Post by Isabela on Aug 7, 2007 12:08:06 GMT -6
*Ummm has a little bit of murder, just to warn you ahead of time.Oh and sorry for it being so so so so long ;D
People seem to sicken me lately, I don’t know why, they just do. I, being human myself, wonder why one would sit and talk to another when it is obvious that they don’t like each other. My first thought would be to silently observe my threat, then think of cruel ways to punish them. However I’d probably end it with a simple death, torture takes time.
I still remember the first day I chose my victims, they were a group of teenagers in my physics class, I was one of their so called friends. There was Josh Backer, also known as JB apparently he was a lab genius. His nails irritated me, they were so long and…and… it doesn’t matter they just irritated me, I almost killed him on the spot. Really it wasn’t his nails or hair gel that angered me, something about the way he talked and sounded made me feel like I was going crazy. Our next victim is Isabella, she sat to the right of JB her, morbid little self, I laughed when I killed her, she didn’t even know it was coming and all she talks about is death. This is exciting I can’t wait to describe the actual murder, but please I shall first finish naming my corpses. Chris McGee is next, he sat beside me, oh how he liked to talk about how kind and gentle and blah blah blah, ha he cried like a little girl. Last but not least there was Josh 2; his last name slips my mind, really though it’s not important.
For months I watched them chitter0chatter across the table, forcing myself to participate in their pathetic attempt to socialize. With each conversation came new ideas on how to end their worthless lives.
Oh dear me, I must have forgotten I am Abby , the one who is telling this story, let me make myself clear I’m not always like this just on my bad days so please don’t judge me so quickly.
Of course I waited a few years before I completed me tasks, I needed to study their routines as much as possible and know what happens during the day and night. I don not consider this to be stalking, I think of it as a study of human life, or more like a scientist watching a lab rat. Anyhow, I memorized everything they did, even the things that were important still burn in my head, items and people of value. I did not plan to kill their family members, just see if they may nose their way into my business.
Josh Baker, JB lived in a small town in the state of Arizona. I remember the sun burning my skin, I cursed JB the whole time, how could anyone live here? The dry air burning pushing against my face, I licked my lips which burned and itched due to the wind. JB actually lived in a mobile home in the middle of no where. I could kill him however I wanted and no one would hear his painful cries, how brilliant.
The early morning was cool and the sun had not risen yet, my subject was still sleeping off a hangover. Each night JB left for work at eight in the evening, his shift started at five. Although in my mind this didn’t matter three or four hours late at an old worn out strip joint, in which no one ever attended. He came home sometimes around midnight, depending on what time he began drinking.
In the trailer a single bedroom and living room/kitchen lay buried underneath piles of trash and clothes. A shotgun was hidden by some news papers in a closet. Funny thing, even if he would’ve tried using it, the bullets were in between his mattresses next to the dirty magazines. Poor boy, I always knew he would end up some lonely loser; it only makes it easier to kill.
As I studied the rest of my surroundings I found that the nearest neighbors were three miles away, a group of white trash. By this time he had already left for work; I just needed to wit for him to come back home.
JB drove his rickety old truck up to the trailer, it wheezed and coughed then died. I thought the door to the 1946 Ford truck would fall off; it’s amazing what a person would drive just to stay cheap. He took a few minutes to push the rusted door closed, when he though he was finished he headed towards the trailer, I watched the door to the truck drop to the ground, how surprising.
JB was home early was home early, it was only around nine in the evening, he must have gotten fired. Staggering through the threshold of his door, I thought about rigging his shotgun so that anyone who opened the door would be blown away. Soon however I turned it down; I would need something more powerful or exciting. I crept up to the window and peered in, he sat on the couch, his yellow stained shirt uncovered his hairy belly in which he began scratching, how disgusting. Then he suddenly stood and went to the kitchen, as if he realized something.
“Oh I knew you had something to eat you old dog” he said out loud, I took a look around the kitchen; the fool was talking to himself. “Let’s go put this here can of beans on the pit” he said tossing the can in the air, and failing to catch it.
I remember seeing the pit, or fire pit, before, it was right in front of the door, just a yard or two away. He threw open the door so fast I barely had time to dodge it, I rolled on my stomach under the trailer and watched. JB put the whole can on the fire, without opening it first, I guess he didn’t know that with enough pressure it could explode. Fortunately it didn’t take long for him to open it and taste whether it was hot or cold.
