Serial

Diary Entry: November 5th

Trigger warning: This part contains explicit descriptions of murder, rape and/or torture, which may be disturbing or triggering for some readers.

November 5th

I've truly outdone myself.

I know it sounds like I'm bragging, but today I made history.

This latest girl is my most impressive kill yet. Not because she was a difficult mark. In fact, killing Trophy Wife was as easy as picking off a pig in a pen. But what I did with her after she was dead—that was inspired.

True to her word, Trophy Wife was at The Mac tonight. By the time I got there, around ten, she was already tipsy and throwing back shots like a pro. The matching sweatsuit she'd been wearing while hiking had been replaced with a red dress the size of a handkerchief, her naked flesh peeking out everywhere.

She hadn't seen me when I first arrived, which was fine, because I wanted to get a few drinks in me before I got to work. As I drank, I planned the best way to lure her out of the bar without anyone noticing me enough to describe me to the cops later.

That's the problem with going after a girl in public. There are more chances to be tied to her later. It can be incredibly dangerous.

But beggars can't be choosers.

And I'd been looking for an opportunity to show the cops that I was smarter than them. Going after Trophy Wife out in the open would be the ultimate fuck you.

Trophy Wife liked to dance. In the middle of the floor. With her girlfriends. On the bar. Alone. The more she drank, the more she danced. As I watched her, I thought about what she'd said that day on the trails. That panties were optional. I couldn't tell from where I was sitting, but I believed her. Which meant there'd be easy access.

I could've just fucked her. Screwed her silly and then left her to sober up somewhere. Prolong the hunt, maybe have her a few times before I disposed of her.

But if not her, it'd be someone else. I had to leave someone for the cops to find, and Trophy Wife was as good a victim as any.

She was jumping up and down to music that was blaring out of the speakers behind the bar, arms up in the air, her fake breasts bouncing around like a porn star. I got this perverted flash of what it might be like to use her as a human dartboard. I wondered if the dart hit her chest in the right spot, whether her implants would explode, make a popping sound like a balloon. It was fun testing out the theory later.

After finishing my fourth beer, I got up from the booth in the corner and made my way over to where Trophy Wife and her friends were dancing around. Moving in and out of the crowd, I walked up to the bar, waiting patiently until my target picked up her drink and took a long swig before going back to dancing. Now knowing which drink was hers, I strolled her way and surreptitiously slipped a cocktail napkin underneath her martini glass. Then I continued to the back and out the door to the alley.

And waited for her to come to me.

I went through my texts as I stood in the shadows, even responding to a few messages I'd been putting off. When I finally heard the door squeak open a few minutes later, I put my phone away and stepped into the light.