killer chapter: 1Mature

"Tick, Tock" Another second of your life is gone, and there's another and another. Not long until I get to see the light dim from your eyes like I have so many before you, it is what I live for after all. The color of the crimson liquid all over, the muffled screams to silence, tense to numb. It is intoxicating. The sound of everyone at one point or another saying toughs words, "Please" along with the look on all their faces. From fear to panicked in seconds is my drug. I'm even hunting someone right now, for a few day now actually. It's name is Billy Rose, but it wont need that name for long. It doesn't have any close family, no kid, siblings and his parents died when he was around 15. The only person that would notice it's absence would be it's  ex-wife. It works in a cubical so it's life is not very fulfilling. 34, dark blonde, fairly wealthy, drinks roughly 2 drinks a night, no cell phone. Which is odd for this time and age but that's a minor detail. Once in a while it'll have a one-night stand over but only Fridays, and it will be Thursday when I get the job done.

   By the main description of serial killers I should be a 30-40's, white man, lives alone and has no one close right? Well in reality I am a 20 year old red headed female, I am white but I don' see what that has to do with anything. I have a boyfriend whom has no idea what I am but is only a cover like my dad taught me to have. You see he was a serial killer as well, fitting the main biography to the "T" but he had a kid, me. I work at a diner as a waitress, just enough to pay rent but also stay off the ridar. You hear the most interesting things working at a diner as well since it is a small town I live in, but I am no where near my hometown. My hunting grounds are in a larger city north from there, as I see it, it would be to obvious to kill anyone there. Everyone would make a huge scene about it.

   I must say people, others that live out there are very boring. They do the same things everyday, like Billy here. It gets up around 6:30 am, eats breakfast it's usual toast with strawberry jam, rushes out the door to get in front of most of the traffic. After work it gets home, warms up a T.V. dinner and watches the 8 o'clock news then has it's drink. After the drink it heads to bed. The same damn thing everyday, nothing changes. That is until the day that is coming up. The day I end his predicable and boring life. I unlike most killers of my type don't have a set type of person I set my eyes to. I haven't found it yet I guess.

  I can't kill him for a few more days but I need to, so I have to distract my inter monster with having a bonfire tomorrow, it's also a tradition during the fall to burn all the leaves at one of the neighbors. But it wont be a strange person I have no interest in meet, I'll just seeing my father again. He is a nice man and all, bedsides the fact he loves to kill anyone whom reminds him of my mother. When I was little I remember him being filled with life, I had always called him a superhero even after I knew he killed all those women. Calling him that made him smile even more, then he'd lift me up and put me on his shoulders to let me have a better view of what he was doing. It seemed as though I was the one person he didn't have to act around, he always said thins like "We are the only true people out there, sweetie." and "Once you start killing you'll be more well known the jack the ripper, and never once get caught."

   This would be the first time I've seen him since I started killing, it has been around to years now. He'll have that smile on his face as usual and ask me how my first time was. Then we'll stare at the fire as we always did when I was younger, it seemed to be the one thing neither of us wanted to kill. I should head back to my house for the night Billy just set the alarm and I already know how to disable that.

   Just one more day until the fire, it'll be ok. But I still can't sleep, maybe a bath might help. No, that would wake me up even more. I know, I'll go look at my trophies. All serial killer have them, weather it's a piece of jewelry from the hunted or even a body part we all have them. Mine are some fingerprints of them. I only have 5 right now, 2 female and 3 male. And in a few days I'll have my sixth. For whatever reason looking at them calms me down so I can sleep. I should get some sleep.

  In my dream, it's me and my father standing side by side. I had my kill room all set up, or maybe it was his. When I looked down at the table where our victim would be there was a little girl. Light red hair, bright green eyes, wrapped in the clear plastic, I was the one with the knife, but there was something about this little girl. She couldn't be more then 6, I was that age when I started going on hunts with my father. That was when it hit me, that was me on the table and I had already cut her cheek, and I didn't stop either. I slowly but surely cut myself up like I would anyone else, feeling no different about it as I looked at her raw flesh. When I was almost skinned to the bone from the head down I looked into her eye's and made my final cut, this one to the jugolar. One last tear slipped from my eye are that magical moment came. The eye's once filled with fear were numb and empty now. I put away the tools, feeling as I always do, despite the fact I just killed a little inocnet girl, a girl who was me.

The End

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