Stalked By A Serial Killer

Chapter Twenty-One: You Aren't Worth Dying For

Chapter Twenty-One: "You Aren't Worth Dying For."

TODAY'S THE DAY. Today's the day where I am either going to live, or die.

Bryce and I decided to go on instinct with the warehouse Stalker's call came from, and hopefully the Stalker Squad doesn't know of Bryce's hacking abilities, otherwise this is going to be a lot worse if they're already expecting us.

Well, today was supposed to be the day.

See, now I'm in an all too familiar place: jail.

No, I didn't do anything wrong this time, apparently they're doing this for 'safety measures', because they think I'm in danger that my stalker might strike again soon. Though they aren't totally wrong; shit is most likely going to go down whether I'm involved or not. But I need there when it does; I have family that needs to get taken care of.

6 hours earlier

"Guns and ammo?" Stolen from Charlie's stash, if you're curious.

"Check."

"Gloves, first aid kit, silencers, pain killers. . ." Mom's medical lab downstairs.

"Check, check, check, and check."

"Syringes–"

"Yes, Morgan, we have everything. All the supplies are accounted for, even the extras in the duffel bags."

"Okay, okay. Wait, let me check one more time," I walk over to the bag where the syringes are held, and all thirty are there. "Whew. Okay, now we're good." I don't even know what to manage if I managed to lose all thirty needles. Those are going to help me do a lot of the damage if worse comes to worse.

"I don't understand why you need those. . . stabby things. We have the guns, knives, and whatever else you wanted. I don't think needles are exactly needed."

"We want to go in unnoticed, Bryce. Guns make noise, and noise draws attention and then that means all the people in there are going to panic, resulting in Tyler and whoever else is held in there to die."

"That reason exactly is why you packed silencers." He explains. Oh. Right. Silencers.

"Well, still. These babies are packed with sleeping agents."

"They aren't sleeping agents if you're permanently putting them down." He points out.

"Okay, fine, so I'm euthanizing them, so what? It's a better way to die, anyway."

Bryce gives me an unsure and questionable look. "Where did you even manage to get like three dozen of these like it's buying chocolate?"

"My Mom is a surgeon, Bryce, not to mention she has like her own mini science lab in the basement."

"Yeah, but I thought she hasn't used that place in years?" He says, shocked. He's right, my Mom hasn't used her medicine lab in a few years. She used to study and experiment with different pain stimulants and looked for cures of cancers and almost anything else fatal. I guess her wanting to study pain tolerance could be because of my abuse, maybe making a new agent that's natural to the human body where it can make pain nonexistent, kind of like adrenaline or general anaesthesia  but a whole lot stronger, and it lasted a lot longer than other stimulants already created.

Mom never made it public, that she was playing Scientist out of the operating room because she didn't want to do trials on a different topic, and she loved being a surgeon than a scientist. Me on the other hand. . .

I always wanted to be a scientist. I do really well in the science department; Chemistry to be specific. It's my strongest subject, and I always wanted mix chemicals and find new compounds. But with my record, it's hard to find a job that will accept a juvenile into their programs.