The Artist
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Complete Thu, Mar 7, 201313m
Horror story of a cop trying to catch a killer.
It was all over the news; a serial killer in my home state of Washington! The killer travelled around the western side of Washington, towns like Renton, Seattle, North Bend, and so on. I was watching the news in my apartment; they called him the Evergreen Killer. The police would not divulge the details of the killings; all they could say is that he had an artistic mind. Great I thought; there are tons of artists in Washington. In addition the police revealed that the reason for these killings may have been a period of depression he recently went through; maybe his art being resented by someone he cared for, or not being seen. I noticed that as the police continued on they mentioned artist a lot. This got me curious; I searched for body artists in Washington. Assuming that the killer did some sort of artwork on their body. Then I cross referenced any with medical experience. There was a list of about 180 people. Maybe my list was wrong but I decided to email the list to my friend at the police department. Since the killer had crossed multiple county lines the FBI had come to work with each of the lead departments.
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#15
skinning
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𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭| 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 |𝟏𝟖+
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Why did he kidnap me? This happened 3 months ago. Many times I have tried to escape the clutches of his rough hands. Many times I have cried for help. But I need to get stronger in order to escape from him. Now, three months later, I think about this, but now my feelings are different. I wanted to kill him, to make him suffer the way he made me suffer. "Do it, kill him!" Is what I'm thinking. "Kill him and it will be over. I will be able to escape." The mask that was hiding his identity looks at me as I hold the knife to his throat. The whole time I been wondering why I didn't just slit his throat. He told me to do it, to finish him but I couldn't, I just couldn't. I couldn't hate him for the times he whipped me or raped me. I just couldn't. I looked at him holding the knife to his throat with a shaky hand. No matter how hard I try I can't hate him. No matter how hard I try I can't get the knife to slice Reidson's throat. Dropping the knife on the floor I look at his face. I couldn't see his eyes because of the white mask. Now the same hands that used to be so rough became soft and warm. He still beats and rapes me but I figured out why I didn't hate him for making me suffer like this with these same hands that hurt me so cruelly are now touching my face gently. I held his hand to my chest as I look at his masked face. His hand is stained with blood. My blood. I look at his face, I have fallen into a cruel love.
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