“Get up!” I said, watching as she sobbed and rose from the filthy wooden floor her tear stained cheeks made me sick to my stomach. She stood there with a torn shirt, cuts and a bruise from where she tried to escape my grip. Now, She didn’t dare move because if she did she knew her fate.“You shot your mother?” I asked as I observed her face as she began to comprehend why she was here it didn’t take a genius to know why, but she was no Einstein. Although she believed it was because she left her door unlocked well she was sadly mistaken, that was just an easier way to get in, isn’t it. She nodded tears falling as she did, due to my previous question and a weep fled her mouth; she had no reason to cry. I would not allow it.
I walked up to her and held her arm putting a great amount of pressure before twisting it earning a loud crack to surround the room and a loud yell followed by loud sobs; music to my ears.I watched as she struggled to breathe, heavily tears falling as if they never stopped.
I pushed her to the leather chair in the room and I bounded her hands and feet down with the rope with no struggle since most of her bones were broken and she wouldn’t struggle due to the pain.
She wasn’t a victim in my book nope she was a killer who loved to prey on people in general and she repulsed me. She made my insides cringe, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing the discomfort, she was giving me. She slaughtered her own mother; she deserved everything coming to her.
“Why?” She asked, I laughed with a twisted smile knowing it would creep her out and make her ten times more terrified, but not only that it made her fear me which was a look I craved to see on my Prey.
“Why?” I asked in disbelief when in reality I was smiling as big as the joker. She shook out of terror, but I showed no mercy. Her hands gripped the torn leather chair. She wasn’t free to move her hands because they were bound to the armrest of the chair.
“I just told you, sweetie, now quick death, or long death?” I asked knowing whichever she chooses I wouldn’t care because I was gonna make her pay whether it was quickly or shortly. I clenched my fist upset; it was a way to calm myself but with every weep made me angry than before.Every weep made my blood boil she had no right to act as if she was in pain.
“I want a quick death.” She mumbled quietly gripping onto the chair harder her knuckles as white as snow; she thought I was going to listen to her pathetic self. I sneered and looked down at her in disgust, she didn’t even give her mom a quick death but one with much agony and sorrow. I snickered earning a feared look out of her.
“Long death it is,” I said with a chuckle.I began to untie her bounds and she began to kick not caring she had a broken leg but one quick twist and she was done.I picked her up and threw her over my broad shoulder; she tried to get free but I wouldn’t allow it. I, Ian Bentford was a ‘Monster’ with a capital M. She began hitting my back over and over again and screaming, but nobody could hear even as her nails dug into my back I never flinched or let her go. All that was heard in the barn where I was at in the middle of the forest were her screams and the animals screeching.
Her name was Stacy Myers and she wasn’t innocent. She killed her mother; she let innocent people die for her own amusement which was sick. She was 18 and lived with her dad, who would never find her. I used to see her when she was combing her brown hair in front of her mirror looking into her mirror with her dull blue eyes no emotion. It was sick.
She would be my 30th kill, none of them were innocent. None of them deserved to live. They all died on the dirt floor,or the dirt road, the metal chair, even the rustic carpet, but they all died somewhere and they all had a story.
Lots of males and some females much like her. Most ranged from old to young. It might surprise you, but most were young because young people these days are supposed to choose what they want to do or who they are and that’s unfair to them due to their age and the way they’re treated.
I kill because I was required to, not because I wanted to.
I placed Stacy Myers in a new chair a metal
one and I strapped her arms and legs down without having to struggle since I was much stronger than her she clung to the chair acting as if she sat still I wouldn’t hurt her but the metal dug into her broken leg and I saw her wince it was less comfortable than the leather one.
“You want to cut?You want to kill your mom? I’ll show you what cutting is and I’ll show you what pain is.” I said with a smirk. I picked up a small pocket knife and I sliced it deep across her arm automatically blood gushed out of the fresh wound and poured onto the white tile leaving a nasty brown color visible to the naked eye.
The first time I did something like this I would recoil at all the blood but now, I was so used to it. She cried in pain as she observed me slowly becoming light headed from all the blood that was pouring out of her wounds. I grinned and heaved it across again, but harder than the last, this time on her other arm more blood poured a lot more. She wept every time I did it slowly falling out of conscious. I jabbed the little knife in her thigh and she screeched due to the throbbing on her thigh and the amount of blood leaking out of her.
“Next time you won’t cut right?” She nodded. “Too bad there won’t be a next time,” I said with a sad fake smile before smirking. She wanted quick death but I wanted it to be excruciatingly painful one with much blood.
Should I give a quick but excruciating stab to the neck? How about a gunshot to the head? Stab in the chest? I decide on a stab to the neck it would be quick but painful and she would see and feel it before she died which she was slowly fading away.
I’ve never been caught because I’ve always concealed my tracks. Never itemized a gun, never left impressions, and never left foot patterns; except for the red boots they always chatted about over a cup of coffee concealing their face with the cup trying to protect each other from the truth. The ones they always talk about but it’s common in Texas so they can’t really find me, can they?
I stabbed her in the neck and I watched her neck snap down in five seconds all the blood shot out of her neck like a fountain of blood to me it was beautiful, it was colorful, and it was life. She was deceased and it looked good. I beamed at my job well done and then I engraved the word Night into her arm as if I were engraving a piece of copper as a gift.
I picked her up and walked out of the barn supporting her back with my hands. I looked around seeing the clear Night sky and I looked around smiling this was my life this was my duty.
It’s a Sheriffs job to keeps his town safe.
I positioned her in the back of my trunk making sure the plastic garbage bag was averting her blood from getting in my car and seeping into the clean carpet. I drove to the park which was a twenty-minute drive and I placed her on a bench knowing someone will call the cops and will see my work. How can someone just stumble across a body without it being evident? I had to leave her on a bench of course. I grinned and walked back to the car whistling a tune that my mom used to sing to me.
When I got back I crinkled my nose in repulsion at the untidiness I left before me and the foul smell of metallic blood.It disgusted me, but nevertheless, it had to be done and who better for the job than me.It was easy for me to do.Why was I a monster you ask? Well, I guess you’ll never know.
It could have stopped if she had been here to see it all
I smirked before the idea popped into my head.
I’m coming for you...