My Reason For Life Was Death

A story from a sick twisted man's point of view, who is stalking a young girl.

My Reason For Life Was Death
It was May 19, 1973, the bore of Bennington, Oklahoma was tearing me apart. Small towns with small people never enticed me much, until I saw Annabelle. I knew immediately that she would be the first, but not the last. I studied her body, and learned all of the ways that I could do it. I watched her for weeks, every day I felt the urge growing stronger. Her golden hair, her bright blue eyes, the way she smiled. I especially liked her neck, the way it could just snap so easily and end her life. I imagined the way her eyes would look when the life was leaving them. So I watched her, and I waited, and began to brainstorm all the ways I could kill this beautiful creature. These dark thoughts lit a fire inside of me, a fire that I would never be able to put out.
Annabelle was perfect. I saw her walk into her high school every morning, and I watched her walk out, laughing with friends. Her smile was so bright, she looked like the happiest girl on earth. I admired her hands, they were dainty and small, the perfect size the would make her unable to fight me when I chose my moment to end her life. Her hair was perfect, flowing effortlessly through the wind as the sun reflected her golden locks. I felt my heart beating faster as I thought about what it would be like when she was trying to get away, I would be able to grab that golden hair to pull her back to me. Her legs were long and tan, easy on the eyes, but just short enough so I could outrun her in her attempt to escape. The obsession was putting me in a craze, I felt like a starving wild animal, willing to do anything to fill the void and feed the hunger. I had to talk to her, I had to be close to her. Earning her trust would be the only way that I could get close enough to fulfill what every nerve in my body was telling me to do, kill Annabelle.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I looked Annabelle right in the face, apologizing for my intentional bump into her at the gas station. “It’s okay,” she said as she smiled that smile that I had watched from afar for so long. I wanted everything that was her. I had a taste now, a taste of being next to her. I smelled her sweet scent, and I could almost see the blood flowing through her veins. I wondered what it would look like spilled all over the floor. I watched her walk out of the gas station with her pack of gum and her Coca-Cola, and the urges grew stronger inside of me. The thought of Annabelle consumed me that night, and my dreams showed me different ways that I could take her life.
I wanted to get close to her again. I remembered how she smelled when I ran into her at the gas station. Next time I saw her I would get closer, talk to her more, maybe even make her laugh. This is when my age and my good looks would come in handy. 22 years old, tall and lean. My mother and father always told me I was handsome, maybe it was true. Too bad they both died when I was 12 years old. I wish they could be here to see my first victim. They would’ve both approved of Annabelle, just maybe not what what I’d be doing to her.
This time I was jogging on the path that she would use to walk home from school. She had an old car, but she always chose to walk home from school. I think she probably enjoyed the fresh air.
“We have to stop meeting like this.” I said as I almost ran into her on my jog. She smiled softly as she opened her mouth to speak words. I studied the beautiful curve of her mouth, and her perfectly straight teeth.
“It’s okay, my name is Annabelle, nice to meet you.” She reached out her hand to shake mine and I couldn’t believe that I was actually about to touch her hand.
“My name is Damon, nice to meet you Annabelle.” I tried not to tremble as my hand shook hers, but I made sure not to break eye contact with those gorgeous blue eyes. “We should grab a coffee sometime, if you’re ever free.” My words were calm and smooth and I could see the intrigue in her eyes. “I’d love to, I’m free Thursday after school” she said. My heart started beating faster as I agreed to coffee Thursday. She walked away, and I continued my jog home. Annabelle was finally almost in my reach.
She was so oblivious. She had not one clue as to what was about to happen to her. She thought my intentions were good, just an innocent crush. Little did she know the only crush I had was the thought of her skull crushing as I took an axe to it. While she was pondering over what our first kiss would feel like, I was pondering over what her skin would feel like slipping through my hands as she would try to run away from me. I felt joy at the thought of her life ending at my hands, but I couldn't quite decide how I was going to do it. I wanted it to be artistic. Something that would live in my memory until my last day on earth. This would have to be perfect, killing her would be what brought me to life.
Thursday came and I awaited the afternoon when Annabelle would be getting out of school. I drove to the school and waited for her day to end. The ringing of the bell would indicate that her school day had ended, and my day had begun. I still couldn’t believe that she had agreed to go with me. How lucky I would be to be face to face in her presence. I heard the bell ring and I got out of my car to greet her at the door, a grin on my face. She smiled back and greeted me as we walked to my car. Her teeth shined so bright when she smiled. I wondered what they would look like in a frame on my wall.
The coffee shop smelled amazing. I started drinking coffee at a young age after my parents died. I never wanted to sleep because of the night terrors, so I always brewed my own coffee and stayed up watching whatever was on the television that night. The smell of the coffee shop reminded me of my lost childhood; I tried not to think about it if I could help it. It made me mad at them, mad at my parents for leaving me alone. I hated them for it, if they were here I would like to punish them for what they did to me. I would love to kill them for dying on me, but they are no longer here.
Annabelle awaited me in the coffee shop, sitting in a tiny booth drinking her dark mocha cappuccino, that was her favorite. I greeted her with a smile and she stood up ever so slightly. I couldn’t believe what she was doing. She walked towards me and leaned in for a hug. I breathed her in deeply, I could smell her scent and I imagined that this is what her home smelled like. I imagined her putting her perfume on every morning as if she was putting it on just for me to breathe it in. I ordered the same thing that she was drinking, and then sat across from her in that tiny booth, our legs occasionally touching underneath the table. We talked for hours that night. I admired her ability to be so open with me, but I could almost smell her
desperation. I think she actually wanted me more than I wanted her. The way she touched my shoulder and laughed, or played with her hair while she was talking to me. Taking her life would be easier than I ever thought.
