Page 23 of No, For An Answer
I need to get out of here.
The Shadow
The muffled sobs of the woman in the seat beside me are beginning to grate on me. I haven’t even touched her yet and already she has snot dribbling from her bloody nostrils. I groan, dropping my head back against the headrest of the car seat. I swivel my body to face her, and she flinches.
“Listen, Jules… can I call you, Jules?”Nothing. “Perfect. Now, your voice, is reaaally annoying. I gagged you for a reason and that reason is so you would shut the fuck up. Anyone would think you’re about to die.” I pause. She pauses. Both of us just staring at each other for what feels like eternity. “Come on.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “That’s funny.” I search her face for any kind of reaction. Instead, she just starts screaming even louder.
Thrashing around in her restraints, like that’s going to help her. I’ll let you in on a little secret… it’s not. Her eyes shut tight as the tears fall from the corners and bleed out onto her dirt-stained cheeks. Wriggling in her restraints.
“Jules you won’t get out of this.” I groan, her screaming filling the car. “Jules.” If she carries on, she’ll get us caught and I don’t want our little date to come to an end so fast. “SHUUUT UP JULIET!” I scream, punching her square in the face andbreaking her nose in the process. Her head snaps to the left and she’s out like a light. Blood has splattered the car interior.
“Look what you did!” I shout, punching the dashboard a few times to get my anger out. “God. Fucking. Damn. It!” I punch the hard plastic with every single word.
Taking a deep breath, I release it slowly and turn back to face the steering wheel. I really need to calm down. My therapist tells me I’m doing well with my anger issues, and I plan on keeping it that way for the foreseeable future. This isn’t how I intended to spend my evening but well, here I am. Sitting in the car thinking about the woman I’ve now apparently become obsessed with.
The one next to me is just a filler, until I can find the right time to make my move. This is the second woman in a week. I’m never usually this desperate for another woman so close to the last. I’m parked in the forest just by Institute Woods. It’s late at night and I’m very close to home. I drove her here after I managed to convince her to let me take her home after our date.
I never operate this close to a well populated area either but as I said, I was desperate. I pull the latch on the car door, using my foot to kick it open because I’m fucking pissed right now. I could be watching my blonde beauty but I’m here with this mess. There’s one girl I want, but it’s too fucking soon so, yet again, I have to deal with this wretched cum bucket. This new girl, she’s perfect. Innocent and bubbly on the outside but I know exactly what she is.
I see her when she thinks nobody else is looking. She is completely out of my league and not my type. Where I usually go for brunettes, this one is a perfect blonde with the biggest fucking tits I’ve ever seen.
She’s phenomenal in the looks department too. I’m not into cannibalism, but I think I’ll save that heart. I jog the few steps round the hood of the car and yank the passenger’s side open.Jules slumps to the side. I lean in and press the clip on the seatbelt, and she falls to my feet with a thud.
“I really have to do everything myself,” I groan, sliding my hands underneath her arms and dragging her back against the treeline. She’s not struggling now, which thankfully means I can do what needs to be done. Nothing worse than being interrupted when you’re trying to get shit done. I’ll wake her up soon enough and then we can both join in on the festivities of the evening.
I drop her down at the base of the tree and her head smacks against the lard tree root sticking out. “Sorry, Jules.” Jogging back to the car I pop the trunk and wrap my hand around the leather-bound surgeon’s bag and slam the trunk shut.
Making my way back over to the little sleeping princess. I position her the way I want, then begin to unbutton the college cardigan she’s wearing. Now, let me explain something, I wasn’t born this way. I’m not like the typical serial killers that are born fucked up. I didn’t torture poor animals on my way to the top. I didn’t like to sift through dead animal carcass like Dhamer.
I’ve never and I mean NEVER skinned someone to make a fucking lampshade either. That’s some fucking sick shit. I just kind of woke up one morning and y’know, felt like killing someone. My first time was eighteen. Hitchhiker by the name of Angelica Jones and boy was she beautiful. I was driving home late one night, and I saw her walking backwards down a dark road with her thumb sticking out.
