Diary of a Twisted Beauty

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just a quick example of my book I am starting. Let me know what you think and if you'd want to read more!

Submitted: November 15, 2016

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Submitted: November 15, 2016



What a night it was, thank fuck I am home. It was a really long, hard night on the job. This guy was big, not in the fat sense, just a big guy who actually if I am to be honest with you I think a lot of girls would find him attractive. Not the tallest, but sharp brown eyes with long eye lashes that gave me instant resentment towards him and also excitement at the fact I knew I was going to have him. He was really confident, clearly since it took him fucking 30 seconds after
noticing me to come over and offer to buy me a drink, how fucking original. Cunt. I don't really mind if the guy is attractive, ugly or just.. well average, the average ones don't annoy me so much because the way I see it, there looks don't really have much traits that stand out to me that send me into a hot, little ball of fucking resentment. So I try to stick with the attractive or ugly ones, and if the night is dry then there is always some average cunt about for me
to get.

So yeah, long night. Took me a while to get cleaned up. He was messy. I wasn't on my best performance, but I got the job done. If I had to choose the best thing about him it would be that he was a moaner. Nice, deep, helpless moans. I bet the cunt never thought I would be in control when he confidently swaggered up to me in the bar, which is not rare. Women get guys coming up to them all the time. I remember my Mum took me to a bar when I was 15 to prove a point. "Look and pay attention sweetheart" she whispered as I gazed around the room "look how men stare for a while, try to make eye contact and eventually make their approach, women can get any guy they want, especially you sweetheart. One day it will be you, you won't even have to do much work to get a guy. Just sit on a stool and look pretty" as I pinned my eyes on some clearly
middle aged fucker who was clearly going through some crisis approach a younger woman, "but remember" my Mum hissed "never, everfuck them sweetheart" her voice going darker, "Of course not Mum" I said as I drew my eyes down to my drink.

Are you still here? If you are and still haven't worked out who, or what I am then I think you should stop reading. Ok... I suppose I shall tell you. Me? I am a killer, or what I like to call a "hobbyist". Why do you think I say hobbyist? Because it is my fucking hobby. I am 19 now, living on my own. Mum died last year, it was fucking interesting to have someone who brought me into this earth, bring me up, feed me, educate me and teach me eventually die. Why interesting?
Because I felt fuck all. Nothing. Oh, I also have a thin scar starting from top of my left eyebrow, down to below my eye. I did it few months ago, looks sexy as fuck! Sorry, the attention was going away from me for a second there. I loathe that. But yeah, I kill and enjoy it. Only men though of course. Fucking idiots. Now I'm off to bathroom to clean this dried blood 
off my hands again.

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