Chapter 2

        Let’s examine the situation. I was possibly one of the most notorious people in the country. Wanted for the murders of at least forty people and I escaped from my school, where I committed thirty-seven of those murders and then set on fire. How? Well I’m not telling. 

        There I was in some crappy motel watching television. Almost every other channel was covering the story. See not many mass murderers get away from the scene of the crime where they commit their murders. Most die, either from suicide or a shoot out with the cops. I got away without a trace. How many people have done that? Not many. 

        What sucks about being one of the most wanted people in the country is that you tend to get recognized easily. That’s why I had to kill at least three or four people on the way to this crappy motel. And I plan on killing more people. I really think eventually I will lose count. For now though let’s just say I’ve killed around forty people give or take.

I’m pretty sure the motel clerk recognized me, but it’s been four hours since I checked in and no cops. That kind of proves a theory I have. See the way I figure it is that most people want a villain, someone they can all rally against. Someone that everyone can hate. Wars are started over certain people’s actions, it’s happened for generations. I am the new person that the world gets to hate.

        So anyway let’s get to the story.

 

        Lying on the bed watching television trying to find a channel that did not have some story covering me. The last thing I wanted to see was my classmates whining and crying over the a******s I had killed or the morons who tried to stop me. The last thing I wanted was to see my parents on the television saying how I’d always been such a good boy, a little quiet and maybe not the most popular student, but I had always been a good boy. Bullshit.

        I turned the TV off and sat up. There was nothing to do and as far as I knew no where to go. I really didn’t want to kill right now, besides what was the point? In this a*s backwards place there probably weren’t too many people even worth whetting my blade on. I decided to take a risk anyway.

        “Front Desk,” the night clerk answered, the same guy that checked me in.

        “Any all night places to go around here?” I asked.

        “There’s an all night diner just up the road,” he answered, “You could get something to eat if you want.”

        I didn’t feel like pointing out I had no cash since he didn’t need to know that until they checked the room the next day and found it empty.

        “Okay, thanks,” I said and hung up.

        I walked to the door and went outside. I was on the ground floor at the corner. I looked to my right and saw a door closing two doors down from my room. I looked to my left and could make out the diner the clerk had mentioned from here. I started walking.

The place was a shithole. Walking in, I counted six people, three pairs of them. I could see to the back of the kitchen and could make out five people working including the head chef and the two waiters. I went to the bar and ordered a Coke. There was a TV playing in the corner, but the volume was muted so no one was really paying attention to the tragic story of how thirty-seven people were killed at the hands of a student gone presumably mad. Shame.

        “You heard about that kid who went crazy and killed all them people?” I overheard the waiter saying to a couple at the bar. “What’s the world coming to, ya know?”

        “And to think that no one’s caught him,” said the man as his lady friend shook her head in dismay. “How do you not catch someone who’s murdered all those people and set fire to the damn school? Something’s just not right with the whole situation if you ask me.”

        I couldn’t help but smile a little smile to myself. Then the door opened and I heard the chime of the bell attached to it. For some reason I actually expected the cops, but it wasn’t. The person walked up to the bar rather close to me.

        “Can I help ya?” the waiter asked in his country bumpkin accent.

        “Coffee,” said a female voice. I glanced over at her and my breath was taken from me. She was a raven haired goddess. I quickly looked away and nursed my Coke. She sat down in the seat next to me and I got a better look at her. She had bright green eyes, pouty lips and smelled like angels ought to smell like. She was wearing a green Emmure shirt and skinny jeans with slip on Vans. Her body was fantastic, not fat, but not skinny and it seemed like there was some toned muscle there. Judging from when she walked up I would have guessed her height at about five feet and six inches. She was perfect.

        I had never been good with talking to girls, and I have to say, becoming a serial killer really doesn’t help the situation at all. I just looked down at the half full glass of soda and enjoyed her smell.

        “You’re staying at the motel down the road right?” she asked me.

        “Um…yeah,” I said quietly, astounded that she had said anything to me.

        “I’m staying two doors down from you, I saw you leaving when I got into my room…I honestly came down here hoping to see you.”

        I was flabbergasted, “Really? Why’s that?”

        “I couldn’t help noticing your shirt when you were leaving, I love Whitechapel,” she giggled a girlish giggle. I looked down at my shirt and realized it was my Whitechapel shirt, white with gold foil letters that read, ‘Fucked And Left For Dead’.

        I looked up and laughed quietly, “Honestly I wasn’t even paying attention when I put it on, and I just put on the first clean shirt I grabbed. I like your shirt too, Emmure is badass. Plus it goes good with your eyes.”

        She blushed at that and laughed a little, the kind of laugh that girls do when they are complemented. I think I was in love. “Thanks,” she said with a smile.

        I smiled back at her, but my smile quickly turned to a frown as I looked up at the TV and saw my picture. The waiters and the other couple were all looking at it and then one of the waiters looked over at me. I saw the realization come over his face as he made the connection. I had some killing to do.

        “You look really familiar,” the girl said to me. “I just can’t think of where I would know you.”

        “Try the TV,” the waiter said boldly. She turned and looked at the television and turned back to me, astonished.

        “Turn it off,” I said quietly but forcefully to the waiter. “Do it now.”

