Chapter Text
Juniper counted the crumpled stack of bills she’d earned in tips that night. Most of them were singles, but she’d accumulated a decent amount over her shift, so she was satisfied. She typically received good tips, working at a place that essentially combined an Applebee’s with a strip club. Her job involved serving fajitas, nachos, and other dishes, all while wearing a skin-tight tank top that showcased ample cleavage and very short denim shorts. She didn’t understand how sex appeal factored into serving food, but that was the nature of her workplace.
Juniper was well aware that her physique was appealing, and since her art degree wasn’t landing her any job opportunities at the moment, she needed something to cover the rent. And food bills. And fund her obsession of sparkly things.
After gathering her belongings from a cubby in the staff room, she prepared to walk home. As usual, she had stayed late to help the closing shift clean up. Extra money was always welcome. By now, only two coworkers remained: Sarah, another waitress, who was about to be picked up by her boyfriend in a beat-up car, and Jim, the shift manager. Jim was middle-aged but not the sleazy type one might expect from a place like this. He was genuinely kind and respectful to all the staff.
“I can walk you home,” he offered, as he always did whenever they were the last two at the restaurant. Juniper didn’t have a car or a license, so she always walked to and from work. Even when it rained and made her beautiful, shampoo commercial worthy hair resemble a sewer rat. She would consider herself to be pretty sexy, as far as sewer rats go. She'd definitely have a sewer rat harem waiting on her hand and paw. Foot and paw? Paw and paw?
“No thanks, Jim! The weather’s nice, and I’m looking forward to the walk. My ass and thighs didn't get this deliciously thick without lots of walking. Besides, I’ve got pepper spray and a taser in my bag, so I’ll blind anyone who looks at me funny and electrocute them if that doesn't make them fuck off.” It was a bad idea but hindsight is 20/20.
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She was halfway home when everything went wrong. People often say they can sense when something bad is about to happen—an eerie feeling, a chill, or a sense of being watched. Juniper sensed nothing except a grumble in her belly that had her salivating at thoughts of the microwave mac n cheese that awaited her at home. The event unfolded too quickly for her to react. In the blink of an eye, a searing pain ignited across her neck, and a thick, warm substance began to pour from it, coating the fabric of her white tank top a dark red. That particular shade of red would have made a beautiful lipstick shade.
Her mind struggled to process what was happening. Fear hadn’t hit her yet, only a confusing haze, white hot pain, and a growing sluggishness. The last thing she saw were a pair of dark brown eyes glinting with something sinister, veins darkly visible beneath them, and a mouth smeared with red. “Thanks for the snack, darling,” the voice purred, a flash of teeth. And then, she fell. Her last thoughts were a disorganized and incoherent jumble: 'that rude bastard could have at least caught me before I fell over' and 'was he kinda hot or do I suddenly have a murderer kink?' and most importantly 'I'm never going to get that mac and cheese...'