Tempted By Control, Controlled By Temptation [ON HOLD]

Clumsy Little Me

Getting caught with blood on your hands next to a red-stained corpse is a lot like getting caught with a bottle of lube and with your pants down, or maybe like getting caught with your hand in a cookie jar.

Now for me, I'm a bit clumsy, so getting caught in the act is something not new to me. It's just that they aren't fast enough- or smart enough- to actually catch me. It isn't their fault of course- no one's ever caught me before.

I would consider myself relatively smart, insignificant, but smart. With the sort of hobby I have; I've got to be.

Like, for instance, it takes a smart guy to stalk a woman for about a week without getting noticed. It also takes a smart guy to lock-pick said woman's door, sneak into her home, re-lock the door, creep into her closet, and wait for several hours for her to arrive back home, completely unaware. Not only that, but it also takes a smart guy to know where, how hard, and how fast, to cut into someone's body varying on the amount of blood you would prefer.

Me? Oh, well I live for the messy scene.

Blood is beautiful, and holds so much artistic value. Why waste a perfectly good kill simply electrocuting them, maybe poisoning them? Why not just have fun and enjoy yourself, spraying gallons upon gallons of pretty, dark red, thick blood against the shitty pale yellow wall paper of a cheap hotel? Hell, just about one and a half bodies could paint a whole room. Potential! So much potential within our messy little selves.

She obviously didn't see me coming. No one does, and that is because I wouldn't let them. Her screams didn't travel very far by the time I had my hand wrapped around her throat, pushing her down and startling her with a goofily wide grin beneath the cotton of my mask. Her terrified, shocked-filled face was almost enough for me to be pleased with myself, but when do I ever stop there? I'm not known for stopping, and nothing about that current situation was about to change that.

Except there was.

Now, looking back at that situation, I could probably guess the mistake that screwed everything over. The one measly factor that flipped everything around. That changed the game. 

I hadn't killed in awhile you see, so this one was catharsis for me. Having a little fun was normal but I went a little overboard when it came to chatting with the woman's dead corpse- then proceeding to sing to it. It was the best audience I've had in months, who could give up the chance?

But I got a little too into it you see, because I didn't hear the quickly approaching footsteps until the front door had been kicked down. 

I guess her screams traveled enough for it to be an issue.