KISSING DEAD BOYS

 KISSING DEAD BOYS
GIRLS IF YOU HAVE EVER BEEN HURT BY A GUY, PLEASE READ THIS STORY. YOU  MAY RELATE TO IT. THEN PLEASE SEND THIS STORY TO EVERYBODY YOU KNOW.

Dear Diary
It is amusing the way that guys think about girls. When they look at a  girl that they like, you can see them staring at a girl's b***s and literally get an erection in their pants. Too bad boys think with their penis instead of with their hearts. Sometimes I would feel remorse about what I'm doing. But all I would have to do is stare at myself in the mirror. And that remorse would boil and change into hatred. Hatred for those that took my innocence away. Hatred for those that took the ones I  loved away from me. But most of all hatred for myself for being too afraid to do anything before it all even started.

Just the other night I was at a strip club. I was just enjoying myself.  When I noticed that sometimes the guys around me would take a gaze at me and then turn around and say something to their friends, and they would all laugh. I suppose that they think I'm here because I'm a lesbian. But I'm here for a different reason. Just then, a guy who I recognized got up from his chair and walked up to the topless dancer on stage, and put a dollar bill down the front of her thong. The dancer is just as beautiful as my sister was. And that thought took me back to when the nightmare started.

Eventually, one day our father decided to leave my mother, sister, and me to fend for ourselves. It was tough. Our mother worked two jobs just so that we could barely scrape by. She would come home from work tired and exhausted and sleep during the day. My older sister had become a  second mother to me. She basically raised me during those troubled tough times. She cleaned and kept up with the house. She cooked supper when I  came home from school. She helped me with my homework. And at nights, we would stay up late and talk about anything that came to mind. We even talked about the boys that we had crushes on and about sex. Back then I used to look up to my big sister. She was my best friend. But soon all that changed. My sister's body seemed to blossom overnight. She was always pretty, but now she was beautiful. And her personality had changed as well. She became boy crazy. I guess it was because she didn't have any male attention at home, so she found it from the boys at school, at the parties she would go to, and just about any cute boy that she came across. Let's just say it wasn't hard for a guy to get his pole wet by her if you know what I mean. It was all very sexy and discreet. Sometimes I would see her walking down the street in skimpy clothes with a group of boys. It was sad. I really missed not being able to talk to my best friend anymore.

I began to feel lonely. But I had become old enough to take care of myself. I could fix my own food and do my own homework. I even cleaned the house all by myself. But at night when I didn't have anyone to talk to, I  would snuggle up with my stuffed Teddy bear that I have had since the day I was born. And find some comfort in that. One day my big sister had met a guy named Scott. He was the star athlete in school. She started to spend more time with him and even less time being with me. She had fallen in love with him and they had become lovers. I was so angry and jealous of my big sister. I felt like she had abandoned me. She was so absorbed and sure of herself, and so in control.

Then came the phone call in the middle of the night that our mother received. It would be the phone call that I will never forget. The worst single event that would change my life forever. I can still hear our mother's screaming and crying echoing in my ears. That is when I  realized that my sister wasn't in control after all. The way it was explained to me what had happened was, my sister and her boyfriend Scott had gone to the prom. After it was over, they had left the party in his car and drove away to some secluded woods for some sweet loving. While they were in the backseat of his car, several other cars pulled up behind them.  bunch of Scott's teammates had gotten out of the vehicles. They each paid Scott a lot of money to have a go with my terrified sister. She was brutally raped for hours in the back seat of  Scott's car while Scott counted his money. He had made a deal with his friends the week before to do this horrible thing. He never did care for my sister after all. He didn't love her or protected her. While his buddies were having their way with my sister, they would hit her and she became bloody and bruised. Finally, when they were all done their man trash inside or on my sister. She had found the strength and courage from within to yell and scream at Scott and told him and his buddies that she was going to report them all to the police. But Scott had become enraged and began to strangle my sister with his bare hands.  He suffocated her to death. And then he dumped her body into the nearby river. Some fishermen had discovered her floating body and they notified the authorities. That is when our mother had received the phone call late on prom night. Some onlookers who were hiding in the trees and bushes nearby had seen what Scott and his teammates were doing to my sister, and what they did with her body as they tossed her into the raging river. But they never got the courage to confront them. Simply because they were too scared if Scott and his friends would retaliate against them. But when they had read in the next morning newspaper that my sister had been raped, killed, and her body dumped in the river. They felt so frightened and guilty that they reported the incident to the police. They told them what had happened and turned in Scott's teammates. But even after doing an exhausting search for him the police never did find Scott.