He scoffed down the beans with a cough then a choke, maybe if I left him alone he’d kill himself. Enough of this, I’ll take him down right now, were my thoughts exactly and that’s what I did.
I crawled to the back of the trailer, dusted myself off and pulled out my gun. I feel that guns are impersonal; I’d like to use the knife but in order to slow the prey you have to stun him. I walked around the corner took aim and shot him in the right shoulder. He looked at me, at the bullet wound, then me again, then back at the wound. The look he gave me was priceless. He fell forward onto the ground, then flipped on his back and looked at me with horror in his eyes. Those were the first to come out, the eyes I mean. I used a fork he had set aside for the beans. First though I had to tie him up, he let me tie his hands and feet without a struggle, I thought that was a little odd.
I stabbed his eyes with the fork and scooped them out; then I made him eat them. With my knife I peeled off the skin on his head taking the hair off and revealing the skull. Next I ripped the nails from his fingers, cut off his nose , ears, toes, and fingers, making him eat each of them.
I went inside to find a necessary ingredient, alcohol. I poured it all over JB, drowning his wounds, specifically his scalp and eyes. He cried and screamed thrashing around and finally passed out. I took this time to cut out his tongue and waited for him to wake up.
“Okay JB right now I’m about to cut open your legs and see if I can find something interesting” I said calmly. I took the knife and slowly cut the skin down to his shin. I parted the flesh and started to saw the bones, when I was done, I tied one end of a rope around his neck and the other end to the bumper of his truck. I started it with trouble, but once it was going I was set, I pulled it into gear and began driving.
I looked in the rear-view mirror and found that the bumper had fallen off, irritated now I dragged JB to the front bumper and tied him up, he was still alive then.
I drove into the middle of nowhere, dropped the broken body off and let the wild dogs have him.
My little car waited for me on the outskirts of town I drove JB’s car further away from town, tore off my gloves and caught it on fire. I walked to my car and began driving to the home of my next victim, Chris McGee.
Originally Isabella was going to be next, but when I found out that she was in a mental house, I wanted to save her for last, after all she’s not going anywhere.
On my way back to Texas I thought about how I could kill him, but nothing came to me. From what research told me, Chris was still living with his mom, he was married to a woman and already had two kids. The three mistresses he has are all pregnant and oblivious of the other.
On my arrival I knocked on the door, apparently some of my research was wrong, his mother lived next door, I guess I was mistaken because she was over their house so frequent that she practically lived there. “Are you the mother of Chris McGee?” I asked the shriveled human, she pushed her thick glasses closer to her face.
“No, I’m his mother-in-law. Who are you may I ask?” She let me in and gestured for me to take a seat.
“My name is Abby, I’m an old friend of his” I answered, she was so nice and sweet, I just couldn’t murder her. We talked for about an hour, had a little tea and a couple of cookies. Mrs. Rice told me of Chris’ mischievous ways and how much her daughter was hurting, like I cared.
I waited for Chris after work; the daily routine consisted of, a visit with his little tramps then a few hours at a bar, then home to his wife. This time I accidentally rammed his car with mine, on a more deserted road.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see you” I explained, he tried repeatedly to turn on his car in which I rigged earlier to die. Somehow he managed to get it started, but now it was dead.
“Here, I’ll give you a ride to where you need to be” I said, hesitantly he got in. We drove silently, except for the directions to his house. I sped up and locked the doors, he looked at me then tried the door handle, useless. My gun was pointed at him from under coat, he saw it when I pulled it out.
“Wh-what do you want?” he stammered, keeping his eyes on the gun
Just keep quiet for now, I’ve got a few plans that we need to speak of”, Chris was so scared, I smiled the whole way.
Actually I had no idea where I was going, sort of just driving until I see something, in which I did. It was a lumber mill, lots of fun tools there.
At first Chris was a little rebellious he tried to run a few times, but to no use, my gun proved to be more help than I expected. I have never seen the inside of a lumber mill so I was surprised to see all the heavy equipment and sawing materials. Chris freaked out, I mean no man I ever killed had started screaming and crying before I started cutting.
