Song: Psycho Killer by Talking Heads

"The first good looking girl I see tonight is going to die."—Edmund Kemper

The drive back home took about twenty minutes. Darkness had arrived. No one was walking on the street. The only sounds I heard were that of insects chirping and frogs croaking; it reminded me of a graveyard.

Because of the silence and darkness, it was easy for me to lift her body from the trunk of my car and take her to the basement.

I placed her on the floor and chained both her hands and legs to the pipe. She began to move and moan, which was an indication that she had awoken.

"I will tell you the same thing I told the last person in this room; do not bother screaming, no one will hear you," I said as she opened her eyes.

Dragging a chair closer, I sat down. "Now... let's talk like adults."

Her eyes danced around the room. "Where am I?"

"You are where no one can find you."

She furrowed her brows. "Who are you and why am I here?"

"Who I am is none of your business, but the reason you are here is definitely your business."

She spat at me. "You are sick!"

I wiped the saliva from my face and laughed. "You've got spunk and I like my women feisty."

The table where all my knives were kept wasn't far away, so I walked up to the table and I picked one knife. "Okay, I will tell you why you are here. However, I kill you after I tell you."

She trembled like a leaf. Sweat began to drip down her face and her breath quickened.

The tip of the knife was so shiny. I just couldn't resist the urge to walk up to her and run it along the side of her face down to her neck.

The rate at which she suddenly became still, you would think I told her to freeze. I could figuratively smell her fear and it was intoxicating.

When her eyes began darting around the room, I knew her fight, flight or freeze response was about to kick in and my hands began to itch in anticipation. Most people tend to choose the fight response without thinking about the consequences.

It didn't take her any more than twenty seconds to make up her mind. She started to kick but it was impossible because her hands and legs were chained together. She stopped kicking, then started screaming when the chains wouldn't break.

I rubbed my forehead. Why are people so predictable?

Shouting at her wouldn't have stopped her from screaming, so I jabbed the knife into her thigh. She froze.

"Good... do I have your attention now?" I asked.

"You just stabbed me, you son of a bitch," she yelled as her body vibrated.

I waved my hands in dismissal. "Stop whining about it, it wasn't even deep."

She tried to reach for me. "I'm going to kill you."

I arched my eyebrows. "How are you going to do that, when you are still chained?"

"Oh." She backed away and kept quiet.

I sat down once again. "Let me tell you a story."

"There was once a young boy. He loved his mother so much and tried to do everything she asked him to do. Some of those things were horrible and dangerous, but his mother did not care, neither was she appreciative. Does this sound familiar?" I asked.

She stayed silent and stared at the floor.

I shook my head. "She would always beat him but before she did that, she'd increase the volume of the music player so that the neighbors wouldn't hear and call the police. She neither fed him nor clothed him, yet the boy still loved her and refused to leave. My question for you, and I want you to be honest with me and yourself, what should be done to such a woman?"

She cried. "I'm sorry and I don't know what made me decide to take out my anger on him. I blamed him for being the reason his father left me. He had another girlfriend and refused to leave her for me. I thought if I got pregnant, he would choose me. Unfortunately, when I told him I was pregnant, he denied it and told me to stay away from him.

"When I gave birth, he looked just like his father and I hated it. I hated his father for leaving me, in turn, I hated my baby. In my crazy mind, I thought hurting him would in turn hurt his father. I never for once stopped to think, but now that I have realized my mistake, I will change."

I stared at her and shook my head. "I can't let you go back, people like you never change. This is me talking out of experience. One day you are saying how sorry you are, then suddenly you have reverted to your old ways.

"One thing you should know is, if a man is going to leave you, he will leave you. If you get him to stay against his will, he will make your life miserable. At the end of the day, it is mostly the children that suffer.

"However, if you are truly sorry, I would give you the opportunity to write two letters. The first one will be to your son; you will apologize, ask for his forgiveness and tell him how much you love him.

"The second letter will be to his father; you will apologize for your mistakes and tell him he has a son. You will mention what a terrible mother you were and how you mistreated your son because you hated him. You will also tell him that you would be dying soon, ask him to please accept your son and take care for him the way you were not able to. Have I made myself clear?"

She nodded as she wiped her tear covered face. The chains rattled.

"Let me get you sheets of paper, pen, and envelope so you can start writing." I stood up and went upstairs to get the stationery.

So she would be able to write, I decided to unchain her hands, "Please do not make me regret this decision." I unchained her.

I handed over the stationery to her and watched her as she wrote. She looked so focused that I would have thought she was writing an exam.

It took her about forty minutes to write both letters. When she finished, she put it inside the envelope I brought and was about to seal it when I said, "Wait!" and collected it from her. She looked alarmed.

"You didn't think I wasn't going to read the letters, did you?" I asked with a smirk.

The words I read sent my heart rate into overdrive. My jaw clenched and my mouth became dry. The letters were squeezed in my clenched fist. I picked up the chair and threw it across the room, it hit the wall and shattered, but I didn't care.

It took me few minutes to calm down, and then I read the letters again to make sure my eyes hadn't tricked me. In the letter to her son, she apologized quite alright but she went ahead to blame him for making his father leave her.

While in the letter to the father of her son, she wrote about her hatred for him, how he left her to raise a child alone. Oh! She didn't stop there. She went on to describe me, telling him to call the police and report me.

How dumb could she be?

She made me weak; I couldn't find the right words to say to her. I just handed her another sheet of paper and made her write another letter.

This time, I made sure she wrote as I had instructed. When she finished writing it, I read it, then I personally put the letter inside the envelope and sealed it.

She scowled. "You think you are a good person, don't you?"

I ignored her and went to keep the letters on the table. The knife I had used earlier was on the table, so I picked it up.

"If you think that trying to right my wrongs justify you killing me, then you are just like me."

I plunged the knife into her abdomen, she gasped.

With a smirk on my face, I twisted the knife inside her. She gasped again and tried clawing my face with her fingernails.

I slowly withdrew the knife out of her, she looked down at her abdomen and saw blood oozing out; she winced.

My smirk increased.

She tried opening her mouth to say something but the words did not come out. I plunged the knife into her abdomen over and over again, watching the light fade out of her eyes. Her hands grew cold and stiff.

She was gone.

"You fell the last bit of breath leaving their body. You're looking into their eyes. A person in that situation is God!"—Ted Bundy

Thank you for reading THE SERIAL KILLER IN ME. Please don't forget to vote, comment, critique and share if you enjoyed it. I appreciate your help.