homicidal >> mgc

Chapter Three

Her name was Grace Maybelle and she was only 15 years old with the dream of becoming a designer. She had already managed to score herself a scholarship to the top designing school in Australia.

Michael took the life of a young girl away. In a way, Michael was just like this girl. They both had hopes and dreams about becoming a somebody. Before Michael became fascinated with murder and torture, he wanted to be a singer-songwriter but now, he wanted to be a feared killer. One that the cops would never catch. But he knew that sadly, all dreams die sooner or later. He was going to make he dreams last, he was sure of it.

They found Grace Maybelle in the garbage can after a kid had ran into it and tipped it over. The kid screamed his head off until a passing police officer came to assess the situation. The head of Grace stuck out of the garbage can and that was enough to close down the park. Headlines in the newspaper  this week were things like: New Serial Killer on the Rise? or Keep Kids Close to Home.

Michael walked down the hallways of his high school, the hairs standing up on the back of his neck as he noticed police officers at each turn. He kept his head low and stayed with a pack of kids, attempting to keep attention away from him. Each police officer look upon the pool of hormonal teenagers and thought the same thing; it could be any one of these kids.

Michael felt like the cops kept looking at him, like they were skeptical of Michael, almost as if they knew he did it. But that was just the nerves getting to him, he told himself about a million times that they weren't even glancing his way. He knew that he would never be caught.

School went by quickly for Michael, which he was more then grateful for. One more minute inside of that brick building would have made Michael go mad. He couldn't handle the thought of getting caught any longer. A rush of relief washed over him as soon as he stepped out of the school. He plugged in his earbuds and started walking home.

Walking home was a time of thinking for Michael. It was a time where he thought about his next victim and how he would end up killing them. He wondered about the crime scene, how much blood would be on the ground, how many body parts would be scattered over the ground, what the officers faces would look like after seeing the victim. It brought him pleasure to think of others disgust in what he had done. He wondered if some other sick, twisted people admired him, or thought about Michael the way someone would about a celebrity. Did some people fantasize about watching Michael kill? Maybe some other people thought about it the same way Michael did, he knew he wasn't alone when he thought about things like this. There had to be other people in the world that liked killing the same way Michael did, there just had to be.

He got home and rushed up to his bedroom, turning on his laptop to look at the latest news. He searched Grace Maybelle on Google and a bunch of new articles popped up on the screen. He clicked on the latest on and read through it very quickly, skipping over things that he already knew.

He clicked on a video titled Grace Maybelle; Mystery put to Rest. He was intrigued at the title, there was absolutely no way that they found her killer. He knew this because there were no police officers banging down his door. A news lady appeared on the screen, dressed in all brown. Michael thought that she would be fun to kill.

She held a large microphone to her mouth, "Grace Maybelle, a small town teen who was brutally murdered on March 26th had finally been put to rest as her murder had been found." Michaels eyes widened at the statement this lady had brought to his attention. There was no way this was happening right now. He balled his fists up in anger and clenched his jaw.

"Grace Maybelle, 15, had been interacting with a man by the name of Jean Brousheel, 26, over the Internet. It has not been made clear if they were in some sort of relationship or not. Police forces have looked into the messages they sent back and forth and have found some pretty convincing things. 'I can't wait to meet you and have fun with you' and 'your body will be all mine' were sent by Jean. There are even more disturbing messages that have officers convinced that Jean was set out to meet young Grace and harm her physically. " She spoke as if she were some sort of robot. The video was then cut to a different shot of Jean getting arrested with the same lady speaking over it. "Jean was then arrested on April 1st and is being charged with 3rd degree murder. He will serve life sentence in the largest jail in Australia."

That was enough to for Michael. He slammed his laptop shut and threw it into his bed. He got up and repeatedly punched the wall, jealous that someone else was being framed for his work. "It's not fair!" Michael screamed, kicking his bedroom door hard. He loudly stomped downstairs and into his garage before grabbing a hammer. He wanted to smash somebodies head in and watch them scream.

He gripped the hammer tightly and ran out of the house, grabbing a coat on the way. He flipped his hood up and concealed the hammer inside his coat. He went into the bad side of town and lurked near a dark alleyway. It was dark out and only very few people came out at night on the bad side of town. He peeked his head around the corner and saw only one person coming. As they passed, he grabbed them by the collar of their shirt and threw them against a large dumpster.

The man screamed, shielding his head with his arms. Michael took out his hammer and swung at the man, hitting him hard in the jaw, leaving it dislocated. The man scrambled on the cement, trying his hardest to run away but Michael swung the hammer again. Michael hit the man in the knee, bringing him to the ground again. He repeatedly swung the hammer into the unknown mans knee, each time more and more bone broke. Blood gushed out of the multiple wounds left on his one leg, but Michael wouldn't stop hitting him over and over. He wouldn't stop until the leg was completely dismembered.

"Stop! Stop!" The man hollered, tears and blood splattered on his face.

Michael ignored the mans pleas and stood up, towering over the defenceless man. He lifted the hammer over his head and plunged it into the mans skull as hard as he could. The man was instantly dead, blood starting to seep out of his nose and skull. He ripped the hammer from his skull and set it on the ground. He then took out his pocket knife and kneeled beside the man.

He flicked the knife open and it gleaned in the pale moonlight. He ripped open the mans shirt. He carved the words I killed Grace Maybelle into his chest. He grabbed the mans hand and dipped their finger into their own blood, writing the word Grace on the dumpster beside him.

He stepped back and looked at his work. He stared at the man like he was a sculpture put on display in a museum. If it was going in a museum, Michael decided he would call his piece "night shift."

The man he had just murdered was a short, black man who went by the name of Andre Tresmol. He was 31 years old and he had one kid and a husband. Of course, Michael did not know this and he didn't care. All he cared about was people knowing that some idiot named Jean Brousheel did not kill Grace Maybelle.

Michael ran home, ignoring people who gave him confused looks. Nobody thought he was a deranged serial killer, they all thought that he was just some kid maybe just playing with some friends.

When he got home, his mother still wasn't back from work and probably would be for another hour or two. He ran upstairs and threw all of his clothes into a washing machine, putting in a ridiculous amount of laundry detergent. He then went to the bathroom and furiously washed the hammer, getting every blood stain off of it. He then hid it under his bed and decided that he would put it back later. He jumped into the shower, washing any human remains off of him. He scrubbed his body until his skin felt raw, until he felt sure there was nothing on him. Michael almost felt bad for killing Andre, almost.

When his mother arrived home, Michael was acting normal again as if nothing even happened. As Michael relaxed, he felt every little bit of guilt and regret leave his body and it was replaced with a sense of pride.

There was no going back now. He was committed to being a killer.

this is my first time writing in third person and publishing it so I hope it's not too bad. SoRRY this took so long to update I haven't had wifi in like two weeks. So I'm using Canadian tire wifi to update

Guys I'm so SIcK like I have bronchitis I haven't been at school for a week :,)I just hope I get better before graduATion

<<Sorry if this was too descriptive or if I used your name. Please do not take this too seriously, it it just a work of fiction. Thanks for reading.>>