He tried to fight me, but he wasn’t very good at aiming, the punch barely caught my chin. At that same time I brought my gun across his cheeks, he squealed like a little girl. He kind of sat stunned on the floor, I helped him up and put him on a belt. The belt led to a machine that shaves the bark off of the tree. Knowing that Chris would fight I searched for a nail gun, when I found one my excitement grew. I placed one nail in the center of the palm another in his wrists on the both hands. The nails were long in length and very rusted. Stapling a few more in the shoulders, thighs, and ankles, I proceeded in finding the switch to run on the machine.
It started with a loud clank and moving wheels, the whole factory came to life. Chris was slowly being eaten by the machine, I leaned over to watch the blades scrape off flesh from his body. Shreds of clothes flew every which way as did pieces of skin.
He screamed bloody murder, yet I couldn’t help but feeling pity for him, but that didn’t stop me, he moved into the next machine. This device contained small drills, which randomly drilled into the wood, or body in this case. The first hole was in the chest, I feared it would poke through his heart but it slightly moved to the side puncturing a lung.
When he was all done with that, I had to stop the belt for the next machine would have killed him for sure. I ripped his Body from the belt, some nails popped out while others didn’t. I dragged his body to a device that rolled logs onto the belt, thankfully a log was already loaded it just needed to be pushed into position. I slowly pushed the log onto his legs, I even thought I heard the crunch of his bones. I pushed it up about midsection then let it fall back. The noises he made at first sound nothing like a human, however his cries began to sound like that of a little girls.
Still hanging to life Chris pleaded with me to let him die, or rather to kill him.
“Please, please, please kill me…” he cried, squeezing his eyes shut. I smiled and pulled out my gun, pointed at him, then stopped. He had kids and a wife, which were reasons for him to live , ending it now would stop all his suffering. I put my gun away and looked down at him.
“no Chris I’m going to let you live, now you remember what this taught you about life,” he really did look pathetic.
After I left I found a new car and bounded towards my next friend, Josh T. Chris was later found in the mill still living and half crazed. I suppose he could tell them about me, but then I’ll be long gone, just two more visits and vacation starts.
Josh was in Los Vegas, up to no good I assume. He lived in an apartment, his room was on the very top floor, the penthouse. After a time of failure Josh made it lucky one night when he won the jackpot. Since then money has been pouring out of everywhere. But that’s not his job. Even though he is filthy rich he works as a sports caster on the side. The only flaw with his lifestyle is was the late night visits.
Quite often he would search the streets for people who could give him certain needs. I say people because women were not the only game he sported. Sometimes a male accompanied him to his home and would leave early the next morning. With all that I have seen so far, this one was the most disgusting.
The building he lived in was very fancy and hard to enter, the security was very strict. Although I did manage to just climb through a window to get in, I have to admit the front and back doors were impenetrable.
Josh had just gotten back from a “drive” and a little hanky-panky was going on in his room. In Josh’s case I brought my own equipment.
I had to be careful with this one, Josh was a big time gambler now, so I ‘m sure he has killed a few men before. When he was working one night I searched his home and found hidden guns in every corner.
I knocked on the door, a few minutes later he finally answered. He looked like a snobby rich man, wearing half of a tuxedo. Immediately he pulled me inside.
“What are you doing here? I told you never to come to me for business, I come to you.” he said angrily. I felt the blood drain from my face, the idiot thought I was a prostitute he had been with before. I felt insulted, I don’t look like a diseased sleeper. (forgive my foul language)
Anyhow he let me in, he didn’t want people to know about his appetite. He got me a drink, I managed to slip a little drug known as the date rape drug into his cup. Although I didn’t plan on performing a rape, I did want him to fall asleep. It only took a few minutes to work, then he was on the floor sleeping. His friend left before anything started, “it” was lucky for I would have treated it as it is, a nasty disease that needs to be destroyed.
Set up was easy, I put two machines on the left and right side of his body. I pulled his hands over his head and nailed each finger to the ground. His legs were tied together by barbwire, tightly wrapped around his ankles.
I used my knife and cut right down the chest, his skin folded to the side and revealed his ribs. Blood poured from his chest forming a puddle, a round loop at the end fit snuggly around his rib, one left one and the other right one. With the push of a button both machines would pull the ribs one by one.
