[Warning: Violence]


I love that thrill, the adrenaline rush. I love taking away the last breath of another human being. I know that it is wrong, a sin, but it's like a drug. I am a user, I am addicted to that high. I started small, but now I have an enterprise. The police are idiots; they will never catch me.

I had my first high when I was sixteen. The next-door neighbour's cat, Chester, kept coming into my backyard. Every day it was there, without fail. My stupid dog never attacked it, not once. One day the cat was really pissing me off. I couldn't take it anymore. I picked up the knife from the kitchen and I grabbed the cat from the loose skin on it's neck. It was squirming in my hands, poor little Chester. I held the cold, metal knife in my right hand and punctured Chester's throat. Blood spurted out from it's neck. I pulled the knife out of the cat's throat and it twitched a couple of times and then it stopped. Stopped moving, stopped breathing .It just stopped. I blamed it on my dog. To make it more realistic I sliced it's back a couple of times. I felt so powerful, unstoppable.

You might think that it sounds evil but you haven't done it before. It was a thrilling feeling; extraordinary. I took away that cat's life, in a few seconds. I relived that moment so many times. I ached to try it again. It was an indescribable feeling. I have never felt so powerful before; I felt like I could do anything.

Like I said, I started small. I have grown though. With every year I grow older, so does my collection. With every murder, I gain a prize, a trophy. I collect the things that I lost, the things that were taken away from me. I never will get them back, so neither will they.

I am a partner in a law firm. I am well off; I'm practically rich. I own a really large house, it has some fancy façade that my trophy wife convinced me was worth the money. It is a multi-million dollar house; like I said, I am rich.

I hate my wife, I hate her; but she is absolutely stunning. She is happy because whenever she opens her mouth I throw money at her. I don't care that it makes our relationship dysfunctional; she is just going to divorce me and take my money anyway. She makes me furious, angry. She has a little, skinny waist and she was has straight, black, sexy hair. She has light green eyes that shimmer in the light.

I haven't killed for four days now. Like clockwork, I need that high every six days. On the fourth day, I start to stalk my victims, I start to plan. If you want to kill, you might as well do it right. I love the planning though, makes me feel like I am in power. I enjoy stalking them, seeking out my prey. I make it obvious too, just to freak them out. I love the fear that is portrayed in their eyes. The only part of your face you can't manipulate; your eyes. They show your true emotion. I have learnt that you have to look deeply into them and watch them die. That is the only true way to experience a murder.

I have killed thirteen people. The first couple were sloppy, I should have been caught. I had a break for seven years, while I was working my way up to partner in the firm. But this year, I came back, I came back strong. I have tried killing with a gun, a knife, my gloved hands, and various other ways. But I enjoy the knife more, I like having complete control. I enjoy it.

Serena Louise Rein, twenty four years old, a journalist, a very beautiful young woman. Some girls are beautiful and some are just pretty. Serena, she is beautiful, she has huge brown, puppy dog eyes that are shaped like an almond. Her eyes are so stunning. She has a little tiny waist and long legs. She has a baby face. She writes strong, hard hitting articles. Serena is my next victim, welcome to the nightmare.

I chose her because she is popular. Everyone loves her, and her death would spark fear in a calm city. I want to be chased by the police; hopefully a high profile death will bring that chase. I haven't done anything like this before, I need to plan hard. I need to make sure I know everything about her, everything about the situation.

I am sitting outside her building, in my silver Corolla. I am watching her exit the office gracefully. Her hair is pulled up in a tight bun, with a few wispy strands framing her face. Her long-sleeved white shirt his tucked into her black, high, pencil skirt. She is wearing simple, black heels. God she looks amazing. This will be fun, I smile.

I go into the shed where I am going to slice her perfect throat. It is covered with her articles, a personal touch. I put a clear plastic sheet on the floor. There is a cold, metal bench in the centre of the room. I look around admiring my work; it seems so perfect, so appropriate. I have even thought about where I am going to slice her. I cannot wait for day six!

How am I going to lure her to the shed? That is the hardest part, I have to make sure that she doesn't scream and no-one notices. I usually charm the ladies with my perfect smile, and big blue eyes but this won't work with Serena. She is too classy to go home with a stranger. I am going to have to adopt a character. This might be more work than I expected.

Will I pull it off? Am I ready? What will happen if something goes wrong? She is intelligent, she could beat me at my own game. I can't question myself. I know that I am good, I am very good. The police won't catch me, they don't have the resources.

