Hi peeps! I can't believe I'm actually publishing this, but everyone who read it before thought it was good enough so I thought I'd give it a try. Any kinds of critisism is accepted I guess, but hopefully nothing harsh, as this is my first story I've written in a long time and the first story that is actually open for the world to see... Also I'm not really confident and I might go hide in a hole if things get out of hand. But still, enjoy!

'Hands of a Murderer' = speech

'Hands of a Murderer' = thought

This one had been easy. Too easy to lighten my boredom. Too easy to fill my thirst. It was an ordinary murderer of an ordinary teenager of an ordinary background. She didn't have anything special about her, not even a slight hilt on her IQ. She was stupid and careless and young. I think that is why I picked her in the first place. Her motivation was as simplistic, urged, human. She just wanted a good time, because she didn't have a boyfriend for almost a year. I wanted a good time too. Nothing special. Nothing special at all. It's what I was born to do, and these hands do no wrong and these eyes see no evil. I am not saying that what I do would seem right to you. You're not me. You don't understand. You listen to the government. Listen to your beloved politicians, with their bleached-on smiled and their lies. I have no place on this goddamned earth. You call this a life? You think Justice exists? You think God is looking over you? You think I'll spare you because you're screaming for mercy?

'Can't hear your scream over mine'

Who is your god now?! Who is your god now that I get to decide whether you live or die?! Who is your god?! She whimpers. I laugh, heartily, answered by its own echo. I fall silent. I feel alive. Thriving! I am feeling again! I cannot die! I can never die! And then why, why, why do I feel like I'm not happy?

'WHY?' slash, 'WHY?!'

I start sobbing uncontrollably. I place myself over my victim, oh poor girl you must be so scared! Slashing had resulted in thin cuts on her body. Her eyes were red from crying, blue from the bruising and beetle from the terror. I hug her, still crying. I smear my face onto her sweet smelling blood. I hug her tightly. How old is she? 15? 16? Quite young, I don't know. But her flesh was tender, overwhelmingly reminding me of a baby's. I touch her lips, her vampire lips, so dark red and luscious. Not a virgin. What a shame. Virgins react so innocently, so childishly, so artlessly, and so fun to watch them struggle and wriggle for their life before I inject them with sedation made by yours not truly.

'Maybe I should mark her'

Kyhahahaha. Well, why not? WHY not mark her?! It's fun knowing your victims are always going to be yours. They can't anything about it; they will be scarred before and after death. Even if they're dead they will have nightmares of me, and if they are going to be reborn they will fear me and remember me. And what if they live? IF, by some twisted fate they are left to stay here, then I'm sure they will look forward to their own suicide. I will seep and contaminate their dreams, I'll poison the little reason they have left, I'll be the shadow that follows them when they try to escape, I'll be every single infantile and selfish thought you will have. But I couldn't.

'I can't let him know I'm doing this'

It's not time yet. Glory will be mine, but for that, I must wait for the right moment. All good things come to those who wait. My plan is nowhere near completed yet. I can't grab L's attention now. She isn't worth to be my sacrifice to victory. I got to plan everything down to the last detail, down to the last step and last thought and last fingerprint I will make. I will win and I will make him loose his pride and honour. Will he think so much about himself then?

'This child is boring me'

THIS child. This terrible wanton is staining my hands. Defiling them with unworthy blood! I will show her, I will make her feel the prize for that!

'You know' I said conversationally, 'you really take care of your nails. They are so... pretty?' I jumped off the cheap motel bed we were on. She still had the force to turn her head to my direction. Her tied frame, which amusingly reminded me of a childhood rag toy, made a last effort to struggle free from the barbed wire I tied her with. Strings of lifeblood flowed anew down her limbs. At this she stopped. She was silent now. How boring. It distresses me, really. I was eager to know how it feels like to by dethroned from your destiny, what your last wishes were, or what you honestly think about me. Was my plan to abduct you strategic enough? Were there any suspicions in your mind? Rate my torturing skills from one to ten. The reality is that all of my trials so far had a one way conversation.