When he woke he struggled to move but cried out in pain, I shoved a sock in his mouth and taped it shut. When the ribs snapped I placed the wire on the next rib down. I began to randomly stab him and shoot nails at his body, one nail entered through his nose, poked out at the top and stuck into his eye. All ribs lay on the floor beside him, I began to peal the skin I pulled piece by piece then explored with his insides, pulling and tugging at different things.
I pulled him from his spot on the floor and headed for the kitchen. Everything was twice the size of a normal kitchen, the oven was huge, perfect.
I stuffed him in the oven, I couldn’t tell if he was alive or not but I did turn it on anyways. Being Irish I suppose he would burn easy enough, I tied the door shut then jammed the ribs in the corners so it wouldn’t open.
All was done I walked out the front door unnoticed. They didn’t even question how I was able to enter in the first place.
Isabella was in a mental hospital in Illinois. I didn’t mind the plane ride, its not often I get first class, I thanked Josh T for that.
The woman at the front desk refused to let me in, I told her I was her sister but she demanded to see ID. I can say that I do sometimes make mistakes, out of anger I slit the fat woman’s throat. Blood gushed from her neck, it almost blended in with her dark skin. I used the computer to find out which room Isabella was in. She was in C hall room 13.
The halls were white with fluorescent lights in the center of the ceiling. Her room was the one at the very end in the right side. The slot allowed me to see part of her room, but Isabella wasn’t in eye range.
I used the key I took from the front desk to unlock the door. All of the walls were padded, no bed just soft ground. I opened the door and looked around, she wasn’t there. A few steps in and the door shut behind me, I was about to turn around when Isabella jumped on my back, her teeth sank into my neck. I threw the lunatic to the ground and touched my neck. She stood up and laughed then shook her head and mumbled.
“I knew you were real, they said I was lying but the voices they warned me, the nurses are all messed up in the head,” she said rambling.
“Do you now who I am?” I asked, she talked like she knew I was coming. She looked around the room, circling and talking to herself.
“Of course I know who you are, you’re one of them, the demons that are in the walls,” she said quickly, then she began chewing on the padding.
I decided to play along, “your right I’ve come to get you Isabella.” I jumped to the right, she stood perfectly still. Then she squirmed in her straitjacket, after a moment Isabella fell to the floor thrashing and wiggling around.
I didn’t realize what she was doing until it was too late, the straitjacket slipped off. Isabella got up quickly and lunged at me, I dodged it but she was able to grab a fist full of my hair and pulled me to the ground.
Her hands wrapped around my neck as she bent down and bit my nose. I pushed her away jabbing and hitting her stomach. My gun was in the pocket of my coat and the knife was on the belt, she took the knife. At the same time I caught the blade with my had tearing open my palm.
We struggled for a moment, however when I pulled out my gun it was over, one shot to the shoulder and she was down. I put pressure on my wound and watched Isabella. She began to cut herself using the knife saying they were never going to get her.
I left, my business with her was not done, but my hand was bleeding badly. Besides she had the knife, so the cops would assume she murdered the black woman at the desk.
I walked a mile to the liquor store, I chose a car to hotwire and entered the store. I had money left over from my visit to Joshs’ . I bought a few things to fix my wound and hunger. The car was easy to start, I sat in it for a few moments eating the hot dog I bought.
Something in the rearview mirror moved, I turned around but nothing was there. I drove a few miles before I pulled over, a feeling of being watched came over me, but I soon got over it and started again. I turned in my seat to the back and Isabella sat there with the knife. She thrust it into my shoulder then pulled it out. I punched the gas and we burst forward she flew to the very back. But then came forward again and dug her fingers into my shoulder.
I stomped on the breaks and she went right through the windshield. A few miles away I drove my car over her. Then I stepped out and poured my alcohol on her, lit a cigarette I found in the car and set her on fire.
After letting her body burn for a while, I loaded her into the car still breathing. I planned to dispose of her in a ditch somewhere, but thought it would be better to get revenge from my wounds. I pulled over and bashed her head in with a rock. She screamed and cried, but I kept going. Then I removed each finger, sawing with my knife, piece by piece. Afterwards I dumped every limb I cut off in the town church.
I can remember most details from my kills, the thrill is what motivates me to write it. Now days I just pick and choose who is next, any random person maybe my next victim. None would ever be as fun as the murders of my supposed friends.
