Chapter 1
LUST
The Artist
The Lover
The lover stumbled as he looked back at the dead night, the salty water sliding down his back. He stopped to have a drink from the bottle of alcohol in his hand. He was going to die. He had accepted that but at least he wanted it. The lover had always never gotten anything he wanted as a child, but that never stopped him from wanting more and more things. The few things he wanted and got; he immediately didn’t want anymore. Then he realized that his hunger was in the chase and barely in the catch. It was the same with everything in his life: food, toys, sports, games, women, men, and even murder. His parents thought he was highly skilled, motivated, and hyperactive. They were proud whenever he mastered a new skill and moved on to another, but were worried when the same applied to having friends. His whole life was filled with fleeting pleasure and excitement but nothing ever satisfies his hunger. So he tried everything and anything. At the age of 18, he was skilled in Kung fu, running, swimming, chess, painting, drawing, poetry, dancing, etc. Sometimes, he thought his lack of sleep contributed to his insanity. He was an artist and a charmer by nature but he was not naïve. He knew he was not normal yet he enjoyed how sex was the closest thing to satisfaction for him. At first, he would just stalk people but then, he started sending creepy messages and gifts. They were his desire, the fear in their eyes turned him on. But someone was copying his style. He hardly kills people to warrant such attention and had already decided to stop, his baby had put him off for good. The bodies were only two; they each had the same poem attached to them. But both killings were at different locations. The copycat knew details that even the cops did not know. So, he had been on the lookout for him. It was ironic that he was finding a way to reduce his pain when he always enjoyed inflicting pain. Black could not imagine he would be murdered on the street like a dog. He always knew he will have a gruesome death like the one he gave people. He walked past an alley that was usually filled with people. He wondered why locations usually filled with people would suddenly be empty because of murder. The lover saw a bakery and it hit him as the place he killed his first victim. The bitch kept on screaming and begging for her life. “Please, please don’t kill me. I have two kids, they need me.” Even as he stabbed her, the bitch kept on pleading to be left alone. There was a sudden ache in his pants. He was still turned on by her dead body, one of the best fucks of his life. “It is true that you never forget your first.” The bulge grew. “I should not have worn these tight jeans.” It is said that one’s life flashes before their eyes when they are about to die but here he was, getting hard thinking about the people he had killed. His second kill was a beautiful guy, he must have been a model. The lover couldn’t bring himself to cut that beautiful boy, so he strangled him with that lovely silk. The lover considered it more like a love mark. The boy was tied to a spread eagle, naked as the day he was born. The look on his face as he was fucked to death was special. The lover made a painting of it in his room. The third lover was the icing on the cake. The memories sometimes made him a bit sad. He fought the urge not to kill her as she was perfect. She was a male born with the face and spirit of a little girl. The lover kept her with him for days. He took care of her, made love to her and she responded to him. She moaned and loved him back; one could even say he loved her. So he gave her a painless death, allowing her to die without any fear in her heart. A tear escaped from his eye and he left it to drop. The truth was that she became his weakness and he was more scared of that than his approaching death. The silence was disturbed by the sound of his grim reaper coming. The lover knew his loving days had come to an end when he saw hazel eyes. There was no wrath in his heart for his killer.
