With every step I take the old floor boards beneath my feet creak from the pressure as I carry the unconscious body of a middle-aged man who put up quite a struggle. The living room downstairs is just trashed. The couch is flipped over, the coffee table is broken and glass covers the entire floor as he threw things at me. This is the first real fighter I've ever had. I nudge the bedroom door open with my foot and kick it shut after I lay the man's body down. The room is dimly lit by a single light bulb, the wooden floor is stained a light, red color from the other victim before him. I lift up a floor board and take out a box and some rope. I tie the man's arms and legs to the bed, and for a little extra fun I wrap some rope tightly around his neck, and tie the end of it to the headboard. I take out a nail gun and a rag from the box. Then I get salt and vodka from the kitchen. When I return to the room he's just starting to wake up. "Ah, I see you've finally woken up. Just in time too. You might not want to move your neck so much." I say as he turns his head from left to right. "Every time you move your head the rope around your neck will rub against your throat and if you move enough you'll start to bleed.." His eyes are full of hate and fear as he continues to struggle against the bindings that keep him still. He starts spitting vile words at me and cursing me. I take off the knife that hangs from my belt. "Hush now... We wouldn't want you to have a slip of the tongue, would we?" The man freezes instantly, now fearful of what I might do. I can't help, but giggle at his ugly face. I let a few seconds pass by as I wait for a retort, but he remains silent. "That's a good boy." I say, patting his head.

I lower the end of the knife. "I've read about you. Your name's Charlie, right? Anyway, I know what you've done. What are you being charged for again? Was it ten or eleven counts of rape and three counts of second degree murder?" The man, Charlie, starts to wrestle vigorously with the rope.

"Who are you? What the fuck do you want from me?" He asks, ignoring my question.

"I'm getting tired of those questions. I hate repeating myself and I'm not going to come up with some eerie catch phrase like 'I'm your worst nightmare' or something like that. All you need to know..." I lay the tip of the blade on the man's chest. "...is that you're here to pay for what you've done, and if fate orders it then you shall live, but none have ever survived, so just sit back and enjoy the ride." I run the edge of the blade through several parts of his skin. "How do you think they felt, Charlie? I think they felt quite horrible. They probably can't trust anyone anymore... They must wake up in the middle of the night screaming for help and they have no one to comfort them, because you wanted to feel in control of someone's life." I say, blood trickling out from the cuts on his chest. I wipe the blood away with the rag and pour salt on the cuts. Charlie grunts and gasps from the pain. "Everywhere they go they must always feel like you're watching them. Waiting to pounce again." His skin separates with ease as I drag the knife across his chest. I can see in his eyes that he's afraid. He's trying not to breakdown and cry. "And think about all the women you killed. One of them was only fifteen. A young girl, Charlie. She had so much more life to live, and you took it all away, just like that." I say, snapping my fingers.

"I'm sorry!" He shouts, as I'm about to pour the vodka on him. "If I could take it all back I would. Every night I think about it and wonder 'What have I done?'. I couldn't stop myself."

"You're not sorry... If you were really sorry than you would have killed yourself. To rid yourself of the world. That would show how sorry you truly are." I say, anger turning my face a slight red. I shake my head and move to the bedside table, where I replace the nail gun with the knife in my hand. "I think I've heard enough talking from you." I point the receiving end of the nail gun on the side of his jaw and pull the trigger. Charlie tries to scream out, but blood from the new wound runs down his throat and he starts coughing. "Do you like piercings? I hear a lot of people like nose piercings." I point the nail gun at the side of his nose and fire another nail. "Now that shouldn't have hurt too bad, but I think this will." I point the nail gun at his groin and fire five shots. All Charlie can do is grunt and moan at the pain as he tries to clear his throat of the blood. "At least now you can say you got nailed over the weekend." I say, giggling as I shoot another nail into his left knee cap.

"P-Please... Just e-end it..." Charlie whimpers, tears sliding down the side of his bloody face.

"Mercy is given to those who have suffered a great deal of pain and sorrow." I put the nail gun in the center of his chest. "Not those who bring pain and sorrow upon others." I say, squeezing the trigger. I hear a crunch as the nail breaks through his breast bone and punctures his heart. I grab a pair of pliers from the box on the floor and pull out the nail. Then I sit back and watch as blood pours out of his chest, and over the side of his body.

His body goes limp.