They say a girl can never be overdressed. Of course, one's dress must be accompanied by the perfect accessory. Every girl has their own, unique, favorite piece. Mine is a pyrope garnet pendant. It's a lovely crimson color, soft, yet powerful. I wear the pendant everywhere I go, especially on a hunt.

It's the thrill of the chase that excites me. Slowly luring my prey into their trap, only to be harshly devoured. I haven't hunted in months. Nothing excited had come around, not until last week.

Dorian Wolfe. Everything about him was average. Average height, average personality. Everything except his eyes. They were a stunning green, almost pure emerald, accentuated by his very plain features. It is like drawing bright green circles on a blank canvas. They'll always be the first thing you see.

Right now, Dorian is pacing back and forth in his bedroom. His parents aren't home, nor are any neighbors. They all went to some "community meeting." Dorian pauses for a second and I'm sure he sees me. I send him a wicked grin just before he goes back to pacing.

I slip into his backyard and unlock the basement door. I slowly creep upstairs, careful not to make a sound. I reach his bedroom door. I slip a small silver blade out of my jacket. I flip it over two or three times to help calm my nerves.

The door creaks open and Dorian looks up. He's shocked, but doesn't get a chance to say anything. Before he could even blink, the knife was embedded in his throat. He topples to the floor. I can feel life bleeding out of him.

As soon as I'm certain that he's dead, I begin to clean. I make his bed, pick up scraps of paper, and carefully move the body to his bed. The blood of my victims never goes to waste. It's always used to acknowledge the family's loss. This time is no different.

I check my watch, a quarter to 8. They'll be back soon. I quickly write out my condolences and clean my knife. Before leaving the room, I kiss my pendant. My father taught me to always honor our fallen. I shut and lock all doors behind me.

I watch the house closely for the next few hours. I see Dorian's parents come home, and soon police are swarming the neighborhood. As the sun sets, I begin to wander home. Slipping away unseen.

I never could stand people with pretty eyes.