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...
"You learn what you need to kill and take care of the details... It's like changing a tire... The 1st time you're careful... By the 30th time, you can't remember where you left the lug wrench."-Ted Bundy
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February 21st, 2014
The long awaited weekend had finally arrived. I wanted to unwind after a stressful week. Not only had my workload increased, but also the emotional state of my mind went downhill.
I berated myself for letting the last kill get personal. Mistakes like that would get me caught, easily. The police had to work hard in order to catch me.
Imagine! I drowned her. To her, it might had been a terrible way to die. However, the satisfaction of a kill well carried out was not achieved. I had let myself down.
Add in the fact that she was the daughter of one of the richest men in New York and married to another rich man. Apparently, killing one of New York's elite would send the police hot on your tail.
As I sat in front of the television, staring directly at it, but having no clue about what was being shown, I thought of ways to decompress. I could sleep, watch a movie, or go clubbing. At the end, I decided on clubbing.
I planned on having fun, but not drunken fun. The secrets people end up spilling in their drunken state have gone on to haunt them their whole lives. In my case, spilling any of my secrets would end up with me being incarcerated. Who would then terrorize the people of New York City?
If by chance I happened to encounter anyone that would interest me in any way, by all means, I would go after her. The more reason I had to stay sober. All my senses had to be at alert. My best stress reliever was finding the right woman to spend the night with. No, not sex; the other thing.
I downplayed my looks; I didn't want to be conspicuous. In clubs, women tended to flock around men who they thought were good looking.
The club was a twenty-minute walk from my house, so I walked. As I stepped into the club, I involuntarily gagged at the smell of sex, alcohol, and sweat.
