The Peach Killer

#1

I push the sliver blade In deeper. Knifes aren't usually known for their excellent murdering capabilities, but getting to be up close and personal with meat chunks gives an amazing satisfying rush. You can get a more precise carve of anything you want on a human.
She struggles a bit, body limply and absentmindedly failing about. Pathetic. I pant harder as I pull the knife out of her convulsing body, she really gave me quite a chase. I lick my knife, fimilar metallic tang of blood then lick my lips and smile at my handiwork. I'd taken the time to remove her jaw- she was being quite yappy- to the best of my abilities, I was pretty weak, and couldn't cut all the way through. So I tore the rest off and left it next to her dead eyes- brown- how boring. Three deep gashes in her chest, those are always my favorite, sinking it into them and watching their face widen with fear then scruch in pain. Her long brown hair was all over the place, it looked like fire burning her alive. She had such pretty hair. I cut off a small section and stuff it in my pocket, a trophy.
I take the blood stained knife and stab her dead body one more time for good measure, I stab it into where her heart should be, and attempt to twist. I'm stopped by her ribs.
I look up, the sun was setting, it was time to make my way back home. I run my hand through my curls so I could get a better look at the body. So beautiful. I smile wide, that makes one more purified. I wish I had time to get a look at her insides, but it was time to go home. Tommorow, I get to find a new victim.
I take my jacket out of my backpack and put it on top of my bloodstained clothes. Pity. My jeans we're dark enough as to deter suspicion. I throw my knife in the bag and make my way out of the alley, and try to remember to pick another way to school tomorrow cause cops'll be swarming the place.
I keep my head low on my walk home. Around this town, I'm known as "The Peach Killer" A nickname I'm quite proud of, I think it suits me. I earned it because I was sloppy, on I think my third murder, and when I was licking the blood of the handsome man from the library off of my knife it cut a lock of my freshly dyed pink hair and left it at the scene. Somehow, I got away with it, probably because our senior detective in our small town is some old shit who can't tell where he left his fucking brain. My hairs faded since then, going more platnuim blonde with pink kinda there. But I got the name. Every other murder in this town has been credited to me, which is true, but give others some credit. It's been almost four years now.
But no time to dwell, sleep now, school tomorrow, hopefully, there will be some fresh meat. I heard someone moved in on the other side of the block.

A/n

Heyo! This is my first story on here, so feedback is much appreciated and sorry it's a little short. Too grousome? Not enough? Excited to meet our local telepath? And would you guys be interested in art for these boyos? I hope y'all have a nice day, and stay safe!

~Madi🌻