In a twisted game of cat and mouse, a young woman becomes dangerously entangled with a masked serial killer she has been obsessively stalking, leading to a bizarre and clandestine relationship that blurs the line between prey and predator.
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THE GLEAM OF MY LAPTOP lights up my face. It casts shadows behind me in my dark room.
I've been reading a lot of articles non-stop about the masked serial killer: The Rabbit. The enthusiastic crime journalists finally called him that, after a local homeless lady allegedly witnessed him enter another house he invaded, and where he yet again brutally murdered the owners. She described what he looked like: Very tall, clad in black, and wearing that dreadful White Rabbit mask that's now far from being white since it was blotched with the blood of his victims.
The cops are conflicted about this profile. Although my description matches with the homeless lady, they're skeptical because she's a drug addict and schizophrenic. However, the journalists took this seriously and thus resulted to the creation of his nickname that then became infamous to the media.
Days after the homeless lady's investigation, her headless body was found in a ditch. The head was later found in a gift box sent to one of the journalists who pioneered his serial killer nickname. It was like a fucked up way to say thank you. It's fucking sick.
His design of the murders can sometimes be an act of display. He treats it like an art to be showed in a museum, or a picture to be posted. He wants the result of his killings to be grotesquely aesthetic.
For an instance, the news report on the three Magnotta Brothers.
The cops found the brothers in their own home with their bellies sliced open. Their bodies were hanging on the ceiling. Their intestines served as the hanging rope.
The laceration on their stomachs had details matching the combat knives they found in other crime scenes. It led them to a conclusion that it's his weapon of choice, like a favorite paintbrush an artist uses whenever he feels creative.
But I think, if he's really that creative, he wouldn't just limit his resources in making his "art". If he's that aesthetically fluid, he would be versatile. Therefore, I don't believe he only messes around with knives. He's too artistic to be that bland.
They are still figuring out his motive. But there are some articles claiming that its a gruesome vendetta on some people connected to the crime world. This accusation is sparked with the slaughter of the Magnotta Brothers who had a history of dealing methamphetamine, and heroin; the Whitmans who I saw him murder - guilty of money laundering and using their private properties to stash out the Magnotta's illegal drugs; and a dead politician that has yet to be named - involved in arms trafficking, as well as in prostitution rings.
I close my laptop to have a break, then massage my forehead. I've been at it on my bed since 8 pm, and now it's 2 am.
I munch a piece of dry cereal from my bowl, then take a sip from my glass of milk. Alexandra always finds it so weird, but I just love my cereal being separated from milk. That's my preference and nobody can't fuck with me about it - as much as nobody can't fuck with the Rabbit and his addiction in gutting.