I fix an article that has fallen back to the wall. Then my ringtone goes off.

'Honey, will you be home for dinner?' My wife says with a controlled but happy tone.

'Yes,' I reply quickly.

'Good, we are having a roast.' my wife continues the conversation.

'I have a meeting, I have to go.' I hang up the phone. I know that she hates the fake marriage thing, but she married rich, what did she expect?

I walk out of Serena's room, feeling slightly vulnerable. I jump into the Corolla and turn on my favourite radio show. I sigh heavily; I only have one more day to plan. Only one more day! Serena's day is coming, very soon.

I wake up, rejuvenated. I work on Serena's death for most of the day. I call in sick to work. My wife interrupts me numerous times to see if I'm okay. What the hell, I wish she would just leave me alone. She always gets to me when I am about to kill, it is like she senses it. Sometimes I just want to slice her throat, just to shut her up.

6th Day

Here we go, the sixth day. I have to wait though, a little while. Serena needs to be done properly. I need to take care with her. I cannot rush this case, not this one. I take a deep breath, only a couple of hours.

I drive up slowly, to her office. I am uncomfortable being the limo driver. It feels so cliché. I approach her office. It is lit up brightly. There she is, coming towards the car. Quick get out, open the door.

'Miss Rein.' I smile as I open the door for her.

'Are you my driver? Where is Luke?' She sounds deflated.

'Yes, and he is sick,' I answer. It is nice to know that the man in the boot with the slit throat now has a name.

I walk back around the limo, towards the driver's seat. I put the key in the ignition and start her up.

'Long day Miss Rein?' I ask politely.

'Yeah, a really busy one. What about yourself?' She replies her brown eyes darting from the rear-view mirror to her blackberry.

'It has been pretty quiet actually. Sorry we are going to have to make a detour.' I make a sharp, dangerous turn.

'What, why?' Serena looks up from her phone staring at me with curiosity.

'Construction work,' I answer calmly. Only three streets away.

'You don't go this way,' she says defiantly.

'Like I said, detour.' I say irritated. How dare she question me.

'Can I see some ID?' She asks desperately.

'It is a bit late now, Serena.' I smile a wide smile.

'Oh my god!' She started tapping at her blackberry frantically.

'Hello, police, this is an emergency!' She said into the phone.

'I wouldn't do that.' I stare at her, take my eyes of f the road for a few seconds. I was thrown into the windshield. My vision becomes blurry. I peel my head back from the airbag and see broken glass on the dash-board. I turn my head too fast, and become hazed. I make out Serena's shape fighting with the limo door.

'Don't go.' I say, clawing my way towards her. She lets out an ear piercing scream and put all her weight on the door.

'Help me!' She screams. Her beautiful face seems so frantic, so afraid.

'Shut up!' I yell back at her. She is attracting attention, she can't do that.

'Help!' She fidgets with the door until it breaks free.

I manage to crawl out of a broken window. My leg is impaled with a long, thick sheet of glass. It is bleeding badly, and it makes it hard to walk. I rub my dry eyes. I scream through grinding teeth. I stumble up into a lob-sided stance. I look around me. We are one street away, I can still do this. I just need to find her. I look around; I can't see her, not anywhere. I grab the gun that is tucked in my waist band.

'Excuse me, have you seen Serena?' I ask a dumbfounded lady, who is staring profusely at the gun. I push the gun behind me, out of her sight. Her eyes look up unwillingly at me.

'Have you seen her?' I repeat, feeling almost sorry for her.

'No.' The lady replies, in a tiny whisper. Her eyes quickly dart to her left but then straight up at me.

'Are you sure?' I ask, giving her one more chance, looking over to her left.

'Please no, she is the other way.' The lady is the worst liar I have ever met. She stands in front of the gun, putting distance between it and Serena.

'That's a shame.' I sigh. I lifted my gun to her forehead. I ignore her cries and pull the cold trigger. With a deafening burst her head shot back unnaturally, her body slumped downwards until it found the floor. Her dead eyes looked horrified.

'Could have had fun with you.' I mutter stepping over her limp body. There is blood everywhere; it is a surprisingly rich colour, almost looks like ketchup they use in the movies.

'Serena.' I call out loud. I head to the flipped SUV. It is a massive car, a four wheel drive. So many people drive it around here. I don't get why; they are an ugly looking thing. As I approach it I hear a quiet whimper, it sounds scared.

'Serena.' I say once again, enjoying the moment.

