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I didn’t come to the party, or even upstairs, with the intention of killing Tamara. All I wanted was for her to notice me, to see that I’m a better catch than Kyle.
But that’s not what happened.
I arrived a recent high school graduate, and I’m leaving a murderer.
Alabama, 2019
“Last call!”
I lift my empty beer bottle, and when the bartender notices, he makes his way to my end of the bar.
“Another or do you wanna settle up your tab?” he asks as he tosses the bottle into the trash.
“One more.”
I’ve been sitting here at Blarney’s Bar, a little hole-in-the-wall joint on the outskirts of town, for several hours, watching, hunting. Five years have passed since my first kill, and it’s been five months since my most recent… It's time.
“Here ya go,” the bartender quips when he slides a cold beer across the bar toward me.
I tip the bottle to my lips and spin on the stool to continue surveying the room. It’s almost two in the morning, and the crowd has thinned a little but not so much that I worry I’ll be easy to remember when a body is found.
When I strangled Tamara five years ago, I never thought I’d end up where I am today. You see, I’m a serial killer. And I fucking love it.
A woman steps up to the bar, and I stare at her out of the corner of my eye.
She’s the one.
“Hey, Joe,” she calls out. “Can I get two more shots of tequila?”
“Coming right up, D,” he replies with a smile.
D? That could be so many things… Diane, Debbie, Devin, Darla, Demi, Danielle, Daisy?—
“Daphne,” she says with a smirk. “I swear, you only use my initial because you can never tell me and my sister apart.”
“Not many people can, Daphne,” Joe replies with a chuckle.
“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles. “Hey, I’m gonna run to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
It’s now or never.
As soon as Daphne rounds the corner, disappearing down the hall toward the restrooms, I slide off the stool and casually stroll after her. No one pays me any attention which is perfect.
I reach into my pocket and wrap my hand around the foil packet, assuring myself that I’m prepared. After Tamara, I spent time honing my craft, perfecting my skills. My first kill was unintended and sloppy. But as soon as I walked out of that house, I knew I’d be taking lives for as long as I was lucky to breathe. I found my purpose that night, the darkness within me that begged to be set free every once in a while.
I’ve had quite a bit of practice since Tamara, and I’m sure my victims were happy to donate themselves to my… studies.
“Someone’s in here,” Daphne snaps when I open the door to the women’s bathroom.
She’s standing at the sink, reapplying her lipstick like some whore who’s planning on getting some when she leaves here for the night.
“I know,” I say as I turn the lock.
“Hey, man, this is the wom?—”
Crack!
The back of my hand connects with her cheek, and her head whips to the side. Daphne’s eyes widen with fear, and my cock springs to life.