The Real Bully

The Secret Room

Xander carried Anne's now dead body down the hall to the closed door with the blue light.

Poor Anne. Such a future ahead of her. A beautiful girl really. People were going to miss her.

Not that he cared.

Xander thought about his handsome appearance, how gullible girls like Anne regularly swooned over him then jumped at the chance to go to his apartment...and never made it out. Xander smirked. He wasn't interested in sex or love or any of that nonsense. He only wanted power, to indulge in a girl's vulnerability. He liked to have control.

Xander opened the door to his secret room lined with numerous containers. Each container held a body part—a heart, lungs, skin cells, hormones—that he stole from the girls he murdered. He took Anne to a corner of the room, put her on a wooden board, and dismembered her, sorting out her parts into new containers to add to his collection. After washing his hands, he grabbed a handful of needles in a box beside the sink, injecting himself with steroids to preserve his attractive and healthy appearance.

Xander used to be fat with pudgy cheeks and stomach that rolled far over his stretched out jeans. He had greasy blond hair and black insect-like eyes which preferred violent videogames over friends. He remained inside, hiding from the world that hated him. He had bad asthma and often coughed up mucus. Xander felt trapped by his poor health and insecurities about his physical appearance, trapped by how society perceived him because of his appearance. He observed how the most confident people were also the most beautiful and he envied them for it, hated them for how they mocked him for being less beautiful and less talented.

And then, he realized, that he could steal from them the way they stole from him.

So Xander killed people for revenge. Of course, he covered his steps. He had several different phones and credit cards. His address wasn't listed anywhere. And he had a well-respected job as the Quality Manager of a medical tubing company. He was the face of the company, the one who dealt directly with costumers. In fact, their product saved lives! Who would suspect him of murder?

But Xander did not only kill for revenge. He killed people to make himself stronger, took people down to bring himself up the way people did to him when he was younger. He used their body parts, their fluids, their immune systems to replace his own dilapidated body. He cultivated various body parts he stole from his victims to inject into himself, keeping himself healthy, successful, and powerful. And every day he became more handsome and stronger, causing girls to trust him more and making it easier for him to kill them.

Xander left the room with the blue light and returned to his bedroom. Despite his growth over the years from fat weak Xander to attractive powerful Xander, killing and dismembering still drained him. He showered, admiring how the water danced on his muscular chest, and ran his hands through his now shiny blond hair. He then changed his sheets—he needed to wash out Anne's scent—and snuggled under his crisp white sheets, sheets as perfect as his life.