This isn’t the usual thing to see where I’m from, there was no one about and I was curious, so I stopped. I strangled her on a dark road exactly thirteen minutes after I picked up. Her beautiful green eyes widened the moment I knew she was about to take her last breath. Some of the blood vessels had already popped in the whites of her eyes.
I was relentless. Long strands of brunette hair stuck to the sweat on her face as the light in her eyes died out. Then, I satthere. Watching and waiting for something to happen. Some kind of fucking miracle that she would wake up and I could do it again. Spoiler alert, she didn’t. It was over far too quickly for my liking, and it was then that I learnt I had to be patient. Take things slow.
Make a woman feel good before I end her life for pleasure. It’s like then you’re engaging in self-pleasure, you don’t just go all the way in and start bashing the snake like a madman -some people do, but I like taking things slow- you have to work up to the crescendo. Learn patience and make time your ally. I could never bring myself to fuck her corpse though. I get the appeal, I guess. They don’t move, don’t fight and you can just pump away without having to ask them if they’re ok.
Once I read you can catch some form of dick rot when you fuck dead bodies, true or not, I wasnevertaking that chance. The cops call me a serial killer, I’m not. I’m more a man of opportunity. I don’t kill all the time, I’m also well aware that what I’m doing is completely fucked up and wrong but it’s like the first time you have sex.
No, you guys know the Pringles advert ‘Once you pop you can’t stop.’ That. It really is like that. So many people on this earth claim they can do it, but very few of them can. I take what I need when I need it, and tonight, I needed a fix. Because when I’m done here, I’ll go clean up and make my way over to see my blonde beauty. I crouch down beside Jules who’s still passed the fuck out, thankfully.
If that’s how she sounds when she’s being rooted then I think the men, or women, of the world are better off without her. I need to work quickly because as I said, I’m never this close to home. I travel out so I don’t get caught. Fingering the hem of the white t-shirt she’s wearing I rip it down the middle exposing a pair of perfect tens.
“Jules, who’d have known you had these bad boys underneath and no bra too. Dirty girl.” I smirk, smacking one of them. Watching it jiggle left and right. I need to stop fucking around and work. As I was saying, after spending time in the car with my first kill, that’s where I developed my desire for killing brunettes. It was nothing to do with my mum being a whore or a terrible home life, it was far simpler than that.
I just liked the way a dead woman with brown hair looked. The colour contrast best suited the imagery I like to remember. I’m not your typical man. I remember every woman I’ve killed, where I buried them and their names. I remember everything about the scene and will never forget their anniversaries. I’m just a romantic kind of guy.
Sliding the butcher knife from the bag, I slap Jules face a few times until she starts to come through.
“Come on princess, wake up. I need you with me.” She groggily rolls her head from side to side as her eyes begin to flutter open. “I need you awake.”
I slap her cheek again and her eyes meet mine. “Now listen, I need to make this quick, I have somewhere I need to be so can you please sit still.”
Her chest begins to shake as the sobbing takes hold of her. I almost feel sorry for this one. Almost. Raising the knife in my hand I bring it down with such force that it pierces her chest cavity. Her muffled screaming piercing the silence in my mind as I end this torturous date.
I lean over the knife and watch the blood weep from the wound and pool in that little crevice just at the base of the neck. Next, I grab the scalpel and slowly run it from one end of her throat to the other. The realisation finally hitting her that she’s never going to make it out of this situation. Never going to make it home. That look. Priceless. I yank the knife from her chest and smile.
I’ll let her bleed out while I get ready to remove the heart. Because I like to make things hard on myself, I could do this on an operating table in my basement, but I live in a place where everyone is so fucking nosey, I’d easily get caught. So, I make do with what I have and what I have is a manual bone saw. Throwing the knife and the scalpel back into the bag, I take both ends of the bone saw and get to work.
