I dug my rugged shovel deep into the dirt, scooping up a large chunk of dry soil and scattering it along the corpse one movement after another. I had no time constraint, but I liked to play it safe. Thomas had gotten to be too much effort for me today, and I needed a fresh breath of air after everything that'd gone down. His psychoanalytics are the bane of my existence. Thankfully, there's something so incredibly freeing about killing one of your own kind.
It's the irony of it all that makes it so thrilling, in my opinion. Killing someone should land one in prison for a very long time, therein resulting in a complete lack of freedom, so getting away with the very thing that should take away all of my freedom made the freedom I have utterly exhilarating. I appreciate my lack of confinement even more when there's a risk of it being taken from me. I suppose that may be the very definition of 'thrill'.
As far as the actual deed of murder, it's not my favorite experience in the whole wide world, as surprising as that may sound. I enjoy the power of taking a life, that much is straightforward and clear as day. I fancy the colors, sensations, and sometimes even the taste of blood. But it's only this short space in between that I feel I am having a good time. Following the person beforehand can be aggravating and laborious, just as the ridding of their body. I hate needing to blend in with the world around me when all I want is a victim to fall right in my arms when I desire them to, and I wholeheartedly despise getting rid of all evidence despite how necessary it is.
An audible exhale forced its way out of my body as I stared at the ground, the body fully covered with natural dirt and debris in the deep, dry grave I had manufactured. I took out a gallon of water from my trunk and poured it over the dirt, causing it to condense into a mix of gravel and mud, cementing itself around the body underneath. Alas, it was not difficult to get away with murder. Not for me. Most people begin to panic or become too anxious to hide the body correctly, or they are merely unpracticed and unintelligent. I do things the uncomplicated way. I don't keep the body since I have no use for it, especially with Thomas around.
I would never kill Thomas. After our little affair and his bath, I tied him up and left the flat in search of some passerby to kill to blow off steam. It was only a slightly impulsive decision, I'd argue. My sixth victim is a woman, about thirty years old and petite. For someone of my stature, she was easy enough to forcibly poison and toss in a little grave. Now she is buried as deep in the ground as I am tall. About six feet, of course.
It goes without saying, but I'm somewhere extremely remote outside of the city. Hell knows exactly where, but it's a desolate section off the side of a forest preserve, unclaimed and dense with trees and foliage. If someone managed to discover her body, I'll be shocked, but I won't be caught. Either way, it's her fault for walking down a wooded area on her own so late at night for a quick jog in the cool nighttime weather. She's lucky I took care of her; for what if a hungry bear saw her and wanted to take a bite? Sardonic as that might've been, there are plenty of bears and wolves in these parts. I don't intend to stay here any longer than needed.
I loaded my tools inside my trunk and drove out of the car park where I'd left my vehicle. As soon as I turned onto the main road back -- which was empty for the most part -- I saw faint flickers of alternating colors; red and blue. At the same time the meaning of the flashing lights registered in my head, the sirens did too. I was the only car in sight, and a police car was in my lane on my tail, catching up to me. My first instinct was to check my speed, which was only a few miles above the limit. I began to think. My license plate is up to date, so that can't be it. I know that because I made sure recently. I was driving in my lane steadily, no swerving or sudden stopping.
I had no clue why I was being pulled over, so I had to assume the officer made a mistake or confused me for someone else. I pulled onto the shoulder and slowed to a halt, keeping my hands on the wheel and my seatbelt on as I waited for him to approach the vehicle. Footsteps came closer, and I carefully rolled down the window to look at the person who bent down to speak to me. It was a woman, actually. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and rather tall for a female I'd say. The first thing I noticed when she opened her mouth were her teeth; a perfect smile, like a celebrity's or a girl in a commercial for a dentist's office. As I affirmed prior, I do not keep things from the people I kill... but if I killed this woman, I'm sure her skull would look magnificent.
