Well hello. I've been debating putting this story on here, but I finally decided to go through with it. It's a little short, but it's everything I had in my head. So, give me some feedback if you wanna see more of this, because if I don't get a ton of positive reviews, this is going to sit on the internet and wilt away, forgotten. :D So yeah, read. AND REVIEW.


"What is your name?"

"Jonathan Riley."

"Are you willing to confess to your crimes?"

The man smiled into the video camera, sitting casually in his chair, like he did this everyday. "Obviously."

Detective Howard leaned forward anxiously, awaiting this sick man's confession. He still couldn't believe the Artist was caught. Four long years this man has been out in the world, polluting it with his very presence. The detective curled his hands into fists. If only he could give him what he deserves right here and now.

"Tell us, Mr. Riley." Howard demanded, teeth clenched.

The black-haired, green-eyed man gazed into the camera with a smirk. "My name is Jonathan Riley, and I am a serial killer. This is my story..."

Chapter 1

"My first kill was back in my junior year of college. She was doing the same major I was, in art, and we had most of the same classes. I saw her everyday. I didn't have a problem with her. In fact, she was probably the nicest girl I've ever met."

"Jon! Hey, wait up!"

I slowed to a stop and waited for the girl with long blonde hair and the biggest smile to catch up. "What's up, Julie?"

"I saw that painting you did in class and I just wanted to tell you how amazing it is! Seriously, Jon. I wish I was half as talented as you," she smiled hugely. That smile never seemed to leave her face.

I chuckled, "Julie, you are a way better artist. Don't be so modest."

Her eyes crinkled with delight as she laughed, and I noticed that she was very beautiful. I had the weirdest urge, but I didn't know what for. "You're the modest one!" She insisted.

"Nah. I know I'm wonderful," I joked faux-arrogantly. Julie laughed and pushed my shoulder playfully.

"Oh hey! Are you going to Micheal Walter's party tonight?" she asked. I saw a hopeful gleam in her eyes, and I realized exactly what she was hinting at.

"I guess I am." I looked into her bright blue eyes and smiled. "Would you like to accompany me?"

I saw her excitement immediately when I asked. "Of course! I mean-- yes, I will accompany you," she blushed, flustered.

"Great," I replied. "I'll come by your room about seven. See you then." I left her standing in the middle of the hall, her trademark grin in place.

Later, I was getting ready for the party. I showered and picked out clothes that I thought looked pretty decent and I contemplated shaving. It wasn't that bad, but... it couldn't hurt. It was fifteen minutes to seven so I quickly slathered on shaving cream and picked up my razor.

"Ouch! Shit!" I threw the razor down, angry, and looked in the mirror. A gash decorated the left side of my chin and blood was welling up from it. Fascinated, I reached up and wiped the dark red liquid from my face and looked at it closely. There was something about blood that intrigued me. I licked my finger unthinkingly and tasted in the coppery flavor.

The clock read 6:58. I cursed again and quickly finished shaving. I wiped my face clean and put a band-aid on the cut, then practically ran out the door. When I reached Julie's dorm room and apologized for being a few minutes late, she still had that grin on her face.

"That's okay, Jon. It's not a big deal," she assured me. Relieved, I led the way outside and we walked to the house Michael and his friend's lived in on campus, making small talk on the way.

"Hey," Julie interjected suddenly. "What happened to your face?" Her small fingers brushed gently along my jaw line, right under the band-aid.

"Oh, it's nothing," I told her. "Just cut myself shaving."

Without warning, she stood on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. A blush crept onto my face, "What was that for?"

"Did it make it feel better?" she asked, beaming at me.

A reached up to touch my cheek where her lips had been. "A bit," I answered.

Micheal's place was two stories, and completely packed by the time we got there. Music was playing but all I could hear was the bass pumping throughout the house. People were dancing nonetheless, bumping and grinding like there was no tomorrow. Others were lounging around, typically drinking beer. It is a college party after all. The only thing missing is a keg stand.

"Chug! Chug! Chug!"

