Chapter 1
Saturday, the 1st of December 2012
My name is Nick Harley. Well, at least that's what it says on my birth certificate but inside there's something more. Something darker. As only victims see, seconds before they meet their untimely demise at my demonic hands. The most recent, a young woman. An unfortunate soul who had the worst luck of travelling alone in the dark. I had spotted her as I stalked the night streets for my prey. I had concealed myself in the shadows of an alley and waited until she had hurried past. I followed her as silently as possible. Then I was close enough. I wrapped my arm around her carotid artery and cut off the oxygen supply to her brain. She was unconscious in seconds. I checked if anybody was around. Then, certain there wasn't, I slung the woman over my shoulder and lugged her to my car. I bound her hands and gagged her. I locked her in the boot of my car, then drove to an abandoned warehouse where all ten of my victims had spent their last minutes. She would make the tally eleven. When she awoke, there was terror in her eyes. There was also confusion. She was innocent. She had no reason to be there but there she was. Fate was a cruel mistress. I had tied her to a chair when she was still unconscious. That was much easier. I had a thin piece of piano wire. It was strong. If it had enough force, it could easily cut through a limb and that was my intention. I started off at the wrist. I wrapped the piano wire around it and tightened. It came of with a sickening pop. The blood was torrential. Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened, wanting to scream but the colth in her mouth prevented her from doing so. I then did the same to her right foot. Her face turned a ghastly shade of white. Before she lost consciousness, I wrapped the piano wire around her throat. Then tightened. Her eyes bulged so much I thought they were going to roll out of her skull. I tightened it even more and although the pop was as sickening as before, it was followed by a thud as the piano wire cut through the feeble resistance provided by the flesh of her throat. The head rolled on the cold, dark floor and came to a stop so that the eyes were staring. Staring at me. Then they closed altogether.
I don't know why I do it. The need to kill and mutilate is overwhelming. I don't do it for pleasure. There's just a longing inside of me. Some dark desire that I have to satisfy otherwise it will drive me insane. There is no explaining it. It just is. Everybody has their cross to bear. This is mine. I have had this urge for most of my life, but over the last couple of years, the urge has got stronger and stronger and now i am struggling to control it. I feel myself getting weaker. It's only a matter of time before the urge overcomes me but hopefully it'll be too late. Hopefully, I will be dead and the urge along with me.