I knew it was the day. I had been waiting for so very long for this day. I never planned that this day would be the day, but I felt it in my soul when I woke up that morning. The sun was shining, through my window as I woke up, and I felt at peace. I felt at peace knowing that today would be the day that I would finally have Annabelle. Just the thought of it gave me chills; the good kind of chills, the kind of chills that little kids get on Christmas right before they’re about to tear into their presents. Only my present would be Annabelle, and the cleanup would be a lot messier than wrapping paper. I showered and prepared for the day, I shaved my beard off just so I could look good for Annabelle today. While I was bringing the razor down my neck I accidentally nicked my skin. I bled for a moment and I watched as the blood slowly trickled down my neck. I imagined what that would look like on Annabelle. I always did love her neck, I wanted to see it as the blood was trickling down it. Ending her life would be the greatest thing that I had ever done.
Annabelle walked into my house to meet me. I saw the excitement in her eyes as she saw me. I knew she loved spending time with me. Little did she know, every time we were together all I was thinking about was killing her. I offered her a tour of my home, to which she gladly accepted. I showed her the upstairs, the downstairs, my room, and the spare bedrooms. Finally we reached the peak of the tour, the basement. I was very prepared for this portion of the tour, because it was my favorite. My basement took a long time to prepare, I had put a lot of effort and thought into what would happen next. The time had finally come, and I had never been more prepared for anything in my life.
She was all smiles until we hit the steps. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, it’s just a basement.” I said, as I was trying to calm her down. She smiled up at and took the first step down into the pit of darkness that would be the last thing she ever saw. One step, it only took one step and one push, courtesy of me, before she fell all the way down the stairs. Perfect. The plan was going perfectly. She was unconscious just long enough for me to do her makeup and dress her accordingly. She was home now, in the dollhouse that I had made just for her.
She awoke with a scared look on her face, god I loved that face. She was perfect. Even after a hard fall down my basement stairs she looked perfect as ever. She looked down at her overalls and pigtails and she was rather confused. I loved the look on her face when she had no idea what was going on. I was in control now, I was the puppet master. She looked around at her perfectly plastic house. To the left of her was her living room, a few steps away was her kitchen, and across the hall was her bathroom. I replicated her dollhouse to look just like the one I found in her closet when I first entered her home. It was her childhood dollhouse but now everything was life size and plastic. The plastic would make for a much easier cleanup.
I watched her for days, I delivered small rations of food, but I never let myself be seen by her. When you play with dolls you never want the dolls to know who is playing with them, so I never showed my face. She cried almost all of the time, but nobody could hear her but me, thanks to my soundproof basement. I loved to just watch her. How she interacted in the dollhouse. I was infatuated with the way she existed. And everything was going just swimmingly, until one day she found a door. Not a plastic door, a real door. She used her plastic stove to try and break it open. I never thought that her tiny weak arms would be able to break that door down but they did. I felt panic rush through me as I watched her start to run. I was all the way upstairs watching her on my webcam, and she was in the basement trying to flee. I was enraged at the fact that she wasn’t happy here, I made this dollhouse specifically for her and now she was trying to abandon me. I grabbed an axe from my closet and I began to run after her. She had made up the stairs and to my living room, where the door to the outside was. She saw me and grabbed a picture frame off the wall to throw at my head. Ouch, that hurt. Not only the fact that a piece of glass got stuck in my head, but that she didn’t want to be here with me anymore. I had fallen to the ground as she shoved me and I saw her scrawny little legs running for the door. All I felt was fear, fear that I would lose Annabelle forever. She managed to get the door open and one foot out. I yelled out at her to stop, but she did not listen. Dolls are supposed to do what they are told, so when she did not do what I told her I threw my axe at her and hit her scrawny leg that was not quite out of the door yet. She fell screaming and crying as I walked towards her one more time. I needed the screaming to stop, so I took my axe out of her leg. Her leg was no place for an axe. Instead I put it into her head, and then her chest, and then her stomach, and then I repeated this motion 10 times, mostly because I prefer even numbers. The screaming finally stopped. I dragged her back down to her dollhouse and I sat her up straight on her couch, and if she were just relaxing. I didn’t want Annabelle to be alone now that she was dead, so after that I went out and killed 23 more perfect girls that could play with Annabelle in the dollhouse, and I have never felt more joy in doing anything else in my life.
People always ask me if I feel remorse. No, I do not feel remorse. The only remorse that I feel is because I got caught and can no longer fulfill what I believe is my destiny. None of the other girls were ever as good as Annabelle. I kept trying to find one, one that would make my tables turn like Annabelle did, but I never found one. So I kept killing, in hopes that I would find another like her. I enjoyed every kill, like I said, Annabelle lit a fire inside of me that I would never be able to put out. Today is my death sentence, and I thought I’d share my story with whomever may read this. Never let anyone put out your fire. The only way I could live was to kill, and now I must die. So I say do what fulfills you, do what makes you feel alive no matter what anyone else thinks. There is no reason in living unless you can feel alive.