'Please, just let me tend to this man, and then you can take me. He needs this, or he will die.' Serena's petite frame is crouched over a large man. He looks like a biker; he's got the sleeveless jacket and the tattoos.

'How long?' I grunt.

'One minute.' Her eyes haven't even looked up at me, they are focused on him.

'A minute too long.' I say as a pull the trigger and shoot him in the neck. Blood spurts out like a stream. It gets over Serena's pale pink dress, dying it a deep red colour.

'I could have saved him.' Serena says not taking her gaze off the man.

'I have no doubt.' I grab her arm and pull her up. Finally her brown eyes stare directly into mine. She breaks free of my loose grip and starts to run down the long street.

'Serena.' I yell starting the chase. I could barely walk, let alone run. I stand in front of a small Sudan.

'Excuse me, may I borrow your car?' I ask politely.

'No.' The woman says, her sky-blue eyes looking across at her baby. I don't have time for this. I pick up the baby, it wriggled in my grip.

'Oh my god, no!' The woman cried. I point the gun towards the baby, rest it on the baby's forehead. The baby wailed and cried.

'Please!' The woman was screaming, begging me. I threw the baby towards an onlooker, who was watching intently.

'Can I borrow it now?' I ask in a deliberately patronising tone. The woman, who was in shock, numbly started getting out of the seat.

'You're coming with me.' I push her across into the passenger's seat.

I put the car into motion. It drives smoothly. I need to find Serena, I need her. My collection isn't complete without her. I drive like a madman, running over people, objects anything. I need Serena, nothing will stop me. The woman next to me refuses to stop screaming and crying.

'This is the police, cut your engine.' A loud, defiant voice called. Nothing will stop me. The car bumps over a speed hump, and it starts to slow down. I am losing control of the car. It swerves violently to the right. The car flips on itself.

'You alive?' I ask the woman but she is already fumbling with the door.

'This is the police, surrender your weapon.' A squat team, in full gear approached me. I shot one in the hand and then shot aimlessly at the others. All six went to the floor, a couple shot back at me but I was hidden behind the strong metal of the car.

'Surrender your weapon.' The voice repeated. I leaned over the woman and opened the door.

'Make a sound I shoot. Run away I shoot.' I whispered into the woman's ear. We peeled out of the car.

'Stay still, we will shoot.' The voice sounded calm, collected. It had all the control.

'You shoot, I shoot her.' I yelled shoving her into the bright, unnatural light.

'Don't hurt her.' The voice still seemed calm. I pulled the woman back next to me.

'I don't want to hurt you, not yet.' I reassured her. A gun would be too quick for her.

'What do you want?' The voice asked.

'Serena Rein.' I call out. I know they will never give into this demand.

'We can't do that.' The voice sounded disappointed. Maybe I should have asked for a helicopter, and a million dollars, just like those really bad action movies.

'But that is what I want.' I smile. I love frustrating people.

'We don't have her.' The voice said quickly.

'What?' I ask scared for her safety.

'She was run over by a truck on the highway.' The voice said, with a hint of sympathy.

'I don't believe you.' I yelled.

'Why would we lie about that?' The voice asked.

'Then I have no reason to live.' I took the knife out of my pocket. I put it against my throat. I slit it.

In the split second before I committed suicide. I didn't have any remorse. I didn't even think Serena. I thought about what happened to me. I was thinking about when my father cut one of my eyes, and attempted to pull it out. I thought about how I deserved to get back what I lost. The thing with justice is you never get back what you lost. Sure someone gets punished but you never get anything back. I didn't get my eye back. I didn't deserve to get my eye cut out, and I was left with a glass one. I killed for those eyes because I wanted back what was taken away from me.

-news article-

Today, the sixteenth of July, a young man took the city hostage. He killed a total of eleven people and sent six to hospital, all in a critical condition, before taking his own life. He killed eleven innocent people today. This man was the partner of a law firm; he was just twenty-six years old. His name was Kane Johnson. He shot three people in the head, and shot at six members of the police, killing all but one, and then ran over an endless amount of people, killing four and sending five to hospital. Today has been one of the most horrendous killing sprees this country has ever seen. The only thing the Mr Johnson wanted was Serena Rein's eyes. He has a collection of eyes; he has a total of thirteen pairs. He lost one of his eyes. His drunken father cut one of them out as a punishment. He made up for the things he lost. This man still killed eleven people in cold blood. This man was pure evil.
~Serena Rein

BY Cassnadra Hamill