Desire to Kill? Chapter 1

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The first chapter of my story. It's a fiction serial killer piece where the story will be focused on him. Just need feedback about if I should expand, any mistakes, or if I should end the chapter here.

It was quiet in the fifth floor suite as he waited for his guest of honor to arrive. He let himself in about two hours earlier so he could begin to make the preparations for her ‘surprise party’, as he liked to call it. She and her friends had come down to Florida for the bachelorette party, and he had come down the last night to surprise the love of his life when she returned to get ready for tonight’s activities.

             Her favorite beach scented candles were placed around the room, rose petals littered the floor to form a make shift path leading from the door, through the kitchen and living room, down the small hallway, finally ending in the bedroom. With the lights off and the sun light slowly fading, the room was getting dark and he feared he would have to turn lights on so he could see as he moved around the furniture impatiently. Finally, as he was looking out onto the pools below, he heard the key in the lock and he hurried back to his hiding place in her bedroom.

              After an excruciating five minutes of mindless chatter and laughter from the girlfriends, he heard the door open then close. “Oh Jimmy!” she exclaimed, and he allowed himself a half smile, more than he ever did. “I can’t believe you came all this way just to surprise me!” she said as she placed her bags on the kitchen table, he traced her footsteps in his mind as she followed the rose petal trail. Out of the kitchen and into the living room, pass the television and couch, turning into the hall, and now entering the bedroom. He had to contain himself as she entered, he caught a whiff of her perfume and nearly jumped out prematurely. She made her way to the bed and picked up the letter he had written her.

              Turning around, she sat on the bed reading the letter. Contained in it was everything he had felt for her since they first met in high school, how he made every life choice around her so that he could be, in his words ‘close’ to her. He could see the gears turning in her head as she was trying to make sense of the last line that said ‘Sorry it had to end this way’. He had to make his move now. He closed the door revealing his presence.

              Looking up startled, she tried to make words, but before she could he was swinging the rubber billy club and catching her in the temple resulting in unconsciousness. Moving quickly, he secured her hands to two corner bed posts, then tied her feet together as if she had been placed onto a cross and began to make preparations for when she awoke. Walking into the kitchen he fumbled through the drawers and cabinets looking for her knives, finally after an annoying ten minutes he found them. For some reason he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had forgotten something. Forty minutes later he realized what he had forgotten when an ear shattering scream ripped through the apartment.

              Running back into the bedroom he practically dove onto the bed whilst grabbing a throw pillow and covering her face with it to keep her quiet.  As he mounted her she started to buck and toss in a futile attempt to free herself, but he knew his restraints would hold so he just focused on keeping her face covered so she couldn’t scream again. With one hand holding the pillow, and the other fumbling around looking for something, anything, he could use to forge a makeshift gag out of.

              Growing frustrated he settled with moving forward with his plan. Throwing the pillow to the side he quickly grabbed her by the throat as she tried to catch her breath. Forcibly tilting her head back so she couldn’t scream again, he pulled the knife out of his back pocket and placed it against her throat. Bending down so his mouth was next to her ear he whispered, “This is for not loving me like I loved you.” As he slid the blade across her throat he moved and softly kissed her on the lips, their first, and their last.

 

It was after 10:00PM when he was ready to leave her room. Looking back over the crime scene he admired his work. Her body laid out as if crucified, the restraints still holding tight even after all the struggling, nothing over turned or broken, and his favorite touch, a rose laid on her stomach right below her breasts. He was almost, dare he say, happy?

              After retracing his steps and making doubly sure he could not have possibly left any evidence behind he grabbed his hat from the coat rack and left. With his hat pulled low and his head kept down he made his way towards the stairs as he knew there would be no cameras there. Down two floors and out into another hallway. Keeping his head down he made his way to the stair way on the far side of the hotel that would drop him at the very back of the lobby where he could easily access the door leading into the back alley.

              Reaching the alley, he walked onto the sidewalk walking down a few blocks before hailing a taxicab and riding off into the night. Sitting in the back of the taxi he couldn’t shake an unusual feeling. It was almost as if he had an itch or was craving something. The longer he rode in the taxi the tougher the itch was to ignore, then it dawned on him what it was and he knew. He knew he would have to kill again.

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