Fucking shit. That was the closest I’ve ever come to getting caught, and my problems still aren’t over.

Rick’s daughter is slumped down in the hallway, unconscious. I know I have at least four hours before she wakes up, more if I dose her again, though I don’t want to. Another dose would be dangerous. I don’t want to risk stopping her heart. I don’t want to risk killing the girl.

Which is a little ironic. I’m a serial killer, after all. But I don’t hurt innocents. I don’t hurt people that don’t deserve it. That’s part of my rules, and part of what has kept me flying under the radar for so long. The cops don’t really give a fuck if a scumbag disappears from the hood. It happens all the fucking time. Sometimes junkies skip town, or they get killed by the mob, or they just overdose and rot away in some abandoned house, or any number of things. If I’m careful and smart, most of the time the cops barely investigate.

This is fucked up, though. Normally I’d take my time and dismantle Rick’s body to make disposal easier, but I don’t have time. Instead, I wrap his body in plastic and then again in black trash bags. My van is parked in the alley behind the house and I should be able to get him through the back yard and into the van without arousing any suspicions.

The girl is harder, though. I can’t just wrap her up, she might suffocate. I’ll have to risk carrying her.

Once I’m finished with Rick, I drag him down the steps. I’m not careful with him, since he doesn’t care anymore, and his body bumps down the stairs. Once at the bottom, I drag him through the house and out the back door.

Once I’m in the yard, I get on one knee and slowly pull him up onto my shoulders. I stand and carry him, all his dead fucking weight directly on my body. I stagger but manage to get through the back gate. I pull open my van and toss him in there, shutting the door quietly again.

I lean against the door, breathing heavily. Nobody is around.

The girl is easier than I thought. I just pretend that she’s drunk, and instead of carrying her over my shoulders, I throw one arm over my neck and hold her up that way. I half carry, half drag her through the house and through the yard before putting her into the back with her father. I prop her up and make sure she won’t roll around as I drive.

Once that’s done, I head into the bathroom for a final cleaning. I have to wipe every surface with bleach and make sure nothing is left behind. It’s painstaking, but it’s very, very important.

The sun is going to rise soon and three hours have passed when I finally finish. I get back into my van, placing my pack onto the passenger seat, and head out.

As I drive, anger at myself rages through me. I’ve never made a mistake like that in all my years of hunting. I plan meticulously and research every last detail. I make sure my victims are guilty of their crimes by using a huge networks of informants all through the city, mostly homeless men and women that need an extra buck. I stalk them and witness their actions for myself if at all possible.

I’m careful. I’m beyond careful. I’m flawless.

Not this time. I don’t know how I missed her. In all of my time watching Rick, I never once saw his daughter. I only was able to get into his house twice, but I still never ran across her when scouting the place out.

I got sloppy. I don’t know how, but I did. It had been too long since my last kill and my screaming need was fucking with me, pushing me to go forward. It must have pushed me too hard and made me careless where I should have been paying attention.

Now I was paying the price.

I drove for an hour, heading out of the city. I live in a custom-built cabin on the outskirts of town, really as far out into the country as possible without getting too far from the city. I have two acres to myself, which means plenty of privacy, and I live alone.

I have to live alone. Nobody would want to live with a serial killer.

I pull into my driveway, a long dirt road with multiple “Private Property: Trespassers Will Be Shot” signs. I curl around the forest that surrounds my property until I finally spot my home.

It’s three stories tall with a large basement and sub-basement complex beneath it. Everything is state of the art and fully customized. I had it built ten years ago with the money I won from the lawsuit against the family of the man that murdered my parents. I still live off that money, or at least off the investments I made with that money. I don’t have to work a day in my life if I don’t want to, but sometimes I wish I did have to work if it meant having my parents back.

I pull the van out front of my house and kill the engine. I climb out and walk around back, puling the doors open.

The girl is slumped right where I left her. Rick, however, was sliding around on the whole way back.

He doesn’t mind, though. He’s dead.

I reach in and grab Rick’s feet. I pull him out, letting his body thump onto the ground. I spend the next ten minutes dragging him around back toward the incinerator. I’ll have to fire that up later and toss him inside, but for now I need to get the girl into my house.

I walk back around and gently lift her from the van. She’s so small and light, surprisingly so, especially for a woman with such beautiful curves. She’s more attractive every time I see her, and I can’t help but feel my cock stir in my pants.

Which is fucked up, considering she’s unconscious and I just killed her dad.

I carry her to the front door. I stop and place my thumb against a fingerprint scanner which unlocks the front door and activates the house. I hear the hum of the air conditioning click on and the lights slowly illuminate the rooms ahead of me.

I stand in the foyer, wondering where the fuck to keep this girl.

With a sigh, I realize exactly where I have to put her. I don’t like it, but I know I have no other choice. I wish I could do better, but it’s the safest place in the house. I have no idea what I’m going to do with her, but at least I won’t have to worry about her escaping.

I carry her to the elevator that runs down the center of the house. I get inside and hit B2 for the sub-basement. The elevator slides down into the dark basement.

The doors open. I step out into the room. The lights automatically click on.

I look around at what I like to call my Killing Room, and begin to plan how I’m going to keep her.