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How messed up can a serial killer's mind be?

Submitted:Aug 7, 2011    Reads: 78    Comments: 11    Likes: 6   

I'm sitting here, by that river. I haven't been here since a while. And I just love coming here, no one else ever comes here.
The river is getting even more beautiful with every time I visit it. It looks grateful...
I'm sure it's thankful for all of those beautiful corpses I've been feeding it. Bloody bloody red... I still see how the blood was taking over the water, from the last time.
The forms it would create on the water's surface... Beautiful!
"That woman next door..." I whispered to myself. I'm longing for her flesh. I need her... Every bloody morning she wakes up at 5AM goes to work at exactly 6:45AM, and comes back at 4PM, unless it's a Friday. She goes shopping at Fridays, I even know her favourite shops... and music, and food... I know her better than anyone else. The funny thing is, that she doesn't realize how close I am...
I can even see it! I can... I can see it:
It's exactly 1AM, she's asleep. I break into her house, as quiet as possible. I turn on every light on my way to her bedroom... By the time I find her bedroom, she'll be awake and scared to death. Probably putting on her slippers, but before she walks out of the bedroom door... I'll be there. I'll roughly push her on the bed. Her screems would give me pleasure, and her hot blood running down my hands would make me feel alive... that's why I needed to kill her.
She's on the bed, panicked, crying. And I'd just grab her wrist as I force her to stand up, she'll try to fight back, that's when I hit her across her beautiful face. I hit her again, and again, as she cries, trying to escape... but I'm holding her too tightly, so it's impossible. Her lips start to bleed, so does her nose, but that's not enough. I push her against a wall, and hit her again, she falls on the floor.
I walk out of the room and start searching for her bathroom, after I've found it, I go back to the bedroom. She has stood up, looking for a phone, maybe.
I pull out the knife out of my pocket. I grab her, and I start playing around her face with my cold, clean, sharp knife. I wasn't going to do anything until she screamed. Then I'd make a slight cut behind her ear, and I'd continue to trace the knife across her jawline, leaving slight, bleeding cuts. Not paying attention to her hysterical screaming, I force her to come with me in the bathroom... In that clean, white bathtub... I'm going to slice her neck, and drown her in her own blood.

She's just too beautiful to be thrown in that river. Well, now I have planned everything. I know what I'll do with her. I'm seeing it over and over again in my head.
I need to put some red lipstick on her beautiful lips... slight cuts under her eyes... my initials craved in her back... I need to paint the floor with her blood; the walls with her brains.
I need to feel alive again.
It started getting windy and cold, so I stood up from the ground... Tonight, at 1AM... Too bad she won't be expecting her life to end so soon. I'll make sure her death is even more bloody beautiful than she is. I slid my hand in my pocket to make sure my knife was there, and then I started walking home.


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