Pedokiller

Chapter 2

When the police arrived I explained situation. I went to therapy and my family acted like they cared. They didn't. No one cares about a woman's anguish. If anything its just an inconvience. I appeared infront of a stern judge. He let me off with justifiable homocide. My life was never the same.

I was a figure head for women's rights. I went to feminist rallys and I told my bloodstained tale of torment and triumph.  They acted like I was some kind of goddess for killing a rapist. Perhaps a victim victorious is something of a great success; however, I felt used. I felt betrayed and disgusted like an old rag.

All the comments I recieved on social media. A network of raped women contacted me about my heroism. I was no hero just a ruthless killer with a cause. A just cause some might say but I was still a killer.

I dreamed of the man dying beneath my feet. I woke up laughing but my pleasure became tears. I felt simultaneous joy and despair. I was loosing my mind. I had become my darkest urges.

A year passed by and I faded into the limelight. I was fine that. I didn't need their approval anyway. I felt myself go numb so long ago. I had no friends and I had disconnected from my family. No one cared for me at all.

I was lost in a world of robotic sheep. People living online lies to premote the perfect life. When deep down they were just as mean as me. Dead men and women walking around in a graveyard society. No one laughs or talks they just stare into their cells. They're controlled and docile just the way the goverment wanted them.

Everything was just a click away. Adult infants with technological pacifiers. They didnt even feel emotions. They just shopped for boyfriends and shoes online. Selling themselves to a virtual world of materialistic comparison.

There he stood a six foot bag of excrement. I had researched him online. He was a convicted sex offender. A 20 miles drive and some stalking had paid off. I stalked him while he stalked them.

He was watching a young boy play outside his house. The jubilant little creature played with toy trucks in the mud. He played with himself in his pocket. I felt rage burn up my spinal cord and radiate through my face. He slowly approached his prey, and so did I.

His parents were no where in sight. They were probably too busy worshipping television or each other. I approached dressed in all jet black with an itchy ski mask drapped over my stone face. My eyes glared into him like the setting sun. He grabbed the child by his tiny wrist.

"Stop you're hurting me!" He screamed with horror liquifying in his eyes.

I burried an small hatchet into his head. He slammed the ground with thud. I yanked the bloody hatchet from his split head. Pulverized brains oozed from his cracked skull. The child stared up at me in amazement. I sprinted to my vechiles several blocks away.

I drove home in silence as sirens wailed. I yanked the ski mask and gloves off. No one ever suspects a woman of murder anyway. Its more of a guy thing which I used to my advantage. When I got home I showered.

I burned my clothes in the fireplace. I stood there naked beside those flames. I watched the clothes char black. I saw him. The little boy's face burning like hate. His tiny eyes filled with tears. I fell to my knees crying like a baby. I was his savior. I was his only hope so that he didn't turn out like me or him.