Her Murderous Gasconade

Her Murderous Gasconade

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Dec 24, 2017
(Under Editing) The horror in their eyes; the screams, the pure terror. I loved it all. I indulged the fear they felt. Perhaps my favorite part of it all was the diversity. No victim same; always a uniqueness that left me feeling accomplished after each hunt, like a student who'd learnt something new. I wasn't always this way; a killer, a goddess, an angel of death. It started when I met him.
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I met him on a Saturday night. It was dark, and unusually warm for a spring night. I ran into him in the woods near my house. I was the only victim he ever spared, not because he felt sorry for me, but because, as he had told me later, it was "Love at first sight, and also my first and only love." "I guess some people are worth not killing," I had replied, with a chuckle and small smile.

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