Edited by: a very lovely @jgfairytales
Can you love a serial killer?
No?
Why not?
How would you know they were a serial killer?
It could be your neighbor.
It could be your friend.
It could be your lover.
Do you actually know the people around you?
T...
"When we see something like this, we forget the most important and most obvious thing...those butterflies will never fly again. It's unnatural, and yet it's so seductive. That's exactly the effect death has on some individuals. That's why serial killers exist."-DonatoCarrisi
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When the initial euphoria following the success of my self-imposed mission had subsided, I realized she would soon be waking up, and I wasn't ready to introduce myself to her.
From what I could see from the driver's seat, she was already semiconscious, and she was beginning to moan and move slightly.
All my thoughts were focused on keeping her asleep for the next few hours until we got home. I spotted a building with washed out colored walls. The glass windows shattered and the pieces lying on the ground. The wooden door already pulled from its hinges. The building didn't look inhabitable, so I pulled into it. Hoping that I wouldn't be interrupted or there would be no one present. Thankfully, it was empty.
Climbing into the back of the van, I reached for an unused syringe, filled it with 5 milliliters of midazolam and injected it intravenously into her arm.
As soon as I was confident that she had slipped back into her state of unconsciousness, I placed her body in the casket and closed it.
Once I was done, I pulled out of the building then drove to my motel to check out and get my luggage. In order not to draw unwanted attention, I parked a few blocks from the motel and walked the rest.
After I grabbed my duffel bag, I went to the reception to check out. It wasn't a problem telling the old lady at the reception I wanted to check out earlier than expected. I left the motel and walked back to the van, got in and started my drive to New York.
Five minutes into my drive, I spotted a junkyard and an idea struck me. I pulled over and reached for my duffel bag. Inside it, I searched for a wrench and flashlight. I always travelled with a wrench; you never knew when it would be needed.
