The perfect killer

He walks slowly across the dirtied floor; his victim lifeless, glazed eye’s staring out into the abyss. The killer, a master, his movements sure and even; striking the match with elegance he burns the house. As it glows in the ever growing distance, he laughs wildly at the thought of an investigation. He was invisible, no one knew he existed. He, the perfect killer, considering this is a time dependent on technology.

He is now looking for the next, the next love, the next death. Wandering in the crowds, violently being pushed around, walked over. How it glorifies him. He finds her, the one who is to become his next. She’s average, unnoticeable at best, normal height 5’4” or 5’3”, brown hair, brown eyes ordinary, slim. Nothing you would take another look at. She walked slowly, away from him; he hurried to catch up with her. He followed her, at one point she even made as if to look back.

But alas she thought nothing of him, he was merely another person in the sea of every day people she ignored, and they ignored back. She walked up the stairs to her 5th floor apartment not noticing him slicing his way through the shadowy corners. He crept up behind her just for a moment his breath hot on her neck. She turned around and saw only the darkness.

As she made to close the door with her foot he slide his way past her into the kitchen. A sleek movement causing a wave of air to hit her, and yet another deed unnoticed by her. She walked into the kitchen, not noticing him standing their lost in the mail she’s now carrying. He slowly curves out of her way. The knife he took from the cutting block now in his hands, he traces her outline with it in the air. He follows her slowly bringing his arms around her holding her close, a sweet embrace. As he slides the knife across he neck and shoulder down to her very finger tips; he pricks the tip of her finger slightly. He bringing her finger to his mouth she enjoys the salty, warmness of her blood.

She begins to struggle violently; he takes his belt and wraps her hands behind her back to prevent further movement. He drags her gently to a chair, staring at her taking in her eye’s his victim, his love. He traces the curves of her face with the knife suddenly pushing down, making a thin line of blood appear. She squirms, and goes to scream, his hand preventing it. He takes a cloth from his pocket slowly wrapping her eyes, impaired of vision. Yet another scarf he pulls from his pocket gagging her, no screams escape, no one will know.

He pulls her closely thinking of the ways to do this. Thinking diligently, wondering where the most pain could come from. He takes the belt off of her hands, and whispers in her ear, “strip”. She complies with shaky hands, trembling she pulls off her pants, shirt and under clothing. He leans close his hot breath on her neck once again, “Sit” he commands. So cultured the voice so reassuring, he talks in a comforting tone “Tonight you will die… Yes I’m afraid no one ever lives… Comply and it shall go swiftly.”
She groans a trickle of blood appears from under the gag. She had been biting her lip so hard it now split…

He looked at her, taking his knife he spread her legs, slowly and effortlessly he did this. Then taking his knife he inserted it inside her, she moaned painfully, in a quick movement he slices her layers. She screams through the gag, muffled. He grins in the pleasure of her pain. She hears his cruel laugh, wondering, praying the god she had forgotten till now.

He takes the knife, the tip touching her stomach, breast, neck, finally the jawbone, he slides the knife quickly, and roughly along it. She jerks back, his hand cradling her head pulling her closer; quickly he bites down on the sensitive skin on her neck. She screams yet again. He says slowly, carefully as if thinking each word over in his head, “Continue and it shall go further”. Clutching herself, she moans as if in agreement. He slides the knife across her stomach in an X pattern, watching the blood drip slowly across her lower stomach and hips.

She doesn’t make a sound, shaking and redoubled in pain yet silent. She waits, praying for a quick death. He begins to slide the knife through her legs again, she sits rigid with fear. He calmly says “All will be forgiven” as if he was a god. She slowly looses all touch with reality; this is a dream to her. He enjoys her distance and closeness. He decides to finish it, there is no more pain, and there is no more pleasure. He brings the knife to her shoulder blade, finally thrusting the knife down, straight into her heart. She quivers, then falling to the floor. He continues with the same routine as of the last killing. Slowly spreading her body into a pose, disgustingly portraying everything she has, dousing the apartment with gasoline he lights a match as elegantly as before. The flames reach their way to her body, licking her flesh, tearing her apart. He drives away in the overly expensive car, with his designer sunglasses, leather seats and perfect hair… The Perfect Killer.