The Thoughts of a Serial Killer

Chapter 8: Like a God

The FBIs describes a serial killer as a person who commits at the least, three murders. It came down to it on this day. I was simply sitting in the park, watching the children play. Their expressions of pure joy made me feel warm, it was true innocence. What a beautiful word, innocence. I would have loved a childhood with the innocence of these children, fuck, my mother ruined me. A child approached me with a smile, Do you want to play tag? Obviously I was not very interested in the idea of physical activity with a small child, but his smile somehow made me smile as well. I nodded, we played. His father came to him and told me to get away from his son. I was only playing with the child, why such anger on this mans face? He asked me to join him with his walk to the back of the restrooms, I agreed for the walk would give me a chance to explain my intention was only to play tag with his child for he was the one who asked me to join. We arrived to the restrooms. This man swung a punch. I had a very fast reaction so I had time to dodge his blow. He looked me down with pure anger. I know what you did.... What I did? What did I do? I I couldnt complete a thought for this man was unbuckling his pants. Where is this going? He threw his belt to the ground and said Lets see how YOU like a giant dick in you. This man was obviously insane or a violent homosexual, or both. He wasnt threatening my life, why would I fuckin take orders from this man? As I turn my head to his shoes I saw out of the corner of my eye a glass soda bottle. Litter can be of assistance at this time. I got down on my knees acting as if I were listening to his orders. I picked up the bottle and smashed it against his head. He stumbled and grabbed the side of his head that been struck, I broke the bottle on the restroom wall above the water fountains. A rush just took over, a rush I couldnt control, I was in love once again. I look over at the man I run to him and pull his hair to make his head lean to the right, exposing his neck. I drove the broken bottle into his skin multiple times, the way the blood spilled was not as slow as my fathers had been. This mans blood was light, almost pink. I could read a book through his blood for it was almost transparent. I left him there, no one was around. I went into the restroom and cleaned blood from the bottle. I broke it completely and flushed it all down the toilet. Damn, I was officially a serial killer. Youd think Id be scared, emotional, but no there was a sense of power. I fell in love with this new feeling. I knew I could take a life, like a God.