The Diary of an Inhuman Serial Killer

Last minute plan

When I checked into the hotel, the person over the counter gave me a key with the numbers 403 on it. I stared in the confusement. The guy asked "Are you with the lady that just came here?" Which is was not something you're supposed to ask. Literally anyone could've agreed to that then Sam would've have more to worry about than a hangover. I just nodded, wanting to just go take a shower and sleep.

The rest of the night isn't worth writing a whole chapter about. To sum it up, I found Sam collapsed on the floor. My best guess was that she tried to aim for the bed, but missed. I ignored her and took and shower, and let me tell you, it's amazing how great something can be after not being about to use it for a period of time. I changed into my yoga pants and a hoodie I grabbed from my car before entering the hotel, and I slept like a baby. The morning after, Sam was dying, which worked in my favor, since I haven't killed in a week and I was getting kind of tired. I left about an hour after I woke up, but somehow I ended up giving her my number. And four years later, she's now my personal alarm clock.

Going back to the present, Sam's been repeatedly calling me for the past five minutes. I reluctantly answered. "What do you want?"

"To you to wake your *ss up! Aren't you supposed to go to class today?"

"It's not for another hour, and aren't you supposed to be working, Ms. Cop Lady?" I mumbled, finally sitting up on my bed.

"Touche, just get to class on time." She replied and immediately hang up on me. I sighed and got out of bed. It's been two years since I've moved out of Sam's apartment, but I might as well still be there, considering how much she's involved in my day-to-day life. I grabbed my burner phone and checked my messages. There was one from Mason.

The money would be delivered at noon. Just like usual.

You've probably confused about this. Why do I need a burner phone? What's the money from? Who the h*ll is Mason? And the question to the first two is pretty simple. My main sources of income are from the dark web and the black market. I figured that if I have to go through all the trouble of killing people, I might as well make a profit off of it. Occasionally I livestream with my latest victim and people would watch it, and sometimes even give me donations. The money goes to Mason, whom's real name isn't even Mason, I have no idea what his real name is. Anyways, I have two not-so-legal ways of getting money: from the streams and giving body parts/organs to Mason to sell and he splits the profits with me. It might sound unfair that he gets half the money from the people I kill, however, all I'm doing is making the product. Mason's the one that has to pick up said products, try to sell them to people, find a way to secretly deliver it to them, all while he has to keep the body fresh. I don't mind splitting it 50/50, why would I? I get thousands of dollars to do the funnest part of the operation.

Mkay

I closed the phone and went downstairs to eat. I opened the fridge and grabbed leftovers from yesterday, two tacos with ground beef. It's been three weeks since my last kill, and my body is definitely noticing it. I don't know how to describe the feeling. It's like exhaustion but not really. The best way I can describe it is kind of like hunger. The longer I go without torturing/killing, the more "hungry" I get. My whole body is starting to feel kind of fuzzy and I'm feeling lot of fatigue. I opened of my medicine cabinet next to my pantry and grabbed my Vyvanse, I know it's supposed to be for focus, but one of the side effects, which is the primary reason why I use them, is that it decreases your appetite. It doesn't necessary stop me from the bloodlust, since it's not really "hunger", but for some reason it does help me last longer between each kill. I took a bit into my taco and took my pill.

I need to kill someone, and soon. I don't have more than maybe two weeks if I don't. I should've done something sooner but wasn't able to since Liz, one of my friends in my classes, keeps on deciding to tag along with me to the bar. And it's hard to try to kill someone if you always have a witness with you. I went outside and to my car, even though class didn't start for another hour, I decided it might do me some good to try to find my next person sooner rather than later.

As I was driving, I decided that to stop by a drug store near my school to get some painkillers. I don't really know why, but I felt like I needed to get some. I pulled up at a Walgreens and entered the establishment. And immediately I knew I was being watched.

I ignored the thought at first, because I knew they couldn't drag me out without me causing a scene, so I went to the medical aisle and started skimming through the shelves.

"Hey, beautiful, how you doing?" came a sudden voice behind me. As I turned around, I saw a guy at the end of the aisle checking me out. I admit, he's pretty hot, but I'm not interested in anything in relation to romance or a hookup. However, this f*ckboy could be of some use to me. I grinned, inviting him to continue talking to me.

"Better now that you called me beautiful." I replied. I walked closer to him as I looked for more medication, debating or not I should be getting some sleeping meds too.

"Well, it's true, trust me, I..." He started blabbering about the girls he dated and that they couldn't even compare to me. I could smell his bullsh*it from a mile away, but I just smiled as I picked up some sleeping pills.

He noticed the bottle I picked up and stopped mid-sentence, "Having sleeping problems?"

"I guess,"

"I mean, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, I feel like anyone could've guessed that." He chuckled as he pointed at my face, or more specifically my undereyes. Look, I always look like I'm tired, I have no idea why, and it only gets worse the longer I go without murdering someone or something. I knew he was saying that jokingly but for some reason that just made me kind of agitated.

"I mean you're not wrong," I laughed as I glanced over his shopping basket, I noticed a lot of soda, and I mean a lot of soda. The dude had like twelve bottles of Cola in it. "What you need all of that for?"

"It's my favorite drink, I'm probably going to drink it all before Friday anyways." He smiled, slightly embarrassed about his sugary addiction. We talked for about twenty minutes about some random bullsh*t, and as I paid for my items, he asked me out to a club nearby. Of course, I agreed, but not for the same reason that he has. I told him I was free and it was official. Looks like I won't be feeling crap for much longer.