The first victim was pure coincidence. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her name was Elena Moore, or at least that's what her ID said. She was going on a walk, she only had twenty bucks with her. She wasn't dressed for anything either. Just jeans, T-shirt, and a jacket. Some boots for the snow covered sidewalk. He didn't mean to kill her. She just died.
He was dumped. After five years of kisses, a text message ends it all. It happened on that same street too. Elena seemed naive enough. He took her to a coffee shop. They made out in the alley. His pocketknife came out of his jean pocket. He left her cut up when he was done with her. The snow buried her body. Some guy tripped over it taking out the trash.
The second victim was intentional. The bitch clerk wouldn't take his credit card. He had to pull out some cash. So inconvienent. Her name tage read Racheal Peterson. He decided to take her somewhere. It took longer than the first. He wanted to kill her with the motor running, to drown out the screaming. For a week they had a fling, then he flung her over the cliff and into the gorge. They did it to metal. Screaming mixed with screaming, plus the motor. They never found her body.
The third victim was an opportunity he took. She had just gotten dumped in public. In a library actually. Such an odd place. Crying over a guy who just didn't care anymore. Called her a hassle. She told him her name was Cindy Crawford. He had this one last a month. He felt sorry for her. But he was getting back at the world. He found out he had AIDS. Dumb bitch left him a damning surprise. It was that same day he killed Cindy in her house. Just beat the shit out of her. Bloody mess. He wiped himself off on her sheets and left. Arrested at the front door. Turns out some neighbor had heard her scream. There was still traces of blood on his knuckles. He couldn't clean all of it.
He told the police he just wanted to kill somebody. He almost strangled the detective. He had nothing else to confess. They were sure he killed the women for some other reason. He just wanted to kill somebody. The trial came, and his attorney got him life imprisonment rather than execution by lethal injection. But he took suicide. Found a sharp piece of metal. Stabbed himself. He made sure to make a bloody mess.
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2 comments:
your stories are preeetty dark. they're good though. you're a really good writer. i'll keep reading as long as you keep writing.. deal?
Yah. Unfortunately, this isn't always fiction...
Do you know who you remind me of? Edgar Allen Poe. (That's a compliment by the way.) He's actually one of my favorite authors, despite hiw grusome, disturbed tales.
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