When people look at me they see a blond cheerful FBI agent. If they knew what I was really like they wouldn't be so fast to come near me. Nobody ever suspects what I am. After my first victim I thought people would be able to tell. I felt like I had the word MURDERER tattooed on my forehead. That whole day I felt like I was sitting on a tack. It was worth it.
I always felt different from other people; I never really connected with others. Oh sure I would pretend to, but I could have abandoned everyone I knew and not have felt a thing. At least that was how it was until my son was born. The moment I saw his little pink face I knew I would do anything for him; including murder. The first case I had involving children after I got off of maternity leave nearly killed me. Every time I looked at the crime scene photos all I could see was my sweet Henry lying there dead. Each time it would be different, first bullet wounds, and then stab marks, and so on and so on.
Even after we caught the murderer I felt this irresistible urge, I wanted him to suffer. He was disgusting. That's when it started. I knew I would go crazy if I didn't do something, I wanted to make sure that he and anyone like him disappeared. So I planned. On my next weekend off I looked up the Sex Offender Registry, it had everything I needed. I almost laughed out loud, it was perfect. Nathan Miller Age: 34 charged with the molestation of his student Hannah, age 8. It was easy to find out his address and the location of his work.
A week later after some serious shopping and planning I finally decided I was ready to kill him. It was easy, almost too easy. As he was walking home from work he cut through an alley as a short cut, it was there I made my move. Everything seemed to slow down as I swung my brand new baseball bat through the air towards his head. Then everything suddenly went back to normal speed. I could almost swear I heard a splintering noise when the bat touched his head.
Disposing of him wasn't as easy. He was dead so it wasn't like he could fight back, but he weighed more than I thought he would. After the tensest half an hour of my life I managed to get him into the rental car, paid for with cash to a guy who likes to mind his own business. During my years in the BAU I learnt my lessons well. I drove all the way to the Stafford Airport. I had planned earlier on dumping him in an unused field by the airport. He should still be there. As far as I know no one has ever found his body.
From then on I just got better and better. Now when I feel that resistance on the baseball bat I only feel the adrenaline with no panic mixed in. Yesterday I killed my 7th pedophile. Maybe it is a good thing, being blond and pretty. You can get anyway with anything, including murder.