'Technically speaking' I continue, 'we, as the dominant primates on Earth, don't need fingernails' I bend down to a plastic bag I dumped under the bed. I take it from there, delicately, so that it doesn't rip to the rusty bed-frame, and doesn't leave any forensic evidence for the police to find. Inside it, I find some clothes, an empty syringe and a straight jaw pincer. The basics, but I couldn't really afford to be carrying big torturing instruments without raising suspicion. I only bought what I thought were the indispensables, the simplest tools to make someone suffer. I took out the pincer, carefully, and stood back up to my 'date', smiling.

'What most scientists agree on is that these are the vestige of our untamed ancestors' I said, lightly brushing off my clothes 'back in the days where we used to rip meat from our hunt and fight for our bare survival. What I find most fascinating is that we don't do that no more. Laws control us' I played with the pincer. The girl, whose name I still couldn't remember without looking above her head, changed from her uncaring dazed look to a more alarmed one. She tried to say something with her gagged mouth, while I was snapping the tool's claws into empty air at my own rhythm.

'But now we don't really need them anymore, do we?' I leaned nearer to her. Her shaky breath was tingling on my skin. It pleasured me, to feel that fear, that terror. I smiled softly. Such a fake smile would calm people. I held her hand, marked and bleeding by her own fingernails, sticky because of her sweat. I lightly kissed it, slightly licking the clotted blood that caked the pale hands.

'Sorry' I whispered. I gingerly handled her left hand, deciding that I should go from her little finger to her thumb. I put her delicate manicured nail between the pincer's talons. Without counting down or preparing her, I swung my arm backwards, with great force, tearing her flesh and muscles apart. Her nerves were racking and screaming, her legs thrashing uselessly, her face red and her wet eyes full of despair and ache. She groaned in pain a few times, but I didn't wait, as I lunged for her ring finger. I figured this one has been harder to rip, so I forcefully pulled. The shredding of veins and tissue was heard prominently this time. The girl started sobbing, again. The next eight followed.

'oh deary me' I said, dropping the instrument, looking at the warm liquid gushing from the tips of her fingers, and dropping on the bed 'we only started to have fun, and you are already to your limit. We have come so far and I would really like to continue, but,' I looked at the clock which hung on the wall 'I have class to attend to in seven hours twenty-three minutes and some seconds'

Look at him! We have given birth to a monster!

'But because I am definitely not a monster, I will give you a swift exit too this world' I clapped my hands solemnly mocking her, picking the plastic bag up again and taking out the syringe, 'and I will talk your death to you'

She slowly lifted her head up, groaned at the movement, and gave up. 'Your cause of death will be gas embolism. Remember that well. This syringe is empty. Straight to the point, I will inject air into your veins, and when it reaches the lungs and capillaries, it will get stuck'

'Capillaries are only a cell thick. Only one cell! They can only take small particles of gas little at a time; but never a big bubble. When it stops, your body automatically thinks "oh, there isn't enough respiration happening!"' I said in a falsetto voice 'so it quickens your respiration rate. But that's just useless; because after a few minutes' I uncapped the sterile needle 'you die'

I approached her, pumping 20 cc of air into the syringe. 'I'm finding this one of my favourite ways of killing. It just needs a needle and some air. No poison, no drug, nothing. The police probably will never know you died this way. It's very hard to trace' I took her thigh and carefully punctured where the main vein was. The wounded girl moaned and twitched, but nothing more.

'That's one dose done' I did the same action again 'two' and again 'three' I stopped seeing that the numbers above her head were scaling to zero quickly. I sighed. No more fun for me now. I sighed, and got on wiping every surface I've touched. I then took the fresh clothes out of my bag and began undressing and putting the clean ones on, wiping the blood I had on my hands and face with the dirty ones.

I stood up and opened the door 'You'll die in about six minutes' I said, not looking at her. I closed the door.

I wasn't satisfied on how the night went on. What a waste of time, killing her.

'I'm bored already'

I jumped from the balcony, and landed on my fours. This night was nothing special. Nothing special at all.

A/N: this is what got me an award in school. I'm thinking about making a series out of this. What do you think? R&R please!

And I almost forgot, PLEASE DON'T BE HARSH. You might have noticed that english isn't my first (or my second T_T) language... so yeah P: