I want to
tell you about one of my favourite murders.
I was in my
twenties which was a very weird time in my life to begin with. I was only a few
years into killing and still finding myself. But also I had even fewer inhibitions
than I have now and felt like I had nothing to lose. Which I kind of didn’t. I
didn’t have the kids, I didn’t have my husband. It was just me and a butcher
knife making my way in the world. It was also a great time to experiment with different
murder techniques.
Come on,
everyone experiments in their twenties.
Like any good
college girl, I met a boy at a bar. He was already too inebriated to make any
real decisions and was way too handsy for his own good. So I left. And I waited
until he left an hour later. He was alone – I think I remember him saying
something about a bad breakup and drinking his sorrows away. Could have been a pickup
line but I don’t know. Whatever, he was alone. And it really wasn’t difficult
to get his attention down the street and offer to drive him home.
Or wait,
no. I offered to take him back to my place. Something about a warm place to
spend the night. I flirted with him is the point and because he was drunk and I
had breasts, he hopped in the car without even asking my name.
You can
guess what happened next. I didn’t drive him home. I drove him to the middle of
the woods and told him were gonna play a game of hide and seek. I made it sound
sexy (I can be sexy, you guys) and he went stumbling off into the dark forest.
I mean,
seriously, the boy was asking for it. Made it way too easy.
I didn’t
wait for him to hide, of course, I immediately started following, only half-disguising
it. To his credit, it only took him a few minutes to realize that this was less
of a game and more of a pursuit so he took off running. I mean, it was noble of
him to think he could outrun me in the middle of pitch-black woods while he was
three sheets to the wind (side note: where did that phrase come from? Does
anyone know?) but I caught up to him easily enough and tied him to a tree.
Do you
remember the kill kits I used to burry in the woods around my old town? Came in
very handy for times like this. Just had to find one and I set about preparing
my scene. I made a big show of setting out stone and sticks to make it look
like some crazy ritual. Blair Witch Project had only come out a few years
earlier and I was banking on Drunk Boy not realizing until it was too late. But
the police would absolutely think it was just some nut copying the movie (which
it kind of us but, you know what I mean). I spent the entire time talking to
him about how I would gut him and eat his entrails to appease the gods and his
death would mark the coming of the apocalypse and other shit like that. P.S. I
want to apologize to the Pagan community for my past self. I played into a
stereotype for personal gain and that shit’s not okay.
But at the
time it did work. Just as the boy was about to wet himself from fear, I just
started laughing. Like hysterically laughing in the middle of the woods with
him tied to a tree. I then assured him that I was not about to kill him for
some ritual. Just as he took that big sigh of relief, thinking it was all some
awful prank, I stabbed in the stomach. I got right up to his ear and told him
that I was killing him for the fun of it.
The look in
his eyes kept me going for months, even as I killed others. Fear, relief, betrayal, shock, confusion, and
maybe a little impressed (though I may have been projecting).
I
discovered that the old joke about how playing with your food makes it taste
sweeter is absolutely a thing. Knowing I could pull all those emotions from him,
how powerful it made me feel, it was a little intoxicating. It also kind of led
to my addiction that almost destroyed my 30s but at the time, it just felt
amazing.
I’ve always
liked – needed – control. Being able to control the narrative. Control who dies
and how. Control someone else’s emotions. Murder is just a delicious extension
of need and desire wrapped into one.
And right
now, I could do with a little control.
As always,
dear readers,
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