After my big sister's funeral, my mom and I would go to visit my sister's grave every day. I even wrote poems about how much I missed her and how I  looked up to her. I thanked her for all that she did for me. I knew that she was watching me from the heavens above and was still protecting me. As I stared down at my sister's grave, I thought about this feeling also called regret is a life sentence given to those who didn't do the right thing when given the chance to. A life sentenced to those who rather turn their heads the other way rather than help those who reached out their hands and begged. It was too late to save my sister now. But I  had to do something. I had to find the courage after all. And not let fear, but rather, vengeance to consume me. To in power me. To help put a  stop to this human atrocity known as rape from ever happening to other girls in the future.

Several months later when the new school year had begun, I was hoping to stay busy with school and was looking forward to getting on with my life. One day I had gotten home from school and had found a note from my mom. It read "Roast is cooking on the stove and there is more in the refrigerator if you want more". "LOVE MOM." I had gone into my mom's bedroom to say hi to her. Instead, I found her hanging from the ceiling.  I screamed! and cried! like I never had before. I called 911 and then I  ran into the kitchen to grab a knife. I whimpered as I struggled to cut the rope. When I finally managed to get my mom down I knew that she was already gone. Her body was just now beginning to get cold as I held my mom close to my heart. I was crying hysterically. I held her to me knowing full well why she ended her life. She missed her first baby girl and didn't want to go on with life without her. You know that thing called regret that I had mentioned earlier? Sometimes that regret can spawn into pure hate and evil. Hate is a powerful and raw emotion.  Sometimes, even more, powerful than love. When everyone and everything that you ever loved and cared about is taken away from you. And the only thing you have left is hate. It can be all that you will ever need to keep you going in life. When not even your faith can. Also, that hate took away my fear and regret and replaced those with what I have needed for so long. And that thing that it blessed me with was courage along with vengeance. Which I will soon start using against my enemies.

After my mom's funeral, I was sent from foster home to foster home. To single parents who wanted me only to get child care money from the government for themselves. In some homes, I was molested by the father who wanted me to call him daddy. In other foster homes that I was placed in, I  found myself lucky and thanked my lucky stars that I was only beaten a  few times every day. I guess getting hit and slapped just for being a  typical young girl is better than being molested. This was my breaking point. At least I still had my old Teddy bear with me to cry myself to sleep with. When I had finally turned seventeen, I decided it was time to become the hunter and not the prey.

One night, I waited for my then foster parents to go to bed. I waited until they were fast asleep. Then I snuck out of the house. I went into the garage and cut the brake line in the car. Then I went back to my room and snuggled up with my Teddy bear. I smiled to myself as I fell into a dreamless peaceful sleep. The next day, my foster father was late going to work. I was an unruly girl that day just for the fun of it. I talked back to my foster father, which was against the rules. He got mad and smacked me in the face really hard. He warned me that when he got back home from work, I will be severely punished. He then got into his car and went on way to work. Because he was late, he sped through sharp turns and downslope hills. When he was about to enter a busy, he discovered to his horror that the break didn't work. No matter how hard he pressed down on the brake peddle, the car would not slow down. Wham! The car collided head-on into a semi.  But my foster father wasn't killed instantly. Instead, he was rushed to the hospital. Where he was pronounced legally brain dead and induced into a deep coma. He Eventually died a slow death. I was happy with that. It was what he deserved. The local news and police reports concluded that the tragic accident was due to a faulty brake line. Lucky for me they never found out that it had been cut. Because of the nature of the mangled wreckage made for any would-be tampering of the brake line untraceable. He was a pastor of a local church. So, of course, lots of people were at his funeral. It was a closed casket service. Something  I knew that he would have hated with him being so full of himself. He was so full of pride it was sickening. If only his church friends could have seen him for the monster that he really was inside. As friends and church members gave their last respects, I smiled warmly within myself.  Knowing that He was my first prey. But he would not be my last.