        I had my dagger in my hand and slammed in into the counter. There was fear in the girl’s eyes but something else, something I didn’t quite register.

        “You won’t get away fella,” he said.

        “Shut the f**k up.”

        “You’re really Johnny Sikow?” the woman at the bar asked.

        “Obviously lady,” the girl said sarcastically. “He’ll kill us all if you don’t shut up like he said.”

        Then I realized what that other thing in her eyes was; excitement. She was excited about the fact that I was a killer.

        “Do me a favor,” I said. “Go cut all the pay phones and block up the doors. Do that for me and you’ll live.”

        “Okay,” she said and quickly ran off to do as I asked.

        I couldn’t help but wonder why she was helping me so willingly and so enthusiastically, but I didn’t have the luxury to stop and think about it. She came back with the pay phone in her hand, cut off from the wire.

        Throwing me the phone she said, “Maybe you should check for cell phones.”

        “Good idea,” I said. “If you have cell phones, pull them out now and hold them up in the air. If you think you’re gonna be able to hide them, think again. This is your chance to save your lives.”

        I was lying but they wouldn’t need to know that until later. I saw the girl breaking tables and jamming the entrance. “I’ll go lock up the back too.”

        “Thanks,” I said.

        “Why are you helping him?” a woman yelled at her.

        “I enjoy life,” she responded.

        I started collecting cell phones and got to two men who held their phones down on the table defiantly.

        “Gentlemen, please don’t tell me you’re going to be heroes,” I said.

        “You can go to hell,” one man said.

        “We ain’t doing s**t for you,” the other said.

        “First off, been to hell, didn’t enjoy it, came back. Secondly, you’ll do what I say or else I will stab you in the f*****g throat.”

        “Everything’s secure,” the girl said as she came back out front and paused when she saw the showdown that was happening.

        “You’re gonna rot for this and that b***h too for helping you,” the first man said.

        “Hell yeah,” said his companion.

I stared at them for a moment and looked at the first man in the eyes. Then I stabbed the second man in the throat. He gurgled, his eyes wide with shock as he grabbed at his throat as blood poured out from the wound. Then I quickly stabbed him in the heart.

        “I told you I was going to stab you in the f*****g throat,” I said to him as he lay dying on the floor convulsing as blood spurted from his neck.

His friend started screaming as he saw his friend bleeding all over the place. I punched him in the face and told him to shut up.

        “Now, I hope everyone is willing to comply with my simple demands.”

        Everyone looked like they wanted to scream, but where to afraid of what I might do if they did. The girl walked over next to me and I saw a knife in her hand. I tensed up ready to strike, but she bent over the man I had punched and slit his throat. Blood oozed from his jugular and from his broken nose. He tried to scream but it was no good.

        “That was for calling me a b***h, m**********r,” she spat.

        “For a minute there I thought I might have to kill you,” I said.

        “Not yet baby,” she said flirtatiously.

        I smiled and looked around at everyone in the diner. It looked like it was that time again, for mass killing.

        “Mind giving me a hand with all of these?” I asked the girl pointing out the various people still alive.

        She looked at me a little confused, “Are we going to tie them up or something?”

        I laughed menacingly, grabbed one of the diners and cut his throat, “No.”

        She smiled a little nervously and then grabbed a woman and stabbed a couple of times in the stomach. Then she started getting into it and started slicing and stabbing people. I smiled as I looked on and did the same. Soon the entire diner was full of dying bodies, blood stained walls and floors, and the sounds of moans of the almost dead.

        “Shall we leave?” I asked the girl.

        Her eyes went wide in panic and she seemed frightened.

        “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill you,” I said.

        She walked towards me still a little hesitantly. I kicked the door open and walked out in front of her to hopefully gain her trust. She followed me. We started walking back to the motel together.

        “Do you have a cell phone?” I asked.

        “Yeah,” she said pulling it out. I took it from her and smashed it on the ground. “What the f**k dude?”

        “Sorry honey but can’t take a risk.”

        I walked on and after a minute she hurried to catch up with me.

        “What’s your name?” I asked.

        “Nicole,” she said.

        “Are you at the motel by yourself?”

        “I’m with my parents.”

        “Want to come on the road with me?”

        “And just leave everything?”

        “Everything,” I said stopping and looking at her. “I felt a connection with you back there. And as beautiful as I thought when I first saw you, you look so f*****g hot covered in blood.”

        I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close and I stroked her blood streaked hair then kissed her passionately. She kissed me back, sliding her tongue into my mouth.

        “Let’s go to your motel room,” she said.

        “Okay.”

        We walked into my room and started to undress each other as we kissed deeply. I pushed her onto the bed and stood looking at her naked body. I wasn’t going to tell her I was a virgin, but instead climbed on top of her and we fucked hard. 'Skip the Break-up, Get to the Make-up' by Killwhitneydead was playing on the iPod stereo.

        Three hours and many positions later we lay next to each other covered in sweat. I held her in my arms and kissed her forehead.

        “So why do you do it?” Nicole asked me, her head on my chest.

        “Do what?”

        “Kill all those people.”

        “It started out as revenge,” I said slowly, “but now I do it out of survival. And believe me baby, I’m the king of the f*****g jungle."