User:Giraffesonmars

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A Victimless Crime

A Novel

So it comes to this: Alone locked in a cell, for all of my misgivings. Who cares if more lay in the ground by my hand? They had it coming. Each one has a story to the murder. I have a reason as to why I had to kill them. I am serving 56 life sentences, one for all the known bodies; and I promised, for every year I serve, they will know the whereabouts of another. They say I was the worst female serial killer in the 21st century and I will go down in history. Since my days have been confined to be a caged dog, I have long realized my story must be told. My story along, with my victims that had to die.

THIS IS WHY

Victim #1; Walken, Mira; Police File #00267

Mira had it in for me from day one. As soon as I walked into the room, the insults began. I, being calm and collected told myself it would turn out fine. I only had to deal with her for 90 days in a class preoccupied by computers. My satanic back-bringing preceded me, and I was known only as bible-burner. Although it suited, I was weary for it to be treated as something for reasons of mockery; rather than my instability being feared, which was what I was going for. She made me the laughing stock of all her kindred, and she the voodoo doll of mine, I loathed her until my hatred became my obsession. I had to know her every flaw, her every weakness. Mira was already catching onto mine. Murder was hidden at the back of my skull, like an illness waiting to strike. When I followed her home after school, I found that getting around Fluffy, her vicious Pit Bull might be challenging. My mind was warped full speed into planning perfection. The details manifested themselves in my head, like a swirling black hole of annihilation. Although I figured I would never commit to anything.

The night grew darker, as did my intentions. I and a few close friends sat around a bag of Martins, passing it in a clock wards motion. My best friend, Katrina, helped dig my graves. That night she decided my nerves were on complete edge, and she thought a relaxing moment would help. But by that point I so was completely consumed by Mira's death that nothing else could instruct my desires. I found Mira's habits to be quite amusing. I found myself going out of my way to do things like her. Experts say animals that stalk their prey eventually adopt their preys' habits. I was just adapting to my most primal nature.

Mira would suffer. It was only fair; she filled my life with pain, so I would do the same. Not only would she now feel the pain she inflicted on me ten-fold, but as she would take her last breath, I would be the last thing she would see. I made sure of this. In months I perfected my plan of her murder. Not only would it be completely sanguinary, but I made utter sure there would be no trace evidence that would lead detectives back to me. In my trial they will say that the fact this crime was planned so meticulously had to prove against my sanity. I had the facts of her regularly schedule, that along with her father's and stepmother's. I knew the best time to strike was Saturday around ten p.m.. I knew she would be home alone.

Fluffy, was no concern now. I came to realize that this dog was a stooge for beef jerky, of which I gave plenty. The Walkens never locked the back door, which I walked through with no problem. Mira was watching 'Silence of the Lambs,' as if for all ironic purposes. In my hand I tightly grappled a scythe for sole purpose of her death. While she walked into the kitchen to refill her popcorn bowl I hid behind a counter waiting to strike. Once she was in full-frontal view, I jumped up, ran the blade of my scythe from the top of her neck to the bottom of her torso, and waited for her to fall. Her crimson blood spurt from the gaping aperture, and I bathed in it. Her pupils dilated with fear. It was as if she had just untied the tourniquet from her arm and the heroin was running a certain coarse straight to her eyes. With nothing less than the absence and union of all colour, she gazed straight into my soul, with a knowingness this would be her demise, and the fact that she brought it upon herself.

Mira's breathing became harder and her heart was palpitating at abnormally fast speeds. I roughly ripped her entrails, and heard a meek cry of pain. As I tied and suspended her with her viscera to the ceiling, dangling for the world to see, I became excited, and the rush went to my head. At that singular moment I knew that this was the first time I played god, but it certainly would not be my last. At some point after her death, her pendant body looked too normal. It needed to look as mangled as I felt. I took a large butcher knife from the Walden's kitchen drawer, and proceeded to cut slits inches wide into all of her untouched skin. I wanted to make sure that Mira was absolutely drained of the blood that had sustained her mockery of a life.

A tormented fate was the only end to a tormenting life. I got my justice the moment I knew she was almost unrecognizable. When Mira's parents came home they would see their precious baby hanging, and later pronounce it the work of her boyfriend. It would appear I had overlooked a major detail into Mira's life: She had an extremely abusive boyfriend; he had already hospitalized her once. Since they had just spent the evening together, his DNA was all over her. Her father had already thought he wouldn't have a daughter to come home to. It pleased me to know that I was going to get away, no questions asked. But another side of me wanted to shout, "I DID IT." In a way I would have given up my security just to have the recognition. My intelligence, beside good advice from Katrina, was the only thing that kept me out of a maximum security prison cell.

As I exited, my get away-ride was there waiting. Katrina at first was worried, but came to find I was extremely careful, and she too would embrace this lifestyle. Although afterwards, I committed many murders, most out of revenge, I would still look back onto this singular event as my braking point, and knew to what extremes I could excel.