Everyone has a story. And sometimes the people who do the most horrific things have the most terrible stories to tell.

I thought it would be interesting to take a look at the most notorious 'bad guys' and attempt to tell their stories- how they ended up in Las Vegas.

I'm kicking off with Ronald Basderic since he's someone fresh in my mind, I've done a lot of research about the development of stalking behaviours and obsessive compulsive disorder in order to write this so hopefully it'll be slightly insightful.

I hope you all enjoy reading it or at least find it interesting- please leave a review let me know what you think or if there are any particular people you'll like me to write a character study of.

With deadlines and dissertation work and the amount of time it takes to research I'm not sure how

Again- please review!

Fractured

(1)

Ronald Basderic

The rain fell softly across the road, the tarmac glistening in the dim lightening of the night as the sound of his footsteps echoed in the air like sirens. He'd never liked the rain. The way it settled on his clothes, the smell of dusty gravel clinging to his pores even when he was somewhere dry. It had always made him uncomfortable.

It reminded him of that day. If he focused hard enough he could still smell the dirt that had been displaced from the grave under his breath. He could still see the pit into which his mother's casket had been lowered. Loved ones that he barely recognised clutching hold of his hand as he stood on the edge. At the age of seven that pit had seemed to go on forever.

There had been nights where he had woken shaking from the nightmares of falling into the darkness without there being an ending. Just...going...on and on into the abyss watching life pass by without being able to do anything to stop it.

Shivers flooded his body as he found himself looking into the darkened pool of a puddle over taking the pavement the memory of the mahogany in the darkness of the ditch at the forefront of his mind. With a laboured breath he studied the cracks in the pavement closing his eyes as he stepped over one side his feet unevenly hitting the ground the thought making his body shudder.

He would have to carefully count the steps coming up- the numbers needed to be even when he reached her house.

It was a Tuesday, she would getting home late from work, he had plenty of time- he knew that but still for some reason he couldn't help but speed up as he made it on to her road. The clearly labelled street sign sending electric shocks through his body as he carefully placed each step to his destination reaching the street lamp from where he watched her.

All of the lights in her house were off but over the past few weeks he had learnt that it didn't necessarily mean that she wasn't there. He'd learnt many things in the time he'd been watching. The way she channel flicked during the adverts, the way she would pace while she was on the phone, and the way she would nervously look out the window for him.

But there were no shadows moving inside the darkness; all he could do was, wait.

He took a deep breath of night air, pressing his eyes closed savouring the calm that surrounded him in that moment. There was the steady flow of traffic tinkering somewhere in the distance, the clouds rolling by without a sound with nothing but darkness and anticipation embracing him.

Basderic found himself thinking of the first time he had waited for someone like this but that had all been so different. She hadn't known he'd been watching her. She had always looked upon him with affection eyes and in the end she shaped him without realising.

Georgia Brooks. She'd lived next door to him a long time ago; a shapely woman, with a beautiful smile and sweet Southern drawl. He could recall seeing her over the garden fence as she worked on the vegetables or flowers that she had decided to grow that season.

She always called him Ronnie. The only other person that had called him Ronnie had been his mother. Sometimes Georgia would see him and invite him in for biscuits and hot chocolate. She would pull herself up dusting down her dress with a smile. The dirt charring her legs made his skin crawl as he attempted to retain a laid back composure.

He had found himself in awe of her and all he wanted was for her to like him. She would move around the kitchen as gracefully as his mother had done. She was kind to him, unlike everyone else, who simply just pitied him.

"Call me Georgia" She had insisted when he'd thank her on the way out, swooping down to press a kiss on his cheek, her inky black hair always smelt of exotic fruit. And as Ronald began to pace, his eyes focused on his feet he could almost recall the velvety notes of her voice close to his ear as the sweetness of her perfume intoxicated him.

She leant him her books, these books had changed him, he'd found himself being pulled into the world of literature. And when at University unlike so many other students he enjoyed the lessons and the learning. Ronald couldn't help but smile knowing that Georgia was the reason that he was now doing his PhD in English Literature.

And she had let him watching television with her on the days the weather was bad outside. It was almost as if she had forgotten he was a nine year old boy. Looking back now he could see that it was a cry of loneliness. She was in a town away from home, with a husband too busy to pay her attention and no children of her own.

It had never bothered him- he had always enjoyed her company. It was far better than being trapped in a house with his father's depression. Whiskey had been his only solace after his wife's death, everything else had fallen by the wayside. It was as if they were living with a ghost. He had distanced himself from his son noting that he reminded him of his wife. He had the same clear blue eyes that seem to always ask for answers.

