What if You Were a Killer? (The Story of a Murderer)

The Name is Noah

Killing is fun. Period.

The itch to grab the neck of an innocent person and suck the life from their eyes, to steal their breathe, to watch them suffer from hopelessness and wonder. A terrifying, negative wonder in their scream and in their white and black orbs, that stare right at you.

Why...

Yet they will never receive an answer for they are long gone before they can even begin to imagine all the possibilities. To look back at what they've done in their life to "deserve" this. Why had god decided to give up on them? Had they done a sin that reached His eyes? The...irony of it all is...

There is no reason.

I have no personal rage or anger against any of my victims. Zero. I just kill for the thrill. To satisfy the lingering lust flowing through my veins. The lust for blood. Terror. Screams. Anguish. Oh...the list can go on. Just like any ol' murderer you see in movies like Friday the Thirteenth or Nightmare on Elms Street. Or that...what was his name...Jeffrey, was it? Ah! Yes, Jeff the Killer! How he went total psycho after almost being burned to death by what's-his-face. However, his insanity progressed after moving into that rich neighborhood.

That, my little reader, is completely wrong about me. My sanity is in check, unlike Jeff, and my way of killing is much different than Freddy Kruger or Mr. SlenderMan (if he was f---ing real. Surprise! He's not real, my dear readers. Don't worry, I've checked.)

Also another thing to add to this small profile of me; I was BORN a murderer.

Okay, let me start from the beginning. Don't be expecting it to be all "Oh my god!" Or "holy f---!" Or anything like that. It's pretty normal. Well, for me, at least.

It all started when I was born (hahaha guess who I'm quoting?). Was given birth at Parkland Memorial Hospital in Dallas, Texas and grew up in the small town of Wylie (real exciting name for a town, huh?). My parents died in a car crash when I was about...three? Yeah. And I grew up in an orphanage till the age of sixteen.

I do not remember my parents at all. How they looked, the way they behaved, nothing. I mean, c'mon, I was three. What was I supposed to remember? I do recall punching this kid for stealing my teddy bear, though. Agh...good times. But from what I was told by the caretaker of the orphanage, they were humanitarian. Loved donating to charities, were complete tree huggers, even made a peace-riot back in 1986. Too bad they died from one of their own "peace-makers." Dude was driving drunk and bam! Knocked my parents right off the edge of the cliff. Again, from what I've been told. I never made the effort to confirm that. Didn't really give a crap, perhaps?

Alright, on to orphan life. I was pretty much a loner. Not that I was a freak, I just preffered to be alone. I was the sexy, not to inflate my ego or anything, tall, mysterious orphan boy. I would push people away. Lack of trust? No. Insecurity? Definite no. I've been told by several that I was pretty good-looking and that was enough for me. The puzzle of my mind? Yes. What do I mean by that, you ask? Well, I believe it's time for a flashback?

I remember this one party, I believe I was around fourteen at the time. I had sneaked out of the orphanage and made my way toward a neighborhood not too far. It was a pool party to celebrate this chick's great 21's. Heh-heh yep. They were great alright. At least until I sent her to an never-ending slumber. This is what happened:

"Hey bro, pass me the bottle!" A random dude said, a big goofy smile splattered on his face. He was completely wasted, from head to toe. He held an empty beer bottle in one hand and the other was waving to an unknown person from across the yard. I watched from behind a fenced bush at all the partiers. This was going to be my second crash. Not that it was a huge deal or anything, but, for some reason, it was for me. Because I was going to make this one special.

I entered the crowded house through the front door in which I was greeted by the scent of alcohol, stomach acids, and rotting food. A typical college party. Scrunching my nose in disgust, I walk through the narrow hallways, bumping into couple's making out and drunkies lying on the floor like dopes, and into the yard, where a huge rectangular pool laid. The few not-so-drunk persons passing by sent me a glance before walking off or into the house. I trudged along towards the pool to my target. Alicia Fount. Aka Birthday Girl. She had tan-ish skin and long brown, wavy hair and was completely wasted in the pool, splashing around in a manner in which she called "Dolphin behavior."

"I've seen a bunch of dolphins on TV, sweetie, and they DO NOT act like that." I said in my mind. Brushing my hair back gently, I kneel down near the pool and call out to her.

"Hey Birthday girl!"

"Huuuh?" Alicia said groggily, her head turning to face mines, a wide smile on her face. She held a big bottle of wine in one of her hands. I took notice of that and said,

"Heya, babe, you shouldn't be in the pool with a bottle. You could break the glass if you hit it against one of the walls or something. I don't want you cutting your fingers."

"NAAAH. This is fiiiine! I won't break it, hot stuff!" She said, biting her lip in, what I assume, a seductive way.

"Maybe you should come in to make sure I don't cause I can be a bit clumsy at tiiiimes~" She giggled lightly at the last part. She turned to look at me fully and watched, seeing if I would go in. I smirked softly.

"Alright." I turned away from Alicia slightly and began stripping off my navy blue shirt and jeans. From the corner of my eye I could see Alicia leaning forward against the edge of the pool, checking me out.

"Yes. Just keep checking me out, sweetie." I said under my breathe, before almost fully undressing.

"Someone's acting cocky." Alicia said playfully, overhearing the muddered words. My smirk only grew wider at her statement.

"I know." I replied, cooly. I stepped into the pool, boxers still intact (You female readers thought I was going in naked, didn't you?), and swam towards Alicia. Who was still leaning on the edge of the pool, sipping from the wine bottle. She noticed me approaching so she turned around, that same drunk smile still plastered on her face. It was beginning to annoy me.

"You know, you have a really nice bod~" She qooed, running a finger down my chest. I held back the urge to slap her finger away and instead let the smirk I had grow wider. I leaned close to her face and whispered in her ear flirtatiously,

"But I bet you would love to see more than this, wouldn't you?"

Alicia giggled once again and nodded eagerly. I grabbed her hand and led her out of the pool, into the now almost empty house. Considering it was almost 3 a.m. most of the people decided it was time to leave, which was fine for me. Actually more than fine. It was perfect. I walked up the staircase near the entrance and into the first bedroom I saw. Alicia, after immediately stepping inside the room, was already beginning to take off her bikini top. I approached behind her and sneakily took the bottle from her hands. She laughed softly at the motion and leaned against my chest. I nibbled at her neck, her responding with a quiet moan. I nibbed up her neck to her ear and whispered lightly,

"Sweet dreams."

I hit the bottle against her head, the supossedly thick glass breaking almost instantely. Huge shards remained stabbed into her head and her body fell with a loud thud. Blood trickled from the wound, staining the dirty brown carpet. No...that's incorrect...the blood decorated the contaminated carpet. The liquid flowed throughout the floor in elegant swiggily lines from its heart. Alicia. I stared for a few more seconds before walking out of the bedroom and leaving. Of course, not without picking up my clothing.

Afterwards, I had heard from several of the sisters that Alicia's body was found about 10 hours after the incident by her parents, who were visiting from New York to wish her a happy birthday. So sad...

My name is Noah Axel Carlson and I am a muderer. However, I'm not like Jack the Ripper or Ed Gein. Hell no. I am far more...diverse than that. This is my story.

Author's note: This is my one of my first attempts at writing a murder story so please give me any advice you can. Anything I need to change or add. It is much appreciated. Thank you!