People seem to sicken me lately, I don’t know why, they just do. I, being human myself, wonder why one would sit and talk to another when it is obvious that they don’t like each other. My first thought would be to silently observe my threat, then think of cruel ways to punish them. However I’d probably end it with a simple death, torture takes time.
I still remember the first day I chose my victims, they were a group of teenagers in my physics class, I was one of their so called friends. There was Josh Backer, also known as JB apparently he was a lab genius. His nails irritated me, they were so long and…and… it doesn’t matter they just irritated me, I almost killed him on the spot. Really it wasn’t his nails or hair gel that angered me, something about the way he talked and sounded made me feel like I was going crazy. Our next victim is Isabella, she sat to the right of JB her, morbid little self, I laughed when I killed her, she didn’t even know it was coming and all she talks about is death. This is exciting I can’t wait to describe the actual murder, but please I shall first finish naming my corpses. Chris McGee is next, he sat beside me, oh how he liked to talk about how kind and gentle and blah blah blah, ha he cried like a little girl. Last but not least there was Josh 2; his last name slips my mind, really though it’s not important.
For months I watched them chitter0chatter across the table, forcing myself to participate in their pathetic attempt to socialize. With each conversation came new ideas on how to end their worthless lives.
Oh dear me, I must have forgotten I am Abby , the one who is telling this story, let me make myself clear I’m not always like this just on my bad days so please don’t judge me so quickly.
Of course I waited a few years before I completed me tasks, I needed to study their routines as much as possible and know what happens during the day and night. I don not consider this to be stalking, I think of it as a study of human life, or more like a scientist watching a lab rat. Anyhow, I memorized everything they did, even the things that were important still burn in my head, items and people of value. I did not plan to kill their family members, just see if they may nose their way into my business.
Josh Baker, JB lived in a small town in the state of Arizona. I remember the sun burning my skin, I cursed JB the whole time, how could anyone live here? The dry air burning pushing against my face, I licked my lips which burned and itched due to the wind. JB actually lived in a mobile home in the middle of no where. I could kill him however I wanted and no one would hear his painful cries, how brilliant.
The early morning was cool and the sun had not risen yet, my subject was still sleeping off a hangover. Each night JB left for work at eight in the evening, his shift started at five. Although in my mind this didn’t matter three or four hours late at an old worn out strip joint, in which no one ever attended. He came home sometimes around midnight, depending on what time he began drinking.
In the trailer a single bedroom and living room/kitchen lay buried underneath piles of trash and clothes. A shotgun was hidden by some news papers in a closet. Funny thing, even if he would’ve tried using it, the bullets were in between his mattresses next to the dirty magazines. Poor boy, I always knew he would end up some lonely loser; it only makes it easier to kill.
As I studied the rest of my surroundings I found that the nearest neighbors were three miles away, a group of white trash. By this time he had already left for work; I just needed to wit for him to come back home.
JB drove his rickety old truck up to the trailer, it wheezed and coughed then died. I thought the door to the 1946 Ford truck would fall off; it’s amazing what a person would drive just to stay cheap. He took a few minutes to push the rusted door closed, when he though he was finished he headed towards the trailer, I watched the door to the truck drop to the ground, how surprising.
JB was home early was home early, it was only around nine in the evening, he must have gotten fired. Staggering through the threshold of his door, I thought about rigging his shotgun so that anyone who opened the door would be blown away. Soon however I turned it down; I would need something more powerful or exciting. I crept up to the window and peered in, he sat on the couch, his yellow stained shirt uncovered his hairy belly in which he began scratching, how disgusting. Then he suddenly stood and went to the kitchen, as if he realized something.
“Oh I knew you had something to eat you old dog” he said out loud, I took a look around the kitchen; the fool was talking to himself. “Let’s go put this here can of beans on the pit” he said tossing the can in the air, and failing to catch it.
I remember seeing the pit, or fire pit, before, it was right in front of the door, just a yard or two away. He threw open the door so fast I barely had time to dodge it, I rolled on my stomach under the trailer and watched. JB put the whole can on the fire, without opening it first, I guess he didn’t know that with enough pressure it could explode. Fortunately it didn’t take long for him to open it and taste whether it was hot or cold.
