The Online Profile of a Serial Killer

Posted on September 17, 2022

Walking into my apartment for the first time in over a week, the smell seemed foreign to me, vaguely familiar. It was late at night. I didn't remember the last time I saw Will. Days maybe? Weeks? I wondered if he was home at all, and then I heard him in his room. Sitting on the sofa, I burnt through two cigarettes thinking about how I would tell Will, the man who changed my life, that I was kicking him out.

Second thoughts plagued me, but then just one thought of Marie washed away all other thoughts.

"Will!" I shouted.

I heard the sound of bed springs creaking and feet shuffling from behind the wall. His door opened and Will turned the hallway corner into the living room. He was fastening the draw string on his pajama pants. His hair was a mess and he looked like he hadn't showered for days. I motioned for him to sit beside me.

He sat down on the other end of the sofa. He reeked of hard liquor. His white t-shirt was stained with amber rum wet spots.

I butted out my cigarette and exhaled the smoke through my nose.

"Well?" he slurred.

"Something has come up. Something big," I said.
"Really now?" Will's drunken voice was drenched in sarcasm.

"Yes," I said, uncomfortable. "It's Marie..."

"Let me guess, she wants to move in here, and I have to move out. Is that right?"

"What?" I was taken back. I looked at him strangely, even scared. The answer was so random yet so definite. "Yes...how did you guess?"

Will suddenly stood up and disappeared into his room. He returned holding the neck of a bottle of rum. He shot back a swig before sitting down beside me, closer to me. Will grinned at me with closed eyes. "Want some?" He pushed the bottle close to my face.

"Listen, let's talk in the morning, when you're sober," I said, still baffled.

"So it finally happened for you," Will stopped me from getting up.

"Yes," I said, looking away.

"You found what you were lookin' for," he looked at me sourly – in a way that made me worried. Then he thumped the bottle of rum down on the coffee table, sat up with a grunt, and walked to the fridge. He mumbled to himself, his head in the fridge. The overpowering energy I had witnessed when we first met grew into a monstrous size, there in my kitchen. But it wasn't the positive energy I was familiar with – it was the opposite -- a negative and ferocious vibe. He closed the fridge and sat on the sofa next to me with a can of Coke in his hand.

I looked at Will and wanted to tell him something good. I thought about how thankful I was -- how genuinely thankful I was for how he's changed my life. "I want to thank you, Will, for everything. You really changed my life."

"Listen to you," he looked at me menacingly. "You sound like one of them."

I lowered my gaze, confused. He drank the Coke then chased it with rum.

"Can I have a smoke?" Will extended his hand to me.

I handed him a cigarette and my Zippo. He placed the cigarette backwards in his mouth, the filter pointing outwards.

"It's backwards," I said, but it was too late. He lit the filter.

"Hmmm," he studied the ruined cigarette in his fingers, broke it in half and threw it at the ashtray, missing it. "Got another one?"

I gave him a second one, and he did the same thing.

"My mistake," he reached out his hand to me again. I hesitated -- convinced he was doing it on purpose. I gave him a third cigarette. He put it in his mouth upside down again.