I must admit that this kill wasn’t my favourite. When I stuck the tire iron through his eye socket I got his blood all over my hands and it took nearly half an hour to get the blood from underneath my fingernails. Good thing I was running a little early this morning. Sandra had an early morning band practice so I figured I would get into work and catch up on some filing that has been piling up on my desk since the beginning of the year. But sometimes you need to accept that pleasure will come before business if an opportunity presents itself.
That’s what I believe: seize every opportunity that comes your way because it could change your life. I know some of you think it’s absolutely terrifying but I think change is a good thing. Go with the flow; that was my sister’s motto. I know, I know: look where it got her, but I maintain that the philosophy can hold true even if it did land some people in prison. You still have to admire her initiative and I, for one, am proud of her. I’m less impressed that she got caught and am certainly more wary of the mistakes she made but all in all, I’m proud of my baby sister. I certainly don’t have the guts to do it so near a police station. That’s not to say I don’t take risks. I certainly have had my fair share of close calls.
Okay, I could stand to be a little more adventurous in my choice of victims. Maybe it would heighten things if I did it closer to a public area. What do you think, dear readers? Should I start seizing more opportunities closer to home? I know my husband would like it if I were home earlier. James is always complaining about my fluctuating hours despite my assurances that it’s a necessary sacrifice. That man is very lucky that I love him.
Our anniversary is coming up. Six years. It’s not a big number but it’s still significant. We have been married for six whole years. Six. You learn a lot about a person in six years: how they take their coffee, how they dress when they have something on their mind, what they look like when they’re about to kiss you.
That man has turned me into such a sap, I tell you. God help me, if I let him talk me into this trip to the mountains this weekend. It might be nice to get some fresh air. New meat; anonymity; no kids. It would be nice. And a bit of change would be good.
Alright I’ll do it. James and I will go away this weekend and enjoy some guilt-free anonymous pleasure in a cozy ski lodge in the mountains. It’s late in the season so there won’t be too many skiers so it’ll be easier to get one alone and I can finally try that new strangling technique on James. Heather, the loud mouth bitch that she is, is very good at giving me ideas on how to spice up my marriage – without cheating on my husband. I swear, the only reason they haven’t found her body on the morning news is because she’s a damn good secretary. That bitch.
Thank you, dear readers, for your kind suggestions but I don’t think I’ll name myself. Named serial killers always put too much attention on the killer and not on the victims and I want them to get their 15 minutes of fame. It’s a nice tribute to the life I added to my collection. I always take notes during the news segments: their name, where they worked, what family they left behind, the basic stuff. My notebook is running out of pages. But that reminds me: if you learn any details (eye witness statements, video surveillance, if you knew the victim) just post them in the comments below. It’s a big help to me. I like to know as many details as possible.
Well, you won’t hear from me until at least Tuesday but I’ll be sure to tell you all about my little getaway. It should be exactly what I need.
As always, dear readers,
This is a work of fiction. Any relations to people or events living or dead is complete coincidence.