Addicted to Murder

Jack moved his pawn forward as he played chess with his latest victim. After spending weeks learning his prey's habits, it turned out that chess was this one's idea of a sport. Joining the local chess club had allowed him to ingratiate himself into the victims life, effectively starting a cascade that would end in certain death. Knowing that there was a connection between predator and prey added some level of comfort that made the kill feel more natural. It was imperative that IT liked him. Referring to his victims as IT was one of his rules, one of many, because the secret to murder was deceptively simple. It all boiled down to organization; organization was key. Add a splash of creativity and you had yourself a hobby for life.

His first kill was the pet cat, in the kitchen, with a blunt knife. It had destroyed his birthday cake and his favorite toy. A primal scream of rage erupted from his mouth as he stabbed it multiple times and cut off its head as if to add a full stop to an otherwise gory sentence. Killing was an orgasm of power, a high that made him an immediate addict. The aftermath was a symphony of bloody chaos, but he stood there... staring and enjoying his revenge. Getting caught wasn't part of the plan, but copious amounts of blood on a child usually made any mother panic. Part of him hoped that the years of therapy he was subjected to following the incident would have helped to suppress his urge to kill... they didn't. Killing human beings now gave him a feeling of unrivaled euphoria.

Now he sat in IT's apartment, an open plan studio with minimalist furnishings. The walls were painted pale green and the sofas were an awful shade of yellow. On a side table sat a picture of IT and a woman. There was a kitchen island that would offer the perfect setting for the operation.The was very little chance of being interrupted as his victims girlfriend had gone out of town and it was late enough that no one would stop by. Choosing this particular IT was rather easy. He chose the number thirteen, a symbolic number representing this next catch. The thirteenth floor of a building that was thirteen blocks from his apartment. Located on the thirteenth floor was Harrison and Ford's law firm. The thirteenth person who walked out of Harrison and Ford's , he would kill.

This round, he decided to play a real life game of doctor, removing one organ at a time and seeing how long he could keep death at bay. Various scalpels and a few blood bags were in his backpack just in case. Hopefully his research was sufficient enough to make his kill entertaining. He spiked IT's beer with two flunitrazepam, or roofie as they commonly called it and twenty six minutes later IT was on floor, unconscious. He checked for a pulse to establish a baseline.

With his victim laid out on the kitchen island, he first removed a hand, then used a torch and gauze to stop the bleeding, repeating the motions on the other hand and feet. He moved up to the knees and shoulders and sawed off the remaining appendages from their joints. IT almost died at this point but he managed to keep it breathing. By the time he got to the chest he could barely feel a pulse and not too long after opening the chest, IT died. Apparently he must have hit an artery or something because he was showered in blood like a parody of bloody marry, he had to laugh. Three hours of life wasn't bad for a first timer. Despite the death, it would be a waste not to continue the game so he removed the heart, then the liver, and finally the kidneys. Everything just looked too shredded to care about after that and besides, four hours of fun was enough to satiate him.

He didn't bother cleaning up the apartment, the girlfriend would be coming home tomorrow anyway. A quick call ensured that he had an alibi and he meticulously removed any evidence that could link him to the crime scene. Changing out of his bloody clothes he cleaned his face and hands, donned a pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap, and promptly left through the back door of the building. Arriving back at his apartment, he soaked his clothes in acid, took a shower and sat in front of the television with a sandwich. A sigh of contentment escaping his lips.