how it all started

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by sspookysarah

by sspookysarah

We probably sound like horrible people, but hear me out. Murder isn't just an act; it's a business. Everyone has a way of making money. Being successful. Saving people. This is ours.
It began as a one time thing. A young student of mine came to me after school in a hysterical fit. Her light eyes, greener than emeralds, were wide and filled with desperation. Her name was Judy.
"He's going to kill me. He's going to ruin me. If someone finds out, I'll never get into college. Please, help me."
Judy had been caught sneaking into the school's secret files and destroying the records on her passed mental instability from a couple years ago. Schizophrenic outbreaks. Screaming in the middle of class. Fainting after seeing something that was not there. Inability to handle stress. The man who had caught her happened to work part time at college admissions. He was less than understanding of her situation and planned to punish harshly. She was to be held back. I had to help her. She was an excellent student who deserved a chance at life.
I met the man at an Irish pub a few blocks away from the school. The man was short and bulging. He wore a tight blue shirt with a red bow tie. He was serious but loud. After we had drinks, he became louder and more enthusiastic. He talked of animals like horses and water buffalos. Afterwards, I brought him to the nearby alley way, claiming it to be a quick shortcut back to the parking lot.
I led the way, looking back every few seconds to make sure he could fit through the crevice. He was making it through with much difficulty. It was the perfect time to strike.
I pulled out a small pocket knife from my left pocket and quickly walked towards him. Stab him. Kill him. My arm moved forward, knife held tightly in my hand, and slid down through his heart. Again. Again. Again. He was dead after the first few stabs but I continued to thrust my knife into him. It was an out of body experience. I barely noticed the blood pouring from him, splattering my face and hands.
Afterwards, I realized what little planning had gone into this. I had no way of disposing the body. He was far too heavy for me to take him somewhere. I left him for the rodents and quickly ran to my car. No one had seen me.
Sitting there, I realized that I liked it. I enjoyed the feeling of power and control. I wasn't phased or nervous. In fact, I felt fine. Almost peaceful. I knew this wouldn't be my last.
From that point on, I began to recruit others like me. People who want more in life. An adventure. Many of them were my own students. Judy was the first. She paid me heftily for the first murder. She helped me form a set list of rules to our little killing committee.

1. You don't get caught.
2. You don't tell anyone.
3. You don't kill anyone in the club.
4. You leave behind no evidence.

In the months that followed, people gravitated towards us. It was as if they knew that we could get rid of whoever they wanted. We became God himself.

That power was addictive.

And I only wanted more.