Hello, my name doesn't matter. I'm sick. A sick man. I've don't horrible things. To good people. This is my confession, to atleast give a bit of closure to those families. I've killed 9 women. All of them young, aspiring smart women. But I took that from them. For my own sick pleasure. The FBI has been closing in on me for a year. I know they're getting close. I've left my house, and 2 days later it was raided. I'm hiding in ███ ███ ████ ███████ █████████ ██ ████ ███ ████ ██████. When this is released, that will likely redacted.
Why did I do these things? I don't know. I didn't kill animals when I was younger, except for the one time.
I was nine, and angry at mother. So I decided to get back at her for taking away my knife collection. So I went deep into the woods and found a rabbit den. I waited for hours until one poked its head out, so i grabbed it and strangled it. Hearing those squeaks made me feel things. The way it stopped kicking at my hands made me feel dizzy, but in a good way. So I killed the rest of the family. After I was done, I carried my collection to mother's room. I took the first rabbit and stapled it to the wall. The next few bodies were ripped apart, and then thrown around the room. By the end of it, the wall were covered in a thin layer of blood. I took the limbs and hid them around her room. When mother came in she was furious. I ran into the woods, but the belt was faster. I couldn't walk for a week. I think she cracked my skull, because I can remember feeling the side of my head leak onto the rocks. Whatever happened, I always remembered that day, and every event. Every future kill I got, was to mother, every dismemberment was to those rabbits, and every sprint from the sirens was towards those woods.
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WIP
HorrorJames Cultis is an infamous American serial killer, that terrorized the country from the 70's-90's. Though his rain is coming to an end as police close in on him. He has run away and is hiding in a warehouse to write his final memoir, to tell his st...
