"I was a mistake of nature, a mad beast."

- Andrei Chikatilo, also known as "Butcher of Rostov," was one of the most notorious serial killers in Russian history, and is believed to have been responsible for the murder of at least 53 people. He was convicted and for 52 of these murders in October 1992 and subsequently in February 1994. 

Chapter 29- Connect the Dots 3

The night fell quickly, the music at the strip club was blaring, and people were beginning to emerge from the comfort of their homes. Bodies silken with sweat, the girls of the night twisted themselves on the stage like circus ribbons; beautiful and captivating. It was no wonder that most men, no matter the age, was drawn to them. 

But their was one women in particular that, like a siren, called all the men to her side with the sickly sweet call of her laughter and the magical twirl of her lips. Eyeliner cut like a knife, lips slashed with red, and a body like an hourglass, she was the most beautiful sight to behold. With skin as dark as the nights sky, the sweat on her body twinkled under the light like stars. Cleopatra was the name she gave to the men who paid for her company. Cleo was the name she gave to her friends, and her favourite client. 

She could not see his face, but she could sense his presence. If she did not need the money her current occupation offered her, she knew that she would have spent the night in his arms, watching a comedy on the TV while her son played with his lego on the ground below them. But she did need the money, so she could not. Instead, they would steel an hour away with each other in one of the back rooms after he paid a heavy sum to her boss. 

She was loved by many, in the bedroom and out of the bedroom, so her boss did not mind when her boyfriend came to visit. The only way to tell him apart from the vast amount of men in the room was by his beard, cut short and kept, which when added to the piercing of his eyes, cloaked him with an allure of danger.

He stalked towards her, slid a fifty in her pocket, and pulled her towards the back room. A long day had made him agitated, wearing the line of his patience thin. His friend had joined him at the bar, also after a long day, and had already slipped into a room with the girl of his choosing. 

He just wished to be a home with the women he loved in his arms, but could not. He knew she would not leave the place out of fear that she would not be able to pay for her child's future. He had offered to pay for the child many times, but even Cleo knew that his money would not be enough to fund the child's future. Although his job was stable, it did not make him rich like many claimed. 

If anything, he had an average income which allowed him to buy the groceries every week, pay for his and Cleo's apartment, and then the extra coins went into his savings to pay for his visits to Cleo or for her son's babysitter. 

Once they reached the back room, she didn't even get the chance to say his name before he locked his lips with hers. She reciprocated immediately, missing his shiver inducing touches. Tangling her hands in his hair, they fell backwards onto the cushions. 

But just as they did, a loud thud echoed in the room behind them, jerking from each others arms. Exchanging a glance, they quietly pressed their ears up against the wall, attempting to hear what was on the other side. 

There was another loud thud, and then a scuffle, and then a shout. The mans eyes widened and pressed a finger to his lips, motioning for her to follow behind him silently. He debated the two paths he could take; go and investigate, possibly saving someones life, or run. Stepping outside the room, he placed one foot in the direction of the pounding music, wishing to escape the circumstance they were in. But then a tug at his sleeve changed his course of action. Cleo wanted to go and investigate. 

He sighed and shook his head, pointing back towards the club and pulling her towards him. She stood her ground and shook her head. 

"What if it was Blue?" She mouthed the name of her son and a pang of sympathy pierced his heart. She was right; if it was there son or daughter in the room, they would want to save them. And whoever was in that room was someones son or daughter who needed their help. 

Together they crept up to the door and pushed it open slowly. The creak was swallowed by the sound of the pounding music, much to their relief, so they continued onward. Pushing the door open completely, they were greeted by shattered glass, broken furniture, and a couple struggling in the centre of the room. 

There was a man on the ground, dark hair slick with sweat and mattered with spots of blood, and a women, a beautiful red haired women, on top of him. Hands tight around the mans neck, the women was attempting to strangle him, and it looked as if she had almost succeeded. 

Cleo exchanged a panicked glance with her lover, and before he could stop her, leapt into the scene. Her lover cried out when she ripped the unknown women off of the man on the ground. They struggled with each other, pulling and scratching, punching and biting. He could no longer take it. As soon as the red haired women laded a cracking punch on the lip of Cleo, he launched himself into the mess. 

With strength that overpowered the women, he grabbed her by the neck and ran her into the wall. She grunted as her back connected with a table and her head hit the wall, but she did not stop fighting. She clawed at his arms, managing to draw blood, and spat in his face. Overwhelmed with the heat if the situation, he threw her body onto the ground with such a force that the wood beneath them cracked. 

Chest heaving, the man stalked over to the red haired women, ready to protect Cleo again if it came to it. But when he approached, he realised she was no longer breathing. Blood seeped out of the back of her head and chest, covering the floor in a carpet of red. 

Unbeknownst to him, he had thrown her onto the shards of glass left behind from a shattered vase. They had pieced her brain and her spinal cord. She was dead. 

A shaky sigh left his lips, he kneeled beside the body in shock. 

Cleo placed a hand on his shoulder; she too could not understand what had just happened. 

A cackling laugher filled the room; the other man had sat up from the ground and was bent over laughing. 

"Is she dead?" He asked, a wide smile on his lips. He looked no older than twenty, but the way he spoke made him sound like a child. 

Cleo nodded, unsure of how to respond to the deranged man they had just saved from the demanding hands of death. 

"Well then, guess you better take care of the body then. Wouldn't want to go to Gail now would we?" Cleo nodded again, her loved was unresponsive. "Don't you worry. Ill help you. You did save my life. So I best repay you." 

Cleo's lover seemed to momentarily recover from his shock and began to stand up. He knew he had to get rid of the body, and fast, before they were discovered. He had scene the inside of a Gail cell first hand, his work required him to know the ins and outs of prison life, and so he knew he could not end up in that place. He had too much to live for; Cleo, her son, perhaps having a child with Cleo. She would not be able to survive without him. He would not be able to survive without her. 

So he too nodded, stood up, and got on with it. 

It was a long and lengthy process to clean up the body, but they all chipped in to have her disposed of within the hour. Cleo got the mops from the store room, told the manager she had a 'lady' accident in one of the rooms, and began to clean the blood from the floor.

His friend from work later walked in on the scene. After a moment of shock, he helped the man clean up his very bloody mess. 

The other man continued to watch the scene unfold before him, snickering under his breath and the stupidity of it all. He would eventually use this whole mess to his advantage. 

Ten years later, the two men would meet again. Only this time, in very different circumstances; one, behind bars, and the other, trying to keep his secret. 

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