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T he news reported another kill I had failed to prevent, all because I had lost him . All because I’d had switched targets— again —and by the time I’d been ready to resume my original track, it had been too late. He’d been long gone, and there’d been no way I would’ve be able to pick up his trail again.

That was the problem with my line of work. There were way too many predatory men in this world and only one of me. The only good to have come out of tonight was I was able to put another one in the ground permanently.

I called an ambulance for the woman—anonymously of course—but I didn’t stick around, not when there was another dead man near where the woman lay. Instead, I disappeared into the night and returned to my apartment, where I—once again—chucked my slasher outfit into the wash and hopped into the shower, instantly melting once the hot streams of water began massaging my back. Slasher. I liked the sound of the that, as if I were the star of my own little makeshift horror movie. I smiled as I pictured myself amongst the greats, something that could’ve happened if it wasn’t for the pitiful realization that this wasn’t a movie. This was real life.

And I wouldn’t be known as a great slasher villain. I would be known as a sadistic serial killer. I guess beggars can’t be choosers.

Barron hadn’t been home when I had returned, and he still wasn’t when I hopped out of the shower. The apartment was eerily quiet, the hum of the washing machine the only sound to permeate the tiny space. I quickly dressed in shorts and a t-shirt before making my way to the living room to watch some TV and await his return, but before I could do so, there was a loud bang followed by a resounding crash. Then, an all-too-familiar scream caused me to jump.

Shit. A woman was in distress now, one of my neighbors. And my slasher outfit was still in the wash, so I had nothing to hide my identity.

But I couldn’t just let another violent man get away with whatever it was he was doing.

Before I could change my mind, I dashed into the kitchen for supplies. Some leftover rope Barron used for a school project, the grey hoodie he had left draped over his chair from the night before, a face mask, duct tape…and then, my eyes landed on a power drill Barron must have left out.

My mouth practically started salivating.

I picked it up and pressed the power button, and the resounding noise it made as the drill spun shot a thrill down my spine. Perfect, I thought as I turned towards the door. I had another man to kill, and this one, I hoped to make nice and slow.

As I stepped out of my apartment, making sure to close the door behind me, I quickly realized where the commotion was coming from. Because the door to the apartment directly across from mine had completely fallen to the floor. The doorframe was splintered and cracked, and the door itself was nearly broken in half. Further into the apartment, I could hear muffled groaning sounds, and determination mixed with anger flooded my veins as I stepped inside. The wood from the door snapped underneath my feet with each step I took toward the strange sounds, my heart on overdrive. I had no idea what I would find, and that thought was terrifying, but the thought of what I would do to the man who caused this was what kept me going.

And when I finally reached the scene, I wasn’t surprised to find it was in a bedroom. The woman was still conscious but cowering in her bed, and the man towered over her with what appeared to be a belt in his grasp, his back to me. Neither one had noticed me yet, but that wouldn’t be the case forever.

I tightened my grip on the power drill. Raised it so it was the same height as his head. And then, I brought it down as hard as I could, watching as the man crumpled to the ground in an unconscious heap, all while the woman watched, wide-eyed and flabbergasted.

I smiled at her and waved.

Let the games begin.

Sometimes, I forgot how much most people could not handle my line of work, even when it was directed at someone who had set out to harm them. Shortly after I had knocked her perpetrator unconscious, the woman had passed out from shock. Though this technically made my job easier, it was unfortunate that her body still viewed me as a threat even though I had no intention of harming her.

No matter, I told myself as I dragged the man out of the bedroom and into the bathroom along with one of the dining room chairs from the main area. I turned on all sources of running water to drown out as much sound as possible before removing the man’s clothes, hoisting him onto the chair next to the shower and fastening his limbs and torso to the wood with the rope. Now that he was bare before me, I got a good look at him. The man was tall, pale, and scrawny-looking, but scrawny didn’t mean shit when he used his power to dominate those the patriarchy deemed were beneath him.

Looks can be deceiving.