Oh wait, there it is. Julie grabbed my arm, so as not to be lost in the crowd, and we weaved in and out of strangers, looking for people we knew.

"Jon!" I turned to see my best friend, Gary, drunkenly dancing next to a girl I didn't know. I pulled Julie over to him, laughing. "Julie! Guys, have a beer!"

"You know I don't drink, Gary!" I yelled over the bass and the excited party-goers. Julie, on the other hand, accepted the plastic cup he passed her and took a sip from it.

"I usually don't drink that much either," Julie told me, "but I like to have some fun every now and then!"

I shrugged and smiled. "I can have fun without being intoxicated," I winked, and she laughed a musical laugh.

We danced for awhile, simultaneously talking and laughing. I didn't need alcohol. Julie's presence in itself was intoxicating. Her laugh, her smile, everything about her exuded happiness. It was impossible to be in any kind of bad mood around her.

"Joooon! This is so great!" Julie exclaimed. She was spinning around, her blonde hair whipping about her face. Three beers were in her system, she was definitely drunk. I decided it was time to take her home to avoid any humiliation on her behalf.

"Hey Gary!" I tapped his shoulder to get his attention away from a girl he was trying to hook up with. Typical Gary. "I'm taking Julie back to her room!"

"Whatever, man, whatever!" He yelled back, not even bothering to turn around in his drunken, yet focused, state. I put my arm around Julie and led her to the front door. It was a relief to be outside, the inside suffocated with so many bodies.

"Where we goin'?" Julie slurred. She giggled and looked up at me.

"Back to your room, Jules." I caught her as she tripped, laughing giddily.

She put a hand on my chest. "Oooh, my room, huh?"

"Hey, don't get any ideas," I chuckled.

Julie leaned into me as we walked, and I was very aware of it. "Why not?" she asked seductively, "Don't you want me, Jon?"

We were already at her dorm, making our way down the hall and to her room. "You're drunk," I informed her.

She opened the door when we got to her room and dragged me in. "I know," she giggled and looked around. "My roommate won't be back til tomorrow, she's spending the night at her boyfriend's."

"Julie... I'm not going to take advantage of you." I stepped back as she closed the door and pranced over to me.

"Come on, Jon," she urged. She threw her arms around me and planted her lips on mine. It caught me off guard, and for a moment the desire got to me, and I kissed back. Her lips were soft and gentle. Then I remembered she was drunk. I quickly broke away and grabbed her shoulders to keep her from doing it again, though I did very much want it.

"No. This kind of decision can't be made while you're smashed."

Julie sighed, defeated. "Fine," she huffed. Her smile was not gone long though, it returned as she asked, "Will you at least stay for a little while?"

I smiled back at her. "Sure, Jules." We settled down on the couch and watched television, her head on my shoulder. I could tell she would fall asleep soon. When she did, I eased her head onto a pillow and got up, covering her with a blanket. She'll be embarrassed tomorrow when she remembers what she said to me. I laughed quietly, imagining her blush and stammer.

I was almost out the door when light from the television caught on a shiny object. I looked over to the kitchen that was to the right of the door. A steak knife. A set of them on the counter. I could not break my gaze from them for some reason. Before I knew it, I was holding one. The biggest one. I saw my own green eyes staring back at me in the flawless metal. My mind strayed back to earlier tonight when I cut myself shaving. The blood.

I wanted more blood. I wanted to touch it, to see it. I was consumed with this need, my thoughts became hazy, unpredictable. I didn't remember walking to stand in front of Julie. I didn't remember the actual action of slitting her throat. But I did remember the remnants of a scream as she woke to see me with a knife. And the blood. The sweet, red nectar all over my hands after I stole her life. I didn't know how long I stood there, admiring her still-warm blood.

I went back to my room after washing off in her bathroom, taking the knife with me. I knew I couldn't leave that behind. They would find me if I did. I killed her. I should feel horrible. I should be weeping with regret. But I'm not. Because... because...

Because I enjoyed it.

"I didn't sleep that night. I stayed up for hours, remembering it. Savoring it. All I could think was... Well, that smile of hers. It wasn't on her face anymore."