I just had to put this up. This is partially inspired by Dexter but is not a crossover. I'm actually really happy with how this chapter turned out.
I hope you enjoy and please review
I will warn you though that this is going to get a bit dark and this chapter is a bit creepy (but that's why I love it!) and swearing throughout.
I do not own criminal minds
All mistakes are my own
Prolouge
It's a Friday night and most people would be out partying away the petty stresses of their week away. I on the other hand have better things to do. I'm watching this man to see his next move, his next move is my opening. Different people handle their stress in different ways, for example a woman I work with chooses to screw any man nearby to relieve her stress. The poor girl doesn't understand that her stress will only lead to self loathing depression.
My innocent appearance has served me well over the years. It's made my rather messy job easier. I slouch down in my seat so I'm not seen. I see him exit his house with bloody fists and an equally disturbing grin on his face. No doubt he has beaten his wife.
I despise men like that. Wasteful fucking excuses for human beings.
I know where he is going and what he will do. He'll hit on some poor waitress and then try have his way with her. I know it's happened twice, he's never been charged with anything.
Everyone is too afraid of this man, a man who should himself be afraid tonight. I stay inside my car till I see him exit. I'm dressed in my best costume tonight. I'm dressed like a helpless woman in a cold dark night. The opposite to my real skin, opposite in every single way. I've purposely disconnected vital parts in my car. An easy fix for a person with car knowledge like me. I walk over in my white shirt and skirt knowing he was as good as mine.
"Excuse me" I say sweetfully. He looks up as if he is about to shout at me but stops when he sees my face or better yet my chest.
"How can I help you tonight?" he slurs, he reeks off alcohol and sweat, it takes all of my power not to twinge my nose in disgust.
"I've got a problem with my car. Could you give me a ride a few miles down the road?" I say as I point to my car.
"Sure thing. Jump in the sweet thing" he laughs before holding the door open. I notice in the mirror that he's looking at my ass as I enter the car.
He gets in the car and turns on the ignition and starts to drive south. He's silent for a few minutes before he places his hand on my thigh.
"Maybe you could thank me with a little treat" he smiles before making his hand go further down my thigh. I grab it and smile at him with not only my lips but also my brown eyes. I lean closer to him.
"Pull over and I'll give you a ride for giving me a ride" I whisper seductively in his ear. He instantly pulls into a isolated area. He had given me the perfect surrounding to exact my plan.
"You were going to give me a ride so give me on" he orders. This was going to be the highlight of my week. He leans his seat back as I climb on his lap, I tell him to close his eyes. He obliges me as he imagines what is going to happen next.
I curl my hand around the syringe on my belt. I plunge the syringe into his neck and see his eyes widen with surprise before he completely stills. I loved strong muscle relaxants, they allowed for some private time. I stayed on his lap so I could look him directly in the eyes.
"Don't worry you won't feel like this for long. Did you enjoy my show Mr Howard? You are such a gullible piece of shit. I know what kind of sick bastard you are. You beat and force yourself on women to make yourself feel like a man. With the size of your tool I would say that you were barely a man at all. I doubt your wife will cry when she hears that you are dead, she'll smile. Goodnight Mr Howard. Enjoy hell."
He stays there with fear on his face as I pull out a blade from my boot. I thrust the knife into his heart. The lights go out on his eyes as blood begins to soak his white shirt. I sigh and fall back into the passenger car seat.
Many people release stress in different ways. Some party, some sit at home with a good book and a glass of red wine. I release stress with a kill. Only if they truly deserve it though. Instead of drinking red wine I happily enjoy looking at the red blood glistening on my knife.
Three weeks ago I recieved a whole new dilemma in my life. My biological father found me as did my brother. He's an FBI agent with profiling skills and a genius intellect. Both useful skills when studying killers. We get on well but it's difficult keeping up the facade of being a good girl. One little mistake and I'm fucked.
My name is Ella Reid and I'm a serial killer. My brother is Spencer Reid and an FBI agent.
What a fucking catastrophe.
So what do you think?
