I, Evil

An excerpt from the life of female serial killer. There might be enough here to flush this out more but I wanted to get to the meaty part.

Its body lays before me bare and restrained on the stainless steel table. It has been awake for some time now and I can feel its eyes track my every movement. I like it being aware and watching me. I was wrong about one thing though: it’s not nearly as strong as I originally thought when I first laid eyes upon it. It’s not even fighting its bonds. I am hoping it is not ready to surrender just yet. I am far from ready for this to end so quietly.

I undress completely. I relish the feeling of no barriers between it and me. Skin to skin contact is always a risk but it’s a risk that I willingly embrace. Each experience is singular, each with its own consequences and obstacles. I do not mind the challenges. I grow each time because of them. I hone my skill and my method. I perfect myself with each girl and most importantly I enjoy myself every time.

This body lying before me is far from perfect. I don’t seek out the ideal woman. Those women bore me. I find them vapid and shallow and wholly uninteresting. Part of it may be jealousy. I am human enough to admit that. Men never look at me the way they look at those thin, willowy females with curves in the right spots and high firm breasts. Those women are out of my league and that’s a limit I accept. I befriend the pretty and the plain. They see themselves in me and I reflect it back. Sure I’m a quick study, but do they ever make it easy for me.

I study this form trembling before me from its long toes to its knobby knees to the meaty flesh that rest on its thighs and hips. Its stomach jiggles and its small breasts lie flat against its chest. I look into its eyes which are silently pleading with me. I smile, shake my head and turn away. I delight in its muffled screams and the chains attached to its restraints clatter noisily in the otherwise silent room.

I pick up my first toy from a side table: a six-inch high carbon stainless steel blade with a rosewood handle. I take loving care of my instruments that I crafted myself. After each use I wipe them down, cleaning out ever crack where a microscopic drop of blood may settle. Each blade in my repertoire is sharpened carefully, thus always ready for the next canvas of skin.

Turning back to it, I close my eyes and inhale deeply. Its sweat and fear has filled the room and it is an intoxicating fragrance. I rip the strips of duct tape from its mouth and my knees nearly buckle when its tear filled cries permeate the air. Oh this space has still for far too long.  I haven’t spoken to it since I brought it here but now I am moved to speak.

“I want you to fight. I want you to scream and beg and plead for me to stop. Please struggle. Your fight will only make your eventual surrender that much sweeter. And you will surrender. You will realize that your death is inevitable and you will give that to me.” I smile and place my hand on its hot and soaked forehead, smoothing away stray strands of its dark hair. “But I am going to tear you apart.” My words have its intended effect. It starts to thrash in its restraints, the chains making a clamoring sound as they bang against the steel table. It shriek “No” and “Please” and “Let me go”which flow over and around me and I am almost in ecstasy. It starts to curse and threaten me and those pathetic outbursts I ignore.

I have delayed long enough. I lean over it and pressing the tip of the blade in the space between the breasts and I start to cut. Its ugly noisy curses are cut off as blood wells up underneath my knife. It tries to move away from me but it has nowhere to go. I slide the knife down and the flesh opens up beneath it. I work quickly but efficiently. I can’t have it passing out before I get to my destination. I pause to check on it. It’s still conscious but it is no longer screaming. What a shame. I see tears coursing down its cheeks from closed eyes and her mouth working in a silent sob. I believe I can elicit more music from it so I carve down one more inch stopping just above its belly button. Blood is gushing forth from this gaping wound and I have to admit it looks tempting to taste. I inhale the thick, cloying scent and I take a moment to watch as it flows down the side of the body and forms puddles on the silver table.

My momentary trance is interrupted when it starts making guttural animal noises. Not quite as satisfying as its cries and whimpers but I revel in them all the same. It also signifies that this experience is almost at an end. I quell the disappointment rising inside of me. I set the knife down on the little table and put my blood-soaked hands on either side of its head. I give it a little shake and its eyes flutter open.

“Look at me,” I quietly command. Its eyes roll back and forth and I shake its head again. “Look. At. Me.” To its credit, it hears me and focuses. “That’s it. You know what’s happening. There’s no need to fight it anymore. Surrender to me.” Cradling its head in my left hand, I place my other hand in the cut I made and slide my hand inside its body. It convulses and a scream of absolute pain rips from its throat and thus capping this chapter perfectly. I move my face close enough to where its eyes fill my line of sight completely. I feel around in the cavity that I’ve made, its organs slipping between my fingers. Her convulses are starting to subside into shudders and its cries suddenly cease. I remove my hand from inside of her and I comb her hair with my fingers leaving bloody highlights behind.

Its breaths are coming sharp and shallow. Each one could be the last. I fix my mouth over its, breathing in and out of my nose. I’m not interested in keeping it alive. What I want is its life force, always the strongest at the moment of final death. Don’t be silly - it is not her soul I’m taking, but something much more intangible. It was an accidental find, but it became the discovery of my life. I don’t think anyone else knows about it, certainly not doctors or scientists. They wouldn’t be interested in it anyhow as it doesn’t serve any medical benefits. It doesn’t provide immortality let alone longevity. Whatever it is, this final sign of life leaving a body, it quiets my spirit. My malevolent urges are balanced out by what these women give to me in the end. Yes I’m aware it sounds like new-agey mumbo jumbo. I didn’t set out to find it. It found me. It is not why I started taking lives; I’ve always had a purpose, now there is a deeper purpose to what I do.

At last. Here it comes. The body tenses, stills and then with one final push her life force is expelled from the body and into mine. It tastes like silver and feels like crushed ice as it leaves trails of burning coldness when I swallow it. I let go of what is now an empty vessel as it no longer serves any purpose worthy of my attention. There is no revelation, no flashes of light, no stomach cramping. It ends peacefully and I am filled with serenity. At least for now. The dark place inside of me is dampened by this light inside of me. I know it is too strong and will overwhelm this kernel of goodness I have stolen from someone else. So I will begin again, walking the streets, seeking for another light to extinguish.

Author's Note

So this is my first offering since writing in college. I know I'm really rusty but I've been feeling like there is something creative trying to get out. I like watching true crime shows and while I have an educational interest in serial killers, the elusive female serial killer is something I think I'd like to explore more.