Australian Psycho || Lashton

Chapter 1

"We serial killers are your sons, we are your husbands, we are everywhere. And there will be more of your children dead tomorrow." - Ted Bundy

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I loved serial killers. Ted Bundy was my favorite serial killer. He had people throwing themselves at him because he gave off this... this charm. He manipulated people over and over, and I can only strive to have his charisma and his intelligence.

"Luke? Are you okay?" Officer Kelly asked me. I looked up at him, a small grin on my face.

"Yes. Now do you mind telling me why you asked me to come here?" I asked him, leaning back in my chair.

The officer nodded, giving me a thick file. He opened it and I saw the crime scene photos. "This man is named Jeremy Williams. He died of 16 stab wounds to the abdomen and genitalia. It is hard to tell which one was the one that ultimately killed him. He was sexually assaulted with a wooden foreign object, which was the handle of a bat found near the body." He explained, showing me the pictures.

I looked away, acting disgusted. "Why are you showing me these?" I asked him.

"Because Luke. Your DNA was found at the scene, and it linked you to the other 7 murders. Jeremy was just the latest." Officer Kelly informed me.

He was bluffing. Yes, Jeremy I was a bit more sloppy because I was on a time constraint. But the other seven I was thorough, and he could not link me to them. "I don't know what you're talking about! I knew Jeremy, we um... We were having an affair." I told him, looking down at my hands.

"He had a wife." Officer Kelly countered.

"Ever heard of a double life?" I snapped. "Look, we were together. But the other victims I had no idea about. I have heard of a couple of them, one I graduated with. I never went near their houses though." I told him.

He seemed... almost confused. I could tell his bluff and he knew I could. "What are your whereabouts on October 12 at around ten o'clock at night?" He asked me.

"What was that? Four months ago? I have no idea what I ate for breakfast yesterday morning, I have no idea what I was doing some random day four months ago. I mean, I can figure it out. Just look back at my calendar, see the day. I don't know if I was working, sometimes I work until midnight. But I will get back to you and tell you where I was. But I know, at least that night, I didn't go over to Jeremy's." I responded.

I kept a straight face, forcing my eyes to tear up. "Fuck, who the fuck did this?" I cried. I started making sobbing noises, covering my face. I couldn't cry.

Nothing made me sad enough to fake a cry. I felt nothing. 

"I'll be back." Officer Kelly tells me, getting up and taking the file with him.

I just remove my hands from my face and pretend to wipe off some tears. 

Fake empathy. Serial killers don't feel empathy.

But this is the ending of my story. It started two years ago when I could no longer control... control my impulses.