He scoffed down the beans with a cough then a choke, maybe if I left him alone he’d kill himself. Enough of this, I’ll take him down right now, were my thoughts exactly and that’s what I did.
I crawled to the back of the trailer, dusted myself off and pulled out my gun. I feel that guns are impersonal; I’d like to use the knife but in order to slow the prey you have to stun him. I walked around the corner took aim and shot him in the right shoulder. He looked at me, at the bullet wound, then me again, then back at the wound. The look he gave me was priceless. He fell forward onto the ground, then flipped on his back and looked at me with horror in his eyes. Those were the first to come out, the eyes I mean. I used a fork he had set aside for the beans. First though I had to tie him up, he let me tie his hands and feet without a struggle, I thought that was a little odd.
I stabbed his eyes with the fork and scooped them out; then I made him eat them. With my knife I peeled off the skin on his head taking the hair off and revealing the skull. Next I ripped the nails from his fingers, cut off his nose , ears, toes, and fingers, making him eat each of them.
I went inside to find a necessary ingredient, alcohol. I poured it all over JB, drowning his wounds, specifically his scalp and eyes. He cried and screamed thrashing around and finally passed out. I took this time to cut out his tongue and waited for him to wake up.
“Okay JB right now I’m about to cut open your legs and see if I can find something interesting” I said calmly. I took the knife and slowly cut the skin down to his shin. I parted the flesh and started to saw the bones, when I was done, I tied one end of a rope around his neck and the other end to the bumper of his truck. I started it with trouble, but once it was going I was set, I pulled it into gear and began driving.
I looked in the rear-view mirror and found that the bumper had fallen off, irritated now I dragged JB to the front bumper and tied him up, he was still alive then.
I drove into the middle of nowhere, dropped the broken body off and let the wild dogs have him.
My little car waited for me on the outskirts of town I drove JB’s car further away from town, tore off my gloves and caught it on fire. I walked to my car and began driving to the home of my next victim, Chris McGee.
Originally Isabella was going to be next, but when I found out that she was in a mental house, I wanted to save her for last, after all she’s not going anywhere.
On my way back to Texas I thought about how I could kill him, but nothing came to me. From what research told me, Chris was still living with his mom, he was married to a woman and already had two kids. The three mistresses he has are all pregnant and oblivious of the other.
On my arrival I knocked on the door, apparently some of my research was wrong, his mother lived next door, I guess I was mistaken because she was over their house so frequent that she practically lived there. “Are you the mother of Chris McGee?” I asked the shriveled human, she pushed her thick glasses closer to her face.
“No, I’m his mother-in-law. Who are you may I ask?” She let me in and gestured for me to take a seat.
“My name is Abby, I’m an old friend of his” I answered, she was so nice and sweet, I just couldn’t murder her. We talked for about an hour, had a little tea and a couple of cookies. Mrs. Rice told me of Chris’ mischievous ways and how much her daughter was hurting, like I cared.
I waited for Chris after work; the daily routine consisted of, a visit with his little tramps then a few hours at a bar, then home to his wife. This time I accidentally rammed his car with mine, on a more deserted road.
“I’m sorry I didn’t see you” I explained, he tried repeatedly to turn on his car in which I rigged earlier to die. Somehow he managed to get it started, but now it was dead.
“Here, I’ll give you a ride to where you need to be” I said, hesitantly he got in. We drove silently, except for the directions to his house. I sped up and locked the doors, he looked at me then tried the door handle, useless. My gun was pointed at him from under coat, he saw it when I pulled it out.
“Wh-what do you want?” he stammered, keeping his eyes on the gun
Just keep quiet for now, I’ve got a few plans that we need to speak of”, Chris was so scared, I smiled the whole way.
Actually I had no idea where I was going, sort of just driving until I see something, in which I did. It was a lumber mill, lots of fun tools there.
At first Chris was a little rebellious he tried to run a few times, but to no use, my gun proved to be more help than I expected. I have never seen the inside of a lumber mill so I was surprised to see all the heavy equipment and sawing materials. Chris freaked out, I mean no man I ever killed had started screaming and crying before I started cutting.
