The Online Profile of a Serial Killer

Posted on September 19, 2022

The bar was so dark that I couldn't see the coffee in my own cup, which was a good thing, I thought. It smelled like shit, tasted like shit, and if I could see it in proper light, it would probably look like shit. Soft sounds of salsa music played in the background. There was a sticker of Ren and Stimpy on the cash register behind the bar, and the smell of fried onions hovered nose level throughout the place.

I looked over my shoulder at the scattered tables, looking for Will.

He must be here, I thought. He must have been Itchie all along. My blog -- that is how he must have found me. That night -- that screwed up night when I told him to move out – he knew about Marie before I could even say it. I revealed everything in my blog -- my thoughts, my memories, my plans.

My fingernails drummed on the varnished wood of the bar, and I surveyed the room desperately. There were two gay men holding hands at a table by the wall. They were leaning towards each other and talking. There was another man playing pool by himself, and another lone figure with a baseball cap texting on his phone in the corner. I glanced over to the other end of the bar where an old man with finely combed hair was drinking a martini and flirting with the male bartender. The old man was skinny and wore the kind of tight v-neck tee a young hipster would wear.

Taking my coffee with me, I walked down the bar towards him. He noticed me and smiled, as if he knew me, but I had never seen him in my life.

"Itchie?" I said.

"Have a seat, honey," he patted the stool beside him and licked his lips. Getting a closer look, I could see tiny black studs on both his ear lobes, and his wrinkled skin was spray tanned orange.

"Are you Itchie?" I repeated.

"Yes, darling, that's me, that's me." He took out an iPhone and placed it on the bar. The young bartender wandered away. "But you can call me Daniel. We're offline now, you know."

I took a sip from my coffee and tried my best to hide my disappointment.

"I love your blog, especially the part with you jerking it in the bathtub." He puckered his lips like a duck. "You naughty boy."

"How did you find my blog?" I said.

"The same way I find everything. With a gust of luck."

"Do you know Will?" I asked.

"Will?" he looked confused. "Oh, you mean the character in your little story. Is he cute?"

Dane's iPhone vibrated on the bar and he checked the screen, giggling and sipping from his martini. I took another swig of coffee, thinking of a way to apologize for the confusion and leave.

The young bartender was pointing a remote control at the small TV set mounted on the wall above the hard liquor, and flipped through channels with the volume muted. He eyed the TV, and then me.

I glanced around the room. I noticed the man playing pool was gone, and so was the man in the baseball cap. I felt an uneasiness creep over me.

"Where was I?" Dane rested the iPhone back on the bar. I was about to say something, but the words stopped at my throat as I felt Dane's hand rubbing my thigh.

I jolted up, the bar stool falling over behind me.

"Excuse me," I darted to the exit, the coffee cup still in my hand.

Behind me, I could hear Dane screaming over the salsa music. "I could be Will if you like."

In my condo, the smell of fried onions stuck to my clothes. I was no closer to finding Will.

The aftertaste of the coffee reminded me of Daniel – pervert Daniel – creep Daniel. He mislead me, toyed with me, just so he could grope me – that fucking perv.

I opened my blog and looked through Itchie's comments from earlier posts. I clicked "block user" on Itchie's profile and a wave of comfort flowed through me. Itchie will remain the same, a generic voice in the background. Itchie will always be Itchie, and Daniel will no longer exist.

I was up for over twenty four hours. I had to sleep. I had to get back on these pills, just for that moment, just so I could sleep. I took two pills and waited.