I have part two of the sexy little story Christian Jensen and I are writing. This little flash will turn into a full story later. I admit, first person not my gig but it was fun to stretch my evil boundaries. I hope you enjoy… And there is evil in this world – in all of us.
“Fuck me.” What the hell am I doing this shit for? Yeah, my thoughts were always the same this fucking time of night. For some reason I couldn’t stop staring at the bay window, the one leaking the fact there was a full moon hovering outside. Death. There is nothing but death. The taste and feel is always the same. Shivering, I raised my middle finger. There was something damn hot about being so defiant. Closing my eyes briefly I just wanted to fucking punch something. The murders are getting out of hand. He’s goading me. The killer is actually goading me. I knew the murdered realized I was seeing him through the eyes of his victims. I could tell just by the way the victims actions had changed, one more intense than the other. The notes started on the second kill, ones meant only for me. He was daring me to find him. Oh I’ll find you buddy.
No! No! Don’t kill me!
“God damn it.” The visions are getting worse, every atrocity displayed in full color. Why can’t I see the monster’s face? Why can’t I figure out what the hell he wants? How many years have I had to deal with this? Now hearing the girl screaming, realizing the very second the murderer finally put her out of her misery? I took a long drag on the cigarette and sweet Jesus the damn thing tasted better than ever. So much for quitting.
You think you know me, believe you can find me. Think again. I am much better than you…
The sound of his voice. JESUS. The sensuous tone is enough to send electric shocks through anybody. Who is he? Every time I tried to relive the visions I failed. Now I can year his voice but can’t see his face. This is crap. Why the fuck do I have to see every gory detail?
“Detective Lawson. Are you with us? We do have a dead body inside. I should say a mutilated body. If you want to join us that would really be mighty helpful.”
“Having a good day, Jameson? Are you in your element? I have a terrible feeling this case might be too much for you.” Okay so I had to be an asshole. Some partner I have. Yeah. He deserves the crap after sleeping with pretty much every chick in the department. The snicker came easy. He fucked her. He fucked her. Sheila. I have to think of her now? I rubbed my eyes in an effort to push the flash of finding Jameson fucking a woman he honestly thought he was going to marry. Right. Forget it. Let it go. You have a job to do. Some job. Finding four dead women chained to makeshift crosses, their genitals mutilated by various instruments isn’t a job. This is a nightmare. But one you have to fight. Of course I knew the fourth victim would be naked, her hands and feet crucified, blood everywhere. There simply wasn’t any doubt.
“A body. Did you hear? Same MO. Same freak. Same everything. The bastard loves redheads. Sick son of a fucking bitch. We need to solve a case. Oh and would you prefer I call you Brian?”
I wanted to lash out, ripping his face to shreds, the man I once trusted, but why the fuck bother? “I got it. We have the fourth grizzly murder in less than four weeks. If my calculations are correct, and they usually are, he’s upped his game to a kill every five days.”
I could see the look on his face, knew what the jerk was thinking. Telling my former buddy about my visions a year before had been a dumbass move. “The brute strength of the kill, the say in his the slaughter occurred could only mean a person of significant strength. Granted, I’ve met some kick ass female body builders in my time. However, given the sexual nature of the kill, unless we have a sicko lesbian on our hands, we have one wacked out dude perfecting his torture skills.” I had to admit loving the look of discord on Jameson’s face.
“Fine. I agree with you. I suggest we gather the evidence before sunrise lest the pretty little neighbors find media time. Boss ain’t gonna like that.” Huffing, Jameson walked toward the house.
I took another puff, inhaling the smoke as I scanned the perimeter. There was never any evidence of forced entry. The women seemed to have been either waiting for the killer or brought them back to their homes. I thought about the other three women, doing a mental exercise for the fiftieth time. They were all in their late twenties, early thirties with good jobs, decent housing and certainly well to do upbringings. They had little in common other than the fact they were all indeed various shades of redheads. Sniffing, I glanced at the darkened street. Jameson is indeed right about the media. The frenzy will get out of hand.
I stubbed out the cigarette and headed inside, cognizant of every detail. The house was well adorned and very tidy, except for the blood covering almost every surface from the hallway to the living room. The moment I walked into the house the stench forced my stomach into a knot. The smell wasn’t just blood but piss and shit too. My eyes watered as he moved toward the living room. I thought about the poor bastard who had found her and shook my head. The kid would likely never be the same.
The moment I walked into the expansive space I was overwhelmed with the kind of awe I certainly couldn’t mention to anyone. The artistry of the killer, the way in which he’d displayed her was fascinating, damn hot. I bit back a laugh. I notice the others making a wide path as I move closer. There are few in the department who understand me. Whatever. I can’t help but be drawn to the incredible appearance, the maudlin look on the girl’s face and her vacant eyes are mesmerizing. I could tell my heart was beating rapidly and the memory of what she’d been forced to endure…
“What do you think?” Jameson asked as he moved beside me.
“I think he’s just getting started. And I think he’s found his niche. The slaughters will only become more heinous.” I didn’t need the visions to tell me I was right. I simply knew.
Kisses and Spanks…