He tried to fight me, but he wasn’t very good at aiming, the punch barely caught my chin. At that same time I brought my gun across his cheeks, he squealed like a little girl. He kind of sat stunned on the floor, I helped him up and put him on a belt. The belt led to a machine that shaves the bark off of the tree. Knowing that Chris would fight I searched for a nail gun, when I found one my excitement grew. I placed one nail in the center of the palm another in his wrists on the both hands. The nails were long in length and very rusted. Stapling a few more in the shoulders, thighs, and ankles, I proceeded in finding the switch to run on the machine.
It started with a loud clank and moving wheels, the whole factory came to life. Chris was slowly being eaten by the machine, I leaned over to watch the blades scrape off flesh from his body. Shreds of clothes flew every which way as did pieces of skin.
He screamed bloody murder, yet I couldn’t help but feeling pity for him, but that didn’t stop me, he moved into the next machine. This device contained small drills, which randomly drilled into the wood, or body in this case. The first hole was in the chest, I feared it would poke through his heart but it slightly moved to the side puncturing a lung.
When he was all done with that, I had to stop the belt for the next machine would have killed him for sure. I ripped his Body from the belt, some nails popped out while others didn’t. I dragged his body to a device that rolled logs onto the belt, thankfully a log was already loaded it just needed to be pushed into position. I slowly pushed the log onto his legs, I even thought I heard the crunch of his bones. I pushed it up about midsection then let it fall back. The noises he made at first sound nothing like a human, however his cries began to sound like that of a little girls.
Still hanging to life Chris pleaded with me to let him die, or rather to kill him.
“Please, please, please kill me…” he cried, squeezing his eyes shut. I smiled and pulled out my gun, pointed at him, then stopped. He had kids and a wife, which were reasons for him to live , ending it now would stop all his suffering. I put my gun away and looked down at him.
“no Chris I’m going to let you live, now you remember what this taught you about life,” he really did look pathetic.
After I left I found a new car and bounded towards my next friend, Josh T. Chris was later found in the mill still living and half crazed. I suppose he could tell them about me, but then I’ll be long gone, just two more visits and vacation starts.
Josh was in Los Vegas, up to no good I assume. He lived in an apartment, his room was on the very top floor, the penthouse. After a time of failure Josh made it lucky one night when he won the jackpot. Since then money has been pouring out of everywhere. But that’s not his job. Even though he is filthy rich he works as a sports caster on the side. The only flaw with his lifestyle is was the late night visits.
Quite often he would search the streets for people who could give him certain needs. I say people because women were not the only game he sported. Sometimes a male accompanied him to his home and would leave early the next morning. With all that I have seen so far, this one was the most disgusting.
The building he lived in was very fancy and hard to enter, the security was very strict. Although I did manage to just climb through a window to get in, I have to admit the front and back doors were impenetrable.
Josh had just gotten back from a “drive” and a little hanky-panky was going on in his room. In Josh’s case I brought my own equipment.
I had to be careful with this one, Josh was a big time gambler now, so I ‘m sure he has killed a few men before. When he was working one night I searched his home and found hidden guns in every corner.
I knocked on the door, a few minutes later he finally answered. He looked like a snobby rich man, wearing half of a tuxedo. Immediately he pulled me inside.
“What are you doing here? I told you never to come to me for business, I come to you.” he said angrily. I felt the blood drain from my face, the idiot thought I was a prostitute he had been with before. I felt insulted, I don’t look like a diseased sleeper. (forgive my foul language)
Anyhow he let me in, he didn’t want people to know about his appetite. He got me a drink, I managed to slip a little drug known as the date rape drug into his cup. Although I didn’t plan on performing a rape, I did want him to fall asleep. It only took a few minutes to work, then he was on the floor sleeping. His friend left before anything started, “it” was lucky for I would have treated it as it is, a nasty disease that needs to be destroyed.
Set up was easy, I put two machines on the left and right side of his body. I pulled his hands over his head and nailed each finger to the ground. His legs were tied together by barbwire, tightly wrapped around his ankles.
I used my knife and cut right down the chest, his skin folded to the side and revealed his ribs. Blood poured from his chest forming a puddle, a round loop at the end fit snuggly around his rib, one left one and the other right one. With the push of a button both machines would pull the ribs one by one.
