My darlings, never meet your heroes.
Or people who work in the same profession as you.
According to the FBI, there are dozens of active serial killers at any given moment but the actual number is impossible to know because that random number is based on DNA evidence and patterns of behavior which suggest sequential murder. Thanks to people like yours truly, the authorities will never have completely accurate information. Given the ratio of murderers to victims, it’s very unlikely that two serial killers will ever meet.
Which is why, of course, I met one this weekend.
James had the day off on Saturday so we went out for dinner and then a drive, hunting for a victim. Standard date night. There was a man on the side of the road trying to flag down a car so we stopped to let him in. He was frantic, kept thanking us for saving him - though he wouldn’t say from what. We offered to drive him to a hospital or police station with the intention of pulling over near our destination and killing him, but he said he needed to meet up with a friend and would be okay if we got him there. So, we drove around, following his directions until we pulled into an alleyway connecting a convenience store and run down duplex.
That’s when he pulled out a knife and held it to my throat.
With his other hand, he aimed a gun at James and told us to give him any valuable possessions. We tossed our wallets and wedding rings, unconcerned because we were obviously going to get them back. Then he told me that if I offered him “compensation for his trouble” he would let us both go unharmed.
James figured it out before I did: The Roadside Rapist - their name, not mine. He was a rapist and thief who had been travelling across the country by hitchhiking and taking advantage of vulnerable people who were nice enough to pick him up.
People like us - though we did have ulterior motives.
So James figured it out because his signature and description had hit all the police stations in the area. He recognized his demand for compensation and told him that we knew who he was. That seemed to startle RR long enough for James to elbow him in the nose, knocking him back.
He kind of lost his mojo after that. He couldn’t get back the same overconfidence and menacing tone so James just locked the door and took off.
We drove around aimlessly, avoiding stop signs and street lights so he wouldn’t be tempted to escape and we had a chat with our new friend in the backseat.
His name was something super simple, like Brad, and he was originally from the other side of the country. He just enjoyed making people feel small and scared. He said people are their most “authentic” when they’re facing death.
He’s right but what we was doing was just self-indulgent and wrong.
He was a kid who wanted to feel bigger than he was, nothing more.
And I am using past tense for a reason. He cried when I slit his throat with his own knife. Of course, that was after two hours of hits and cuts that let him know I was actually threatening his life. His authentic self was to beg and bargain for his life.
I always look forward to meeting fellow serial killers, to learn from them and assert my dominance. But sometimes they’re just whiny little brats who stick a knife to your throat. It’s just disappointing.
It does make me question the strength of the police force, and the actual skill of multi-murders. Are they actually good, or are the people hunting them just very bad?
Fucking Brad. Making me rethink my own talent.
Never meet your heroes. Or people who work in the same industry.
As always, dear readers,