It is not that hard to find my prey. All a girl really has to do is use her female charms to entice and make a guy horny and get him hard for you. Then you have his balls in your tight grasp. Sometimes all I have to do is put on some skimpy clothes. I even used some of my sister's outfits from back when she was boy hopping. I would slide on a short mini skirt and a half button-down blouse. I put my hair in pigtails. Add some cute glitter on to my face. Slip-on my high heels. And top it all off with some deep red lipstick as a final touch. I didn't have to wear a  bra or panties.  there was no need to dress modestly. I walked the local street corners and when a car pulled up next to me all I had to do was flash him my goodies.  after that, I was in the guy's car and we would drive to a secluded area. I let him ride his greasy hands over my legs and hike up my skirt. After we started doing our thing, it doesn't take long for me to cleanse the world of a monster. I grabbed my knife that I had hidden on me and stabbed the monster in the back. I got up and straddled on top of him and repeated stabbing the guy until he stopped screaming for me to stop. I cleaned my knife off his shirt and kissed him on his bloody lips. Then I left to go home.

I stalked my prey every night. Sometimes I would go to bars and just wait. When a guy would walk up and ask me. "Hey, baby nice legs. What  time do they open?" I laughed innocently at how absurd his pick up line was. I knew then this one would become my next victim. I know what guys want. But they are not going get it from me. He told me that his name was Johnny. This time I took my prey to my house. Sometimes I would perform handjob when I was in a bit of a foul mood. I lead him inside and we got undressed and got into the bathtub together. I made us a bubble bath.  Then I began to pleasure him by giving him a handjob. I could feel the demon getting hard in my hands. This would be the last time that will ever happen I thought to myself silently and I giggled. I waited until my prey was in a state of ecstasy. Then he was trapped. I slowly and carefully used one of my hands to raised it out of the tub and reached down to where my knife was hidden. Underneath the bath mat. It only took one quick slice. He didn't even know what had happened until the blood began to bubble up from the soapy water. Suddenly he looked down and my prey screamed and screamed. He was too terrified to attack me. I calmly got out of the tub and put on my bathrobe. I left the bathroom with him gurgling on his own blood. After locking the door behind me, I went downstairs and turned on the radio. I turned up the volume so I couldn't hear my prey's pathetic crying and pleas for help. I remember listening to several songs. The Bleeding by Five Finger Death Punch, Tears Don't  Fall by Bullet For My Valentine, The Flood by Escape The Fate, What's  Left Of Me, and Times Like These by Bless The Fall, Over And Under by  Egypt Central, and Finally Run Free and Moving On by Asking Alexandria.

After the songs were over I went back upstairs and opened the bathroom door. I walked into a bloody scene. There was blood everywhere. On the walls, on the floor, on the bathtub, and bloody handprints were on the back of the bathroom door. My prey was dead. While in a state of panic,  he must have slid on his own blood and had hit his head on the corner of the bathtub.
There is something very enticing about walking that thin line between pleasure and danger. Maybe it is these same elements that make some of us serial killers. Sometimes I would just drive around. It didn't take long when I spotted a guy dragging a screaming young woman into a dark alley. So I parked my car nearby and turned off the headlights. So as to not be seen. I watched him rape her. The girl did manage to claw the guy's face but it didn't do much to help her at the end. After he was done with her, he got up and kicked her hard in the side for good measure. Then suddenly he ran off scared. I guess he thought he saw someone had seen him. For he looked around and spotted my car with no one inside it. He quickly got in the car and hot-wired the ignition and drove away from the scene. I waited hidden below in the backseat. Some are just too stupid to bother looking in the backseat to make sure no one is hiding in the vehicle before driving away. He stopped at a stop sign and that was when I came around from behind with my knife and made one quick motion across his throat. I watched him bleed to death and then I kissed him on the lips.