When he woke he struggled to move but cried out in pain, I shoved a sock in his mouth and taped it shut. When the ribs snapped I placed the wire on the next rib down. I began to randomly stab him and shoot nails at his body, one nail entered through his nose, poked out at the top and stuck into his eye. All ribs lay on the floor beside him, I began to peal the skin I pulled piece by piece then explored with his insides, pulling and tugging at different things.
I pulled him from his spot on the floor and headed for the kitchen. Everything was twice the size of a normal kitchen, the oven was huge, perfect.
I stuffed him in the oven, I couldn’t tell if he was alive or not but I did turn it on anyways. Being Irish I suppose he would burn easy enough, I tied the door shut then jammed the ribs in the corners so it wouldn’t open.
All was done I walked out the front door unnoticed. They didn’t even question how I was able to enter in the first place.
Isabella was in a mental hospital in Illinois. I didn’t mind the plane ride, its not often I get first class, I thanked Josh T for that.
The woman at the front desk refused to let me in, I told her I was her sister but she demanded to see ID. I can say that I do sometimes make mistakes, out of anger I slit the fat woman’s throat. Blood gushed from her neck, it almost blended in with her dark skin. I used the computer to find out which room Isabella was in. She was in C hall room 13.
The halls were white with fluorescent lights in the center of the ceiling. Her room was the one at the very end in the right side. The slot allowed me to see part of her room, but Isabella wasn’t in eye range.
I used the key I took from the front desk to unlock the door. All of the walls were padded, no bed just soft ground. I opened the door and looked around, she wasn’t there. A few steps in and the door shut behind me, I was about to turn around when Isabella jumped on my back, her teeth sank into my neck. I threw the lunatic to the ground and touched my neck. She stood up and laughed then shook her head and mumbled.
“I knew you were real, they said I was lying but the voices they warned me, the nurses are all messed up in the head,” she said rambling.
“Do you now who I am?” I asked, she talked like she knew I was coming. She looked around the room, circling and talking to herself.
“Of course I know who you are, you’re one of them, the demons that are in the walls,” she said quickly, then she began chewing on the padding.
I decided to play along, “your right I’ve come to get you Isabella.” I jumped to the right, she stood perfectly still. Then she squirmed in her straitjacket, after a moment Isabella fell to the floor thrashing and wiggling around.
I didn’t realize what she was doing until it was too late, the straitjacket slipped off. Isabella got up quickly and lunged at me, I dodged it but she was able to grab a fist full of my hair and pulled me to the ground.
Her hands wrapped around my neck as she bent down and bit my nose. I pushed her away jabbing and hitting her stomach. My gun was in the pocket of my coat and the knife was on the belt, she took the knife. At the same time I caught the blade with my had tearing open my palm.
We struggled for a moment, however when I pulled out my gun it was over, one shot to the shoulder and she was down. I put pressure on my wound and watched Isabella. She began to cut herself using the knife saying they were never going to get her.
I left, my business with her was not done, but my hand was bleeding badly. Besides she had the knife, so the cops would assume she murdered the black woman at the desk.
I walked a mile to the liquor store, I chose a car to hotwire and entered the store. I had money left over from my visit to Joshs’ . I bought a few things to fix my wound and hunger. The car was easy to start, I sat in it for a few moments eating the hot dog I bought.
Something in the rearview mirror moved, I turned around but nothing was there. I drove a few miles before I pulled over, a feeling of being watched came over me, but I soon got over it and started again. I turned in my seat to the back and Isabella sat there with the knife. She thrust it into my shoulder then pulled it out. I punched the gas and we burst forward she flew to the very back. But then came forward again and dug her fingers into my shoulder.
I stomped on the breaks and she went right through the windshield. A few miles away I drove my car over her. Then I stepped out and poured my alcohol on her, lit a cigarette I found in the car and set her on fire.
After letting her body burn for a while, I loaded her into the car still breathing. I planned to dispose of her in a ditch somewhere, but thought it would be better to get revenge from my wounds. I pulled over and bashed her head in with a rock. She screamed and cried, but I kept going. Then I removed each finger, sawing with my knife, piece by piece. Afterwards I dumped every limb I cut off in the town church.
I can remember most details from my kills, the thrill is what motivates me to write it. Now days I just pick and choose who is next, any random person maybe my next victim. None would ever be as fun as the murders of my supposed friends.