I stalked forward. Turned the power drill on and off, a clear form of power play. I felt high off the adrenaline rush, practically mad-drunk with power, and I pointed the drill at the bridge of the man’s nose as if it were a loaded gun and pretended to shoot, nearly cackling as I pictured a bullet piercing the tender flesh directly between his eyes.

Some may say I was a psychopath. If only they knew that wasn’t an insult to me but a compliment. I owned that label, relished in it even. I had dreamed about the day I would be able to give predatory men a taste of their own medicine for years , and now that I was finally able to do so, I wanted them to know in the final moments of their life what true psychological pain and torment felt like up until it is time to end it all.

I grabbed the showerhead and sprayed ice-cold water all over his face. At first, nothing happened, and I moved the showerhead closer so the stream shot dead-center in between his eyes, causing water to cascade down the middle of his face and dribble down his chin. His shoulders jolted, and an audible gasp escaped his lips. His eyes flew open, wide and dazed, and he whipped his head around, his chest rising and falling in short, fast sprints.

The man was confused and frightened. I could see it in the way he tried to move his limbs only to realize they have been securely tied to the chair, in the way he was frantically trying to look around the room, searching for the person who did this to him, and even in the way his fingernails dug into the wood of the chair, showing just how tense he was. It gave me great pleasure to know I was the cause of the man’s suffering, and I quickly put the showerhead away to stand directly behind him. With the way he was tied up, there was no way he would be able to turn his head in my direction.

I smirked, my heart thumping with glee. The possibilities were endless.

I reached out, my fingers lightly skimming the back of the man’s neck and sending shivers down his spine. “Wh-who’s there?” he stammered, trying—and failing—to muster up any sort of bravado and control he could. “I swear, when I get out of here, you’re dead, you hear?”

I clicked my tongue and shook my head. It was time to show this man who was in charge here because it was definitely not him. I grabbed his right ear with two fingers, stretching it out. The man froze for a brief moment before trying to pull away, but not before I shifted so I could use the rest of my body to keep his head in place.

I aimed the power drill at the meaty part behind where his ear met his head and powered it on. He tried even harder to pull away, his breaths turning to quick pants before becoming full-blown screams once my drill finally made contact with flesh. Blood welled to the surface and mixed with the broken, whirling flesh as I literally drilled a hole through his ear, piercing it in the most unconventional method imaginable. And throughout the entire endeavor, the man wouldn’t shut up, not until I was done.

I took a step back to admire my handiwork. The piercing was still weeping blood but otherwise seemed to be fine. The man, on the other hand, was sniveling like a big baby, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Man-child was more like it.

“Oh, just stop your sniveling!” I snapped as I finally stepped into the man’s view. “I can’t believe this—crying over a little, itty-bitty piercing! You big baby!”

The man froze, his gaze traveling up to meet my own, and his face went white. “W-w-what…what is…who…how…”

“Aw, speechless, are we? Pathetic.” I scoffed, brandishing the power drill again. “Let’s say we do the other ear, shall we? I think you’d look really cute with diamond studs. Or maybe gold hoops!”

The man started vehemently shaking his head, droplets of blood fanning out from his ear to splatter the walls of the shower he was next to. “Please—no—I don’t know who you are, but please…I can’t.”

“Like I said, pathetic.” I shook my head. “You got a name? What am I saying? It doesn’t matter. I’m just gonna call you Randy. What was that, Randy?” I jerked my thumb in the direction of the bedroom. If that woman had woken up, I hope she’d have the sense to get the hell out of here. “What were you doing in there, Randy? With the woman? Were you planning to hurt her, Randy?”

Randy opened his mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again. “I wasn’t gonna do anything to her! The bitch was?—”

Anger flared up in my veins, but I quickly tamped it down. There would be time for that later, but for now, I wasn’t quite done with my fun. “Ah, ah, ah, calling a woman a bitch. Now, that’s not very nice.” I leaned closer to him and brought the drill to his face. “Especially a woman in distress.”

Randy narrowed his eyes. “Even if I were gonna do something, I can do anything I want to her. I’m her husband!”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, Randy-o. So wrong.” I turned on the power drill and shouted, “Now, let’s see about that other piercing, shall we?”

