I may be called psychotic, scary even. No one really knows why I turned this way, I barely even do. All I remember is my first kill, the joy, the feeling of great, great joy. Every time I get more joyful, it may not be normal but I can't stop now. My first kill was a puppy, a helpless, pitiful, puppy. I shot it's pitiful head, it rolled around on the ground and finally just died, still and unmoving.
I am a kidnapper, killer, and a mental torturer. I always lurk in the shadows of alleys waiting for the little kids to come home. My dark shadowy black hair surrounding my beautiful motherly features, easily tricking children into coming home with me. I lock them in a room and call their parents making the children beg for their parents to come get them by holding a knife against their thigh hard enough to leave a scar along with a trail of blood. The parents come along ringing the door asking me if I have their children. I say yes and lead them into a room next to their children's cell, with a thin but strong wall in between. Physically torturing their parents, I slowly shut down the children's minds with the screams of their loved ones. Most, drop unconscious from lack of breathing. I tie their hands behind their backs, put them in big trash bags and sink them in the well behind my house.
The police come around every so often saying that a death has lead them here, the never find anything. They don't know strategy like I do. No one ever guesses the well, and if they did, they wouldn't find anything. I put acid in the well to eat the body as well as other numerous things. As soon as they have their share at trying to find some source of an explanation, they die also. That's how it works, whoever comes in doesn't come out. They keep sending more, and then more and more and more die, until basically no ones left.
But this isn't even the beginning, I have something much, much better planned. No one will see it coming.
