Story cover for Made for ruin by xKai_x
Made for ruin
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Ongoing, First published Sep 15, 2022
Writer & serial killer. friends maybe more? Meet June a High school student in a small town, writing book for the town to read until so unexpected problems start coming up and one night things turn for the worse. I mean it's just a small town right? nothing could go wrong 

Warning: This book does contain so dark themes and maybe some Nsfw in the future. 

Contains: 
Nsfw 
Dark themes
Killing 
Home invasions
Mental health
All Rights Reserved
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Killing Is Thrilling  by duncanchurch97
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'The night was alive with silence. I moved through it like a shadow, black leather gloves tight on my hands, boots soft against the grass. My gas mask hid my face, leaving only darkness where my eyes should be. The world narrowed to a single point: the house ahead. Tonight, it would belong to me. The farmhouse rose stark and white beneath the moonlight, silent except for the occasional grunt of a pig or the low hum of a cow. They were unaware. They were insignificant. I crouched behind the hedge, eyes scanning, senses alert. Every detail mattered: the flicker of light across the curtains, the faint rustle of movement inside, the way a shadow shifted across the floor. She was there. Oblivious. Popcorn in hand, murmuring to herself as the television flickered. Every motion was a note in tonight's symphony, and I was the conductor. I studied her, cataloging. Timing. Patterns. Fear. She didn't notice me yet, and that was perfect. Patience was everything. One sound, one misstep, and it could all unravel. I rang the doorbell once. Silence. Again. Still nothing. She flinched slightly, just enough to make my pulse quicken. Her small reaction was delicious. A sudden movement in the yard caught my eye-a neighbor's dog barking at some unseen intruder. Its voice was loud, startling, but contained. I froze. My breath slowed. Patience. Observation. The dog's curiosity would pass. I remained still, hidden in shadow, letting the moment stretch. The animal lost interest and padded away. Perfect. I moved to the back of the house, hammer in hand.' ...
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"How do you feel now, Morgan?" She says, more pointing something out than asking a question. She grabs hold of my wrists and tightens them. If I could see properly I could swear I see them turn purple. "I could beat you to the bone, right here, right now, till you die from your injuries. But, I won't. You will die. Maybe not today, maybe not in a month, but you will." Well, obviously I'm going to die. Humans don't live forever. "Wonder why?" "No, and I really don't care." She answers anyway. "Because we have the power, the people, and the weapons to do it. Face it, you're defenseless against us." I feel some blood flooding my mouth, so I, being a perfectly nice person, spit it in her face. That doesn't faze her at all. "I have the strength and intelligence, something you clearly don't have. Whatever y'all do to me, it won't break me. I will put up a hell of a fight before losing. I will fight, and I will win." I turn over and look at her fellow companions. "Even if I die doing it." "Is that a risk you're willing to take?" ____________________________________ 17 year old Morgan Peters is an average girl living life. When she goes on a trip to Rio de Janeiro to watch the FIFA finals with a few friends, a serial killer committing massacres joins in on the sporty fun and shows the thousands of fans what true adrenaline is. After the games and a few bumps along the way, she returns to her hometown, and shortly starts receiving suspicious texts from an unknown number. She figures that it appears she has a stalker on her hands. Can she live with a stalker? Or will it get more mendacious, chaotic and deadly? Follow Morgan and her best friends as love sparks, secrets get released, and betrayal of family floods through their veins. ALL NAMES, INCIDENTS, AND SOME EVENTS ARE PURELY FICTIONAL! OTHERS MAY BE COINCIDENTAL. All rights reserved.
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Killing Is Thrilling

47 parts Complete Mature

'The night was alive with silence. I moved through it like a shadow, black leather gloves tight on my hands, boots soft against the grass. My gas mask hid my face, leaving only darkness where my eyes should be. The world narrowed to a single point: the house ahead. Tonight, it would belong to me. The farmhouse rose stark and white beneath the moonlight, silent except for the occasional grunt of a pig or the low hum of a cow. They were unaware. They were insignificant. I crouched behind the hedge, eyes scanning, senses alert. Every detail mattered: the flicker of light across the curtains, the faint rustle of movement inside, the way a shadow shifted across the floor. She was there. Oblivious. Popcorn in hand, murmuring to herself as the television flickered. Every motion was a note in tonight's symphony, and I was the conductor. I studied her, cataloging. Timing. Patterns. Fear. She didn't notice me yet, and that was perfect. Patience was everything. One sound, one misstep, and it could all unravel. I rang the doorbell once. Silence. Again. Still nothing. She flinched slightly, just enough to make my pulse quicken. Her small reaction was delicious. A sudden movement in the yard caught my eye-a neighbor's dog barking at some unseen intruder. Its voice was loud, startling, but contained. I froze. My breath slowed. Patience. Observation. The dog's curiosity would pass. I remained still, hidden in shadow, letting the moment stretch. The animal lost interest and padded away. Perfect. I moved to the back of the house, hammer in hand.' ...