I’ve been looking for a partner in all things for so long that I don’t think I ever wondered what would happen if I found someone who fit the bill.
You all
remember Ben. The boy toy who gives good head? Well the funniest thing happened
last Friday. I was on my way home from work and feeling horny so I decided to
stop by Benny Boy’s work at the library – because yes, I am fucking a sexy
librarian – but his coworkers said he had just started his break. I went around
to the staff parking lot, hoping to catch a quicky before he was back on the
clock and I saw him walking around the corner so, naturally, I followed him.
And I kept
following him and I kept following him. Suddenly we were on the other side of
the train tracks in a poorly monitored area of the city – something I clocked
very early on in my stay here. My first thought is that he had some sort of
drug problem which is technically none of my business but it might cause some
tension.
But I was
proven wrong when he walked up to a man on his smoke break, spoke to him for
about 30 seconds, shook his hand, and then walked away. The man suddenly began to
have trouble breathing, he then collapsed to the ground as though he had no
control of his limbs and shortly after, he died. I’m amazed I didn’t clock it
sooner because it’s a method I used to use all the time – although it’s
definitely become less popular in the post-pandemic world.
There’s a
vein in your left palm that people used to say connects your ring finger to
your heart. Science says that’s not true but there are some lovely veins that
do travel through your wrist and make their way back to your heart with few
detours (Casey says it’s the cephalic vein which made me laugh for 20 minutes).
With a little prick, you can send poison almost directly to their heart.
I had to
keep following him after that. I just had to know. But obviously I wasn’t
as sneaky as I thought because I suddenly found myself dragged into a mall
entrance and shoved against a wall.
I have
never seen Ben looking so feral. So dangerous. So. Fucking. Hot.
I asked him
where he got his hands on botulism and that seemed to stun him to his senses. We
went for coffee, sat in the park, and we talked. For hours. He told me about
how he started poisoning residents in his grandmother’s nursing him when he was
a teenager. To him, what he was doing was a mercy and the more he looked at the
world, the more he realized more than just the elderly were in need of “mercy”.
He’s been killing people ever since. Not as many and not as often but he enjoys
it. I could see it in his eyes as he talked about the woman last year who bled
from her eyes. He was so passionate as he talked about his victims. I told him
about my own career, or at least the highlights. Something to let him know that
he can trust me because we’re the same. After a while we walked back to the
library – and yes, he just skipped the last half of his shift but he hasn’t
been reprimanded yet so I think his coworkers think he was just getting laid
for 4 hours.
He did but
much later (and not for 4 hours, jesus christ).
On the way
to our vehicles, I demonstrated my own passion for the craft by stabbing a barista
in the femoral artery. The way he looked at me… only James has ever looked at
me with such desire. And admiration. I have never felt so seen.
We have a
date tonight. We’re going down to the river to find a late-night jogger and
kill them. Together. I haven’t had that before. A partner. Someone who
understands how it feels and why I love it so much.
I know how
incredible it is that we’ve found each other. There are about 4000 active
serial killers in the world and of the 7 billion people walking around, the
odds of two killers finding each other is… astronomically low.
Feels a
little bit like fate.
As always,
dear readers,
Stay Safe
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