Challenge #02455-F265: Murder Most Satisfying
What if someone was addicted to murder? They had to kill someone one out of necessity, but enjoyed it too much. Now, they want to stop, but it's hard. -- Anon Guest
You know all those hokey old serial killer dramas? The ones where the murderer always says that killing's a rush? They were right. There's no thrill like it, you know.
I know that watching the light die from that bastard's eyes was the closest I could get to heaven without dying first. I know for sure he won't be going there. I'm... I'm not to certain about me. See, most of the time I'm perfectly ordinary. I do things like everyone else, but...
Once in a while... sometimes a long, long while... I want-- no. I need to kill. As the song says, there are so many assholes who just need killing. Well. The song doesn't say that in as many words, but the spirit is there. I know there are horrible people in the world. We see them every day. We're taught to ignore them.
The first time was my abuser. I drove his body out to the middle of nowhere and walked home. Let the bears grow fat off him for all I care. The world didn't miss him. I swore I didn't know where he was when the few people who came asking about him did actually ask. Four months later. In another two I was coping without him just fine.
I took his job. I spent his wages more wisely than he ever had. I was just starting to put my life back together and then... then my boss started to get handsy, saying that I could have everything I wanted if I just let him do what he wanted. Sure, I could have reported him to HR. Sure, I could have done any number of things. Except, he didn't wait for permission.
I swear, sometimes, abused people just have this sign following them around that only other abusers can see. Once someone gets free of one hurt cycle, another one zooms in to start again. He was friendly at first but really... aren't they all? Evidently, he'd got tired of being in the friendzone and decided to break down my barriers. I broke his nose. Did you know that the nasal bones, broken with enough upward force, can pierce the brain? I didn't.
Since I was definitely upset and definitely in a state of disarray when the police came, it was a clear-cut case of self-defence. Besides, the dumb asshole decided to attack me in full view of the office security cameras. There was a visual record of the entire thing.
After that? I guess you could call it a bad habit. Like, I have a bad habit of meeting "Nice Guys" who turn out to be manipulative, abusive dinguses. I have a bad habit of calling them out on their bullshit. I have a very bad habit of killing them when they least expect it.
It's a rush, every single time. There's nothing like it. The excitement of the stalking. The thrill of the kill. The look on their ignorant, piggy faces as they realise that I am not just any other victim.
It's glorious.
I won't go into the disgusting details of body disposal. This isn't that kind of confession. Let's just leave it at the fact that pigs will eat anything and I'm more or less best friends with a bunch of feral ones. Okay? Okay.
Thing is... I want to stop. I'm sure all this murder is bad for my soul, but... I can't help noticing something. For every asshole who goes to join the non male chauvinist pigs, there's like ten women who smile more. Ten women who have a happier day. Ten women whose lives are easier by just that little bit because some greasy entitled skeezo is no longer in this world.
There's no news about them going missing, either. Turns out the perennial abusive manipulator is the kind who changes locations easily... and is also the kind to skip out on rent as they latch onto some potential sugar momma and then drain the very soul out of her one cruel word at a time.
The world does not miss them... yet I want to stop.
I could just... not murder any more. Explore cohabitation with a nice lady, wear lots of flannel and keep cats. I could. It's a possibility.
The trouble is...
...and I mean the real trouble...
For every asshole I end, there's always two more. Pushing their way into my life, telling me how I deserve a nice man in my life. Giving me opinions I never asked for. Telling me I could be so much better if I just gave them everything they want.
I might deserve a nice man in my life. It could be true.
I'll let you know if I ever find one.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Alexis84]
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Dexter seems to be a nice man, though I'm not sure what kind of match that would be if they're trying to overcome this particular addiction without turning themselves in XD
Not sure these two would get along though...