Still, I will never forget the priceless expression on this other guy's face when I took him down to my basement. I had met him at a club. When we got to my place we started making out. His hands took liberties intended to distract me. He slid his hand up my skirt and my body quivered slightly as a little moan of pleasure escaped my lips. I  finally got a grip on myself. This prey lasted longer than the others.  But it was all for a cheap thrill. Sometimes I like to play with my prey. I told him that I wanted to screw in the basement. But he was weary to go down there. So I slowly and enticingly removed all my clothes. And with the promise of the best blow job he had ever had. He eagerly reconsidered. It was pitched dark as we descended down the basement steps. When we got down to the basement floor I told him to close his eyes and wait or a big surprise. After he did I turned on the light and told him to open them again. As they adjusted to the harsh light his eyes just about bulged out of their sockets. And his mouth grew wide in shocked horror.  Hanging from the stone basement walls were the bodies of my previous prey. All were in different stages of decomposition. Some with mouths forced open by the final brutal and violent moments of their slaying.  After I thought the guy had his fair share of horror, I simply but quickly stabbed him in the back. After his body stopped twitching with its last desperate moments of life. I kissed the dead boy on the lips.
I stood up and I looked around. I admired my own handiwork. It was then that I began to appreciate what I was doing for the world. I know most if only they could take one look at my prized collection, would ask me how I could do such a macabre and ghastly thing. In their hearts and minds these monsters that are now decaying on the walls. Were fathers, sons,  and brothers who had families of their own. But within my own heart, I  saw them as the monsters that they were. Who used to take advantage of a  female's insecurities and vulnerabilities. I knew what I was doing was right. My only regret was that I didn't have more time to go after every monster in the world.
I knew that there were more of them than I could possibly slay. But I  comforted myself knowing that at least the ones here in my basement cemetery will never hurt another girl ever again. These days I have a  new interest. This new technological marvel of Social Networking called  Facebook. Has become a new weapon in my arsenal. A new hunting ground so to speak. I simply set up my user profile on this web site to make myself look like an innocent but fun-loving girl. One who is scared and insecure with herself. I explain that I come from a broken home and that I'm looking for a man who would give me the attention that I never got at home. You wouldn't believe how many messages I get from guys. I  got a lot of perverted messages. And after I tell them that I was willing to meet with them at the location of my choice, the trap would be set for my prey.
And guys don't think for a moment that I'm the only girl who is doing this. I have created an online group where girls who are tired of being victimized by men, come to meet and share their juicy gossip about how they exact revenge on their attackers. And our numbers exceed in the thousands by my last count. So guys, never underestimate what your girlfriend is capable of doing. When being mistreated or abused by their boyfriend. You may soon regret it.

How can someone get away with murdering so many for such a long time?  You ask. Well, let's just say it really isn't that hard. Even with all the murder investigating technology at the disposal of police investigators. Sometimes, they just never search in the right places. Or ask the right questions. But anyway, in case you were wondering who that guy that I recognized at the bar was earlier. It was the very same  Scott that took my sister away from me. After a few drinks and giving him a blow job in the men's restroom, I brought him home with me.

Now as I look up from witting in my diary and look out my bedroom window. I see that the sun is just beginning to rise. It brought with it a promise of a better tomorrow. A promise of an exciting day today. I  finally write one last entry in my diary. "I promise I will write more later and tell you all of the exciting things that happened to me today.  Until then."

I closed and put my diary away. I look over at Scott who is sleeping so peacefully in bed next to me. I reached over to the nightstand and grab my knife. I bring the knife in front of me and stare into the knife's blood-stained refection. As I thought to myself. "That stuffed Teddy  bear that I have had since I was born, has become pretty useful." After I  had ripped open the back of it and took out the cotton stuffing. I hid my knife inside the bear. It had become a great hiding place. I look back again at Scott and glance downward. I saw blood begin to pool from under the blanket that was laying over Scott. I looked back into the knife's reflection and smiled a sweet smile. "I wonder what Scott will  do and say when he wakes up and finds he no longer has a penis?" I  thought to myself. "That I had taken his manhood away from him and had  flushed it down the toilet in the middle of the night." I like to think of myself as the female reincarnation version of Jack the Ripper, And we all know he never got caught.

Yes, some may think of me as a serial killer that loves to butcher men.  But I look at what I'm doing as pest control. An Exterminator. I suppose  I could be out doing drugs, or cutting myself, or even sleep in coffins and drink blood like other Goth and Emo girls do. But this seems more productive in the long run. This is my job--kiss the dead boys, and send them on their way to Hell. I glide the sharp edge of the knife against my tongue slicing it. Because my sick twisted mind makes me love the feeling of doing it. I put the knife back inside my favorite Teddy bear and snuggle up with it as I wait for the screams to begin.

This is my tribute to my big sister. This is for you Julie. I love you always. May you rest in eternal peace.
Now here I am again standing over my sister's grave on a cold winter's night. As I look up into the night sky. I see countless stars twinkling snowflakes almost like glitter. I spot a shooting star blazing across the dawning sky. Suddenly, snowflakes begin to fall. I stared straight up as the snowflakes caressed my tear-streaked face. As if they were the fallen teardrops of angels raining down to comfort me. Warming my heart with joy and inner peace.