So instead Ronald sought the affection that he so clearly craved from Georgia.

It had simply started by spending days playing in the garden hoping that she would be there to offer him some company. He could barely remember how it had escalated or gotten as far as it had done.

He would hover by the house watching her through the windows, the way she would sing along to the radio as she cooked dinner or the way she rested her feet against the coffee table stretching out while she watched television.

More than a few times he had seen her cry. He would have seen her sitting at the kitchen counter with a bottle of wine that would slowly disappear and a handgun resting by her side. He'd asked her if she was happy. And all she had done was look at him and smile, but not her bright 'everything's wonderful' smile. It was a sad smile as she acknowledged his question.

"No one's really happy Ronnie..." She's said softly in the accent that had captivated him, touching his cheek. "Not really"

"I am" He'd replied, looking into her bright brown eyes. "I'm happy when I'm with you"

Georgia had just looked at him wondering what he could know, a boy of ten, about happiness. She'd just kissed him on the forehead and passed him another freshly baked scone.

But the day of his accident had changed everything; he'd climbed the tree on the opposite side of the street hoping for an adventure. The bark digging into his palms as he carefully placed his feet climbing higher and higher until he thought he was going to reach the place everyone told him his mother had gone to. But he had to stop settling down on a branch breathing heavily.

Through the leaves he'd seen her; she was sprawled out on the bed, her husband's body over hers as she screamed out in what he assumed was pain as she was being pressed into the mattress beneath her. He found himself frozen to the spot, not knowing what to do as all he could do was watch.

He felt a burning sensation settling in his stomach, something so unfamiliar to him and yet something that would become an almost constant companion in his life. Jealousy made his eyes fix on the strange dance she was performing with this man and anger began to rush through his system. Georgia shouldn't be with someone else; she shouldn't be wrapping her arms around him or pressing her lips on his. Ronald felt the possessive feeling grip his soul as his grip on the branch of the tree tightened until his knuckles grew white and the bark bit into his palm.

Looking back on it now Ronald couldn't remember how he had miss placed his foot, how he'd fallen but the sight of the world as he hurled towards it refused to disappear every time he looked down at the ground. The pain had been so intense that there was nothing but blinding lights.

His father couldn't cope. And now everyone knew. The sight of the poor boy in the wheel chair, struggling with the crutches, having to stay inside convinced them that he was not fit to be a father.

And so he was taken away- away from his home, from Georgia- he was sent to live with his grandparents, then uncles and aunts.

His heart was in his throat as he was dragged back to reality by the sound of a car stopping just a stone throws away. The engine being killed as the locks clicked, two people appearing in the darkness. He could feel his chest tighten as each breath became laboured his hands curled into fists as he came into view.

This other man didn't love her as much as he did. Just like Georgia's husband. He never really loved her. He'd been giving it to someone else. He left her and in the end what was Georgia left with but a broken heart?

Ronald had gone back when he had been old enough to take the bus across the country by himself. She lived in the same house, she still liked to garden. The first time he had seen her she was standing watching the garden a cigarette at her lips. Her bright eyes and warm smile barely present but; still she called him Ronnie and she invited him in for hot chocolate and biscuits.

As he watched the young woman before him he knew she would be left with a broken heart- just like Georgia- and a wave of emotion of wanting to protect washed over him.

They all came easy after that. They would smile him, they would talk to him, and they would all remind him of her, of Georgia.

With his thoughts swimming around his mind like impulses he took the first step onto the road barely looking around for cars his eyes focused on her. Fear flashed in her eyes as she saw him approaching her.

"Get away from here now" He growled turning to face Ronald as he stood awkwardly in the middle of the road. But all he could do was smile. From where he was standing he could smell her perfume, and if focused enough he could ignore than man shouting at him.

Before he had a chance to gather his bearing a fist had collided with the side of his face, his head spinning as he attempted to keep his eyes focused. The world became a blur around him and like he had done so many years ago his gaze found the gravel as he fell against it. Another sharp blow knocked the air out of his lungs as he struggled to breathe.

As Ronald's eyes focused on the sky his fingers closed around the gun at his side, and as another blow hit him he pointed the weapon towards his assailant squeezing the trigger before he had a chance to stop himself. The gun shot rang throughout the silence and it was as if the world had stopped.

As everything passed in a haze the dirt and rainwater from the ground seemed to be burning his skin as he found himself feeling lost. He needed to leave.

He needed to escape to start over.