The cycle repeats itself. The work is done. The trap is set, and he is waiting in his spot. Almost as if he can sense what is about come.
They had picked out his name and sent it to me a week ago. I usually like to cook them slowly but when I started my dreaded hunt, the truth came out. He liked kids.
I don’t enjoy doing this and the first weeks of doing this, I would have panic attacks, vomiting and sleepless nights even before I killed them. But for him, my conscious and my job shook hands to symbolise that I had the green light.
He had managed to score some blow at this point, making my job even easier. He’s high, ego-filled and most importantly. Stupid.
I drove up the hill ahead of him and park up. My car isn’t suspicious, it blends well into the background. That wasn’t why I bought the car at the time. Easy and reliable. Two things I always want to hear especially for my victims. I do a quick scan for any cameras, something that I did in my previous life however now I at least had a good reason to; technology isn’t our friend.
This alley was picked since it’s his regular path; people don’t realise how structured their lives are. I didn’t either not until I started this. I could leave now, burn all the bridges and start anew. I can’t I know this, and this is the last echo of my fragile conscious. I am not what they make me do.
He walks towards me, unaware of how quickly he’ll disappear from the world; how no one not even his parents will care for his disappearance. He glides past me. High on ego, high on drugs who know?
I kick the back of his leg; he drops to the floor and crunch. He doesn’t feel the pain, but he registers what I do as I wrap the fishing wire around his neck.
I drag him as if he was screaming toddler, the wire has his vocal cords blocked and it comes out more like garble.
I quieten him and remind him that I’m in control, I don’t recognise my voice or even who I am at this moment. Especially when I tighten my grip on the wire as I get him in the driver’s seat of my car.
I loosen my grip, allowing him to catch his breath. If I cared I would have taken more care to make sure I didn’t bruise his neck. Oh well.
“Start the car and drive forward. Understand?” I say slowly enunciating each syllable.
“Wh- what th- the fuck man” he trembled.
I let him continue, it’s easier to give them a false sense of control or in this instance. A chance.
“Do, do I owe you yu- money? I ca- can pay you, I swe- swear”.
“No, drive” I state.
I tighten the wire again and he complies.
The drive is long and tedious, something I’m well used to by now, my hands are steady though they used to tremble just as much as this man in my car is. How time flies I suppose. I would panic and practically piss myself when I’d see cars pass me and my unhappy victim however now with logic, I knew no one cared. For all we were to them were passers-by.
We arrive finally. The shutter is rusted and makes a banshee scream as it springs to life. It slowly ascends to allow the car into its final resting place for the night.
“Take the key out of the ignition, Chester”.
“Puh- puh- Please we can tal- talk about this”. He rambles, and I let him.
“Is it money you want? Blow? Whatever it is I can get you”. I chuckle at this.
“Chester, if I wanted any of that, I would have chosen a richer junkie”. He froze at this realisation.
“Now we’re going to get out of this car and have a chat. Alright?”
He complies and gets out. Immediately he tries to run and scream, and I tackle him. My shoulder says hi to the floor by embracing it, and I drive my fist into Chester’s skull. I fight the urge to bash his skull in this block and instead gag him and drag him by his hair.
I open the cellar door and drop him in. He tumbles backwards and lands on his nose. I hear the satisfying pop of his nostrils as his nose breaks; gushes with blood and stains the floor.
The next part is a blur for me. I’d like to think it’s my brain shielding me from my terrible actions, but I know it’s just all the adrenaline that rushes through me during this event. He was tied to a gurney, stripped of his clothes and covered in flammable liquid. I let him speak, beg and even cry as he realised that there was no way out.
“Chester.” I start with.
“I thought you were tough. I mean you certainly acted like that when you abused those kids”.
His face contorts as if he’s been caught with his fingers in the biscuit tin.
“I- I’m sick, I kn- know, my mom she- she liked to touch me.” I smacked him so hard, one of his teeth fly out.
“Bullshit, you were raised by your grandparents, your parents died just after you were born”. I spit out.
He shifts and starts professing that he’s changed, that the drugs make him hurt them. That I’ve helped him quit the shite.
I leave the room and sit in the camera booth, I make sure to record every confession, it reminds me I’m doing good even through the bad I cause.
Katherine rings, I tell her that work has me swamped and our date must be moved. She understands and tells me she loves me. I say the words and I feel at peace. Chester brings me back to reality as he screams his heart out. This goes on for a whole week till the drugs flush out and now he’s dehydrated and hungry. I comply and give him water. His eyes light up and tries to plead with me.
“Chester, I see the real you. Not the drugs, not the anger. You. I believe you”.
That gets him hooked onto every word now, nearly there.
“I’ll let you go.”
He practically shoots his load as I edge him to fake salvation. It ends when I set him ablaze, his screams are drowned out and I stand there, witness to the flame as it cleanses him, I put it out, eventually and I stand there, I should feel sick still, but my brain is in pure wonder of the what I had done.