As his eyes widened in fear, Randy stiffened and vehemently shook his head. “No! Bitch! I’ll kill you! I?—”

His screams were even more deafening this second time, the blood even more prominent as the wet sounds of my drill tearing through flesh cut through his words. I had learned from anatomy class earlier this year that ears were one of the most sensitive parts of the human body, as they contained a lot of receptors. And as I drilled that hole clean through his own ear, I imagined the pain he must be feeling.

It was only what he deserved.

But now, the dude wouldn’t shut up, the sound practically grating on my ears. He was being too damn loud, and despite the shower on at full blast, if he became any louder, I’d have a problem. Time for the duct tape. I retrieved it from where I had placed it next to the leftover rope and used the drill to cut off a sizeable piece. Then, I returned my attention to the man-baby before me and slapped it directly over his mouth. The sound instantly muffled, and I relaxed. Because now, I could continue.

I took a step back, my finger poised over the trigger, face and clothes streaked with blood. Playtime was over. I was done talking to the dude, and it was time I went for something that had more…lasting effects. I cocked my head to the side and cackled, Randy’s terrified eyes following me like a hawk as I approached the sad-looking area between his legs. His cock was limp and pathetic-looking, definitely not the huge, magnificent sight macho guys liked to boast about. I dropped to my knees and gave it a solid pump, then two, watching it react to my touch and thicken ever so slightly, all the while glancing at Randy behind hooded lashes. Confusion marred his features as he watched me until realization dawned on his face, and he gave another muffled cry as he started shaking his head.

But by then, it was already too late. The drill was already cutting into the head of his cock and traveling downward, peeling it open as if it were a banana. Blood and viscera sprayed out of the organ, soaking my face, neck, and entire front half of my shirt. My hair was greased with the substance, red dripping down to plop onto the tile below. And still, I continued to eviscerate his manhood, all the while the man screamed.

But then, as if someone flicked a switch, the screaming suddenly stopped. I quickly glanced up from my handiwork and noticed Randy’s head was slumped forward, his eyes beginning to gloss over. Drool pooled from his mouth to dribble down his chin, and his eyes were closed. One look at the slow rise and fall of his chest told me he was still alive, just passed out.

Though he wouldn’t be alive for long. Pity.

There was only so much pain the human body could take before it shut down to protect itself, but I still wished that weren’t the case. A sadistic part of me wanted Randy awake so he could feel every morsel of pain I was to inflict upon him.

No matter. Just kill him and be done with it. Playtime’s over anyway.

I pressed down on the trigger and drilled through both of Randy’s eyes. Then, I drilled an arc across his neck, thus completing the kill. And last was writing his crime on his chest so whoever found him would know exactly what he did to deserve his fate.

ABUSER.

I returned to the bedroom soon after only to find the woman exactly where I left her, still passed out. Relief surged through me at the steady rise and fall of her chest, indicating she was okay and now safe. Then, I grabbed my stuff from the bathroom and left the apartment shortly after, not even bothering with the police. Someone else had already called them, if the sound of sirens directly outside the building was of any indication, and the only thing I could do now was to return to my place, take yet another shower, burn my clothes in the fireplace, and clean and sanitize my weapon.

Barron still wasn’t home when I returned, giving me plenty of time to do so. And he still hadn’t returned a good hour or so after I had finished. The police were obviously already on the scene I had left behind, if the shuffling and muffled voices from the apartment across the hall were of any indication. My heart leapt up in my throat as I thought about what this could mean. I tried being as careful as I could, but given how rushed I had been in the moment, the potential for mistakes was huge. And I had no way to explain to Barron what happened if the police came knocking on the door.

But they didn’t, and they were long gone before my cousin finally stumbled in. I watched from my peephole as a stream of paramedics took the woman to the hospital, and after doing one more sweep of the place, the cops followed suit.

And once Barron returned home with a fresh set of dark bags resting under his eyes, it was well after midnight. It seemed his night had gone rough as well. I got up off the couch to greet him, but he held up a hand to stop me, offering me a small smile and a shake of his head. Then, he disappeared into his room for the night without uttering a single word to me.

Weird.