predictability, my love," he whispered in my ear. "I am not predictable for you", he sang.

He backed to the shelf near the door, pulled out a sledgehammer, and slowly dragged it toward me.

"I guess you surrender, no?" he asked.

Now or never, I thought and threw a knife at him. It was a special knife that could successfully cut deep if you threw it the right way.

It ended right in his heart.

He fell, and as I came closer, he spoke, "I saw the knife shining as soon as you entered."

He was honest? Now I was really taken aback.

"Why didn't you-" I asked but he interrupted.

"Predictability", he said. "I really liked you Carrie, and I wanted to keep seeing you, but I knew you wouldn't find peace until you ended me."

He pushed the hammer and a small key toward me, "But I can give you my legacy."

With these last words, he died with the same toothy grin on his face and the same wide-open eyes staring lovingly? into mine.

I shed a lot of tears that night. For the first time, I felt love, and I lost it. For the first time, somebody cared for me.

Now, well now, I guess I have to do much more work to heal those wounds, or at least suppress them.

And the legacy Greg left me in his basement gave me new projects to work on.