The Online Profile of a Serial Killer

Posted on July 7, 2022

The townhouses that lined the street were all the same brownish color. I surveyed the numbers on the mail boxes of each house; 245, 247, 249. My nervousness escalated with each increasing number. I saw Marie's address -- 251. 

In front of the house, a balding man watered a small garden at the base of the porch. Hose water ran onto the side walk. I approached him, my feet slapping on the wet cement.

"Hi. Is Marie in?" I said.

The man pointed around to the side of the house. A big dog in the window next door barked as I passed. There was a wooden door at the side of the house with a tiny silver crucifix nailed to it.

I knocked twice, butterflies stirring in my stomach. Marie answered the door in a gray jogging suit, her forehead wet with sweat.

"You...you're early," she wiped her forehead with her sleeve.

"You said seven."

"I did? I'm...I'm so sorry. I thought I said eight," she motioned me to come in. Marie lived in a basement apartment, her door leading directly to a staircase going down a level. I followed her down the carpeted steps. The lights were off, and her apartment glowed blue from the television set in front of an elliptical machine.

"Sorry, I was exercising. It really helps... with my anxiety," she turns on the light in the living room and starts tidying up the cushions on her futon sofa. "Sit down."

"That's okay, I've been sitting all day," I crept around the small apartment surveying some items on the wall. An IKEA shelf held a few self-help books, from "How to Control Your Nerves" to "The Buddhist Guide to Christianity". Two golden elephant bookends held the row of books in place.

"Nice Elephants."

"Thanks," Marie said.

"Where'd you get them? India?" I said.

"They're just something I found at a flea market. You've been to India?"

"Sure," I boasted, my voice proud. "I love traveling. You've never lived until you traveled the world. Do you travel?"

"I... I wish," she said. "Flying is really hard on my nerves"

A statue of crucified Jesus hung on the wall. Jesus' face was drenched in so much agony that his eyes rolled up, his mouth hung open, and I thought that no one deserved to die that way.

"Do you want a drink?" Marie asked from the kitchen. She lit an incense stick beside a figurine of the Virgin Mary on the counter. I thought of Will and then forced myself to sneak up behind her, and when she turned around I took her by the elbows and pulled her close. For a moment, I was entirely disoriented by the feeling of being so close to the kind of girl I wanted to be close to. Her face tilted up, and then our mouths pressed together. I heard a tiny gasp come from her nose. My head dizzied, not really knowing what I was doing. Her lips were soft, and she parted them perfectly. I found her waist with my fingers, touching the strip of bare skin on her lower back, and slid my hands up under her shirt. She flinched, then relaxed.

Then our lips broke free and she looked down at her feet. I couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"I look like crap," she said, her ears blushing.

"No way, you're as beautiful as a cupcake." I said.

"I should get ready," her face glowed.

I pulled her in again and kissed her with everything I had.

I came home after midnight. I threw the keys onto the coffee table and they slid off onto the floor. I muttered shit and bent over to pick them up.