I recently entered a writing competition and won. This was the story I entered and it is now published in a book called Xtreme.
Through the Eyes of a Killer
You breathe heavily as you stare down at the red-headed woman lying at your feet. Her chest rising and sinking each time she draws breath. Her hand only has four fingers; it is missing the little one. You clutch the knife in your left hand and begin to grin. You pull her up by her hair and slit her throat with the cold shimmering blade. Blood trickles down from the wound and starts to drip to the ground. You then grab her by her neck and smash her head off the cold unforgiving stone floor. Yet again more blood seeps from the injury and her body begins to go stiff. You go down to her feet and hold her ankles, you drag her through to the balcony of your flat, pick her up and throw her down into the icy black river. The body plunges into the freezing water breaking the thin layer of ice that had formed on top and starts to drift downstream. You watch as your victim is dragged away from you. You think that you are in the clear.
And you are. Your phone rings.
“Hello. No, she’s not here at the moment. Can I take a message? OK then, I’ll tell her you called”
You hang up and walk over to the balcony and look back down to the frozen waters and say “But she won’t be able to call you back.” And a sinister smirk spreads across your face.
Later that week, you are pacing back and for waiting for the clock to strike five. When it does you sit down and turn the TV on. The News Presenter begins to talk. “Well, our top story today, a body has been found just south of Newcastle. The female is estimated to have been killed earlier on this week. If you have any information please call the police phone-line. The number is at the bottom of the screen. We will bring you more on this story when we have it.”
You turn it off and yet again you smile an evil smile. You love the power of being the only one who knows what happened. You like being in control of everyone. You liked the power over that woman. You want to feel it once again. You will feel it once again.
It is eight o’clock now and you are waiting by the bus stop on Bourne Street. A young blonde, about 17 years old is walking towards you. You stealthily conceal yourself from her view. She sits down and begins to bite her fingernails. It is cold and you can see her shivering. Her tanned skin looks very pale in the winter night. She bites her thumb; her index finger; her middle finger and then her ring finger then her little finger. Then she puts the other hand to her mouth. She bites her thumb; her index finger; her middle finger; her ring finger and then her little finger. You silently move closer in the shadows. But suddenly you step on a twig, which cracks under the pressure of your foot. She looks round; her hair swaying from side to side as she looks in your direction. She then turns back to how she was. Your cover wasn’t blown. A couple of cars drive past and you seize the moment. You grab her, placing a knife to her throat and your hand over her mouth. She tries to scream but you begin to talk to her. “It is alright, you will soon be freed from this terrible reality.”
You knock her out with the handle of the knife. Her limp body falls to the floor in a motionless heap. You pick her up and take her to your car, drive her to your flat and take her inside.
She looks horrified but you feel no remorse, only power. And hunger, you want more power. The more you get, the more you want. Your thirst for power is like an addict’s need for drugs. Suddenly she stands up and runs at you. You panic and thrust the knife into her thigh. Blood pours from the gash and she screams. “I thought I told you not to resist. I shall soon free you from this dreadful world.”
She doesn’t seem scared. She is laughing at you. She doesn’t care; she is taking your power. This isn’t how it is meant to happen. She is meant to be frightened but she isn’t. She laughs as you glare at her. She doesn’t cower like all the other girls did. She cackled in the eyes of death. You feel your power fading; you’re not strong any more. You have no power over her; it is now the other way round. You have had enough.
You run at her and knock her down. She flies into a small cabinet; one of the draws falls out; in it there is a gun and three bullets. She grabs it; a chill runs down your spine; you remember loading that gun just yesterday. She places it into her left hand and pulls the trigger back. It doesn’t fire; the safety catch is still on. A veil of relief surrounds your body; you feel safe once again.
She takes the safety catch off. You know what you have to do but you just can’t. You focus yourself and speed towards the balcony. The door is still open from when you had a cigarette earlier on. You jump over the fencing. ‘BANG’ The speeding pellet of hot lead zooms into your head causing a blood-curdling crunch. It opens a gaping hole in your skull. You plummet to the ice-cold river. You have met your fate and have paid for your sins.
Who said crime pays?
