Curiosity Killed the Cat (Yandere Serial Killer x Male! Reader)

Into Your Own Hands

"Sadie Bryan, age 28, was found dead early this morning in an unfinished construction site in East Millsburg. According to the autopsy, she has been dead for two days. Reports show her body was mutilated post-mortem, with no signs of sexual assault, matching the deaths of four previous young men and women in the area. The method of the kill, accompanied with a polaroid photo of the presumed killer, confirm Bryan's death as the work of the increasingly notorious Millsburg Mutilator. Police have no current leads on the perpetrator..."

[y/n] sighed, running a hand through his soft [h/c] hair. News these days. He typically didn't watch it, seeing as it was all depressing politics and violent crimes that really had nothing to do with him. But these recent murders were right around his area, and it would be beneficial to hear about any updates. Luckily, none of the four - now five - unfortunate victims were people he knew.

He stood up off the couch and headed to the kitchen. Grabbing a can of soda from the fridge, he continued to listen.

"...have no clear connections to each other. The five victims may share a trait or two with one of the others, but police have been unable to find a unifying factor in them all. Victims have come from multiple sexes, races, ages, and economic classes."

[y/n] flopped back down on the couch, pulling the tab on his soda.

"The bodies, however, do have something in common." The boy took a swig, watching intently. "After slitting the throat to kill each victim, the killer continues, cutting deep gashes into the torso. He then takes a photo with the victim's corpse, leaving it beside them. Here is the most recent photo, of Ms. Bryan. Viewer Discretion is strongly advised."

[y/n] leaned forward, staring at the screen in morbid curiosity. The image of the anchor at her desk was replaced by a photograph of a photograph - the digitized version of the polaroid left at the scene. The edges were stained in red. A man in a comedy-style red and white mask took the majority of the frame, an eternal smile molded in the ceramic. He held up two fingers, as if posing, still holding a sharp-looking blade in his hand. Behind him, a young woman lay slouched against a concrete wall, eyes glassy. Blood streamed from her neck and torso. Wait a second.

[y/n] looked closer, squinting a bit. The woman's cuts weren't random. At least, it didn't look like it. Her body was cut with three lines, two across, one down, separating her into six spaces. Three deeper stab wounds pierced three of the sections, one in each, leaving three intact. Hadn't [y/n] seen something like that before?

"Police have not yet found if there is a meaning behind the patterns left in the victim's corpses. They do not match any previously known forms of ritual sacrifice or common symbol, and a code, if any, has not been identified. Chief of Police Gordon Jewett says, quote, 'there may not even be a meaning. This [beep]er is cutting up these poor sons of [beep]es, he's probably just a crazy'."

No, no, that can't be right. [y/n] knew he's seen something like that girl's body. He ran upstairs and dug through an old drawer, making sure to turn up the volume so he could still hear it.

"Police have yet to identify the killer, profiling the Mutilator as male, caucasian, between the ages of 17 to 25. His motive and selection process are unconfirmed, though it does not appear to be motivated by revenge, sexual gratification, or bias."

Here. [y/n] pulled a piece of thin cardboard out of the drawer. It showed 26 sets of lines - two across, one down the middle - with dots in some, each corresponding to a letter.

Braille.

He set the sheet down, grinning. He had always wanted to solve a murder. Cool. He picked up the phone, dialing the police.

"Hello, Millsburg Police. Can I help you?" A gruff voice sounded from the other end.

[y/n] cleared his throat. "Um, yes sir, I have a lead in the Millsburg Mutilator case."

The sound of shuffling papers and grumbles came from the cop, before he responded. "Alright. Name?"

"[y/n] [l/n]."

"Come on down to the precinct, we'll need to have you talk to the detectives. Do you know where it is?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Be here as soon as possible."

[y/n] opened his mouth to say something else, but the persistent beeping that began told him that the cop had already hung up.

He grabbed his phone and jacket, and headed off towards the police station.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

The interrogation room was freezing. [y/n] shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around him. He pouted, glaring at the Chief in front of him.

As soon as he walked in the door, he had been slammed against the wall and dragged to a holding cell. A cell! As if [y/n] were the criminal! He had been forced to share company with massive drunk-and-disorderly beefcakes, weasley little perverts, and a guy who just stood in the corner mumbling to himself. He had waited until an angry looking man in his 50s dragged him here - a room he knew all to well from detective dramas on TV. He wasn't an idiot, he knew that mirror wasn't a mirror.

"Tell me again how you know this?" Chief Jewett growled.

[y/n] rolled his eyes. "Like I said, we learned ways to be more accepting of disabilities in 4th grade. Wanna see my ASL, too?"

Jewett nodded. [y/n] hadn't expected that. Fine. He shoved his thumb between his index and middle fingers and touched the middle to his nose, then changed it to an OK sign as he moved it away. Piss off.

"And what's that mean?" the chief asked, quirking an eyebrow.

[y/n] looked away. "Uh," he lied, "How are you."

The older man stood up, hands on the table. "Alright, kid. At this point I'm gonna guess you're just messing with us, right?"

[y/n] stood up too, angrily. "What? No! I'm telling you, I saw the photo! Its braille!"

"This isn't a game, son. This is a real man out there who has already killed five people."

"I know that! I'm trying to help!"

"That'll be all. You can go." Jewett strolled to the door, pulling a cigarette out of his jacket pocket.

"Why won't you listen to me?" [y/n] yelled after him. The chief didn't respond. [y/n] growled, following him.

"I'll listen to you when you've got somethin' good to say," Jewett finally answered, pushing the young man out the door.

[y/n] wrinkled his nose and clenched his fists tightly. "Fine!" He shouted at the older man, anger clouding his judgement, "I'll solve this myself! And when I catch the Millsburg Mutilator, you'll be the one explaining to the people why you let a 17-year-old beat you at your fucking job!" He stormed away, furious.

Slamming the door to his house behind him, [y/n] fumed. He knew he had it right, he knew it. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea, solving the case himself. The [h/c] boy shoved everything off of his desk in a maelstrom of fury and enthusiasm. His new workspace. He pinned the braille sheet to the wall in front of him, in the corner. Now for some research.

He spent half the night reading as many articles as he could about the Millsburg Mutilator, printing out the crime scene photos available and anything else that could be of use. He stared down at the enlarged image of the man in the mask, grinning. I'll catch you, he thought, I'll catch you.