Serial Killer

When analyzing a serial killer many blame a bad childhood. I don’t agree.

Raised with two parents, never beaten or abused, normal siblings who were older and showed love and caring towards me, I was maybe a bit spoiled.

At an early age, I showed an interest in martial arts and excelled in everything athletic. In my late teens my interest in knives and guns began to grow. I traveled to all the gun shows in my area, interested in anything to do with self-protection.  
Then began my collection when a dealer sold me a Ruger SR9 with a grin and no questions asked. I went home and fondled it, thrilled with the pistol to the point of lust.
I read only about murder and chaos. My shelves filled with books on every subject to do with violent death that one could imagine. I read in detail when a murder occurred, even went to trials of people who had committed them. You could say I was obsessed with killing. 

My first introduction was when a co-worker turned against me when a promotion came up, she got it instead of me. 

I watched her for weeks, obsessing, one night I followed her home, waiting until I saw her light come on in her apartment. Giving her time to settle, I rang up, she sounded surprised but let me in.

When she opened her door, I pulled my gun telling her not to scream or make a sound. Her face went blank, not understanding what I was doing. Her pleading was getting on my nerves so I tied her up and taped her mouth. Her eyes bugged out, nothing but garbled noise came from her throat. I took out my knife and slashed off her blouse and bra. Now her eyes were full of fear. I wanted her to feel the distress and embarrassment that I felt not getting the promotion. My promotion.

She had poured herself a glass of wine. I put gloves on and drank it down in one gulp, then started to drink from the bottle as she whimpered, eyes pleading. The knife slid in so slowly she was hardly aware until it had punctured her lungs and the blood started to flow onto the floor. I sat and watched as her body went limp, her eyes a blank stare, then nothing. My heart was throbbing with a new pleasure. I took the glass and wine bottle with me. Never leave any evidence was to be my motto. I never kept any newspapers in my apartment to do with my killings either.

I became a hunting creature driving around late at night looking for opportunities. Women alone late at night, leaving bars on their own, hitchhikers. Vulnerable women were easy targets, very trusting and easy to start a conversation with.

One that comes to mind was an older woman who needed help with her groceries. She was so happy to have someone to talk to and invited me in for tea. She was spunky and lasted hours after I slit her wrists. I killed her stupid sniffing dog and purring cat while she watched. She never pleaded or spoke the whole time I was in her house. Her grey sad eyes just watching with disbelief.

I had fixated on women to kill but thought I would like the bigger challenge of men who would fight harder to stay alive. Therefore, I set out looking for the perfect targets. I came across one young man sitting on a park bench as dusk was arriving. He took a long time to die as I shot him up close. I thought he would never expire until I finally had to finish him off with my knife, not wanting anyone to hear two shots. I left him with an odd surprised look on his face as he started to slump over and looked like he was just sleeping.

My kills were getting too easy. I was getting bored, needing more excitement from my hobby. I would go back to my dojo as there were many well-trained men and women to pick from, knowing I would get a better combative struggle and fight before I slowly took them down. I always had the element of surprise.

The newspapers said the police had no suspects for the rash of killings. They released pictures of the victims who had died in the last six months under suspicious circumstances. Twenty homocides, my count was twenty-five. They had not yet found five of my bodies. 

Maybe I should let them know. 


The police kept arresting known violent criminals and having to let them go, unable to accumulate any evidence to keep them.

No women were ever arrested.

Guess I am safe for a few more.