Ok, first of all, I am sooooo sorry this one took so long, but I swear it's not my fault. IT'S FREAKIN' QUARTER QUEEN'S!

I seriously hate this character, so I based her off a person I seriously hate. =3 xD

Quarter Queen. I do believe that, although killing her this girl was the perfect way to baffle the police, it was the worst murder I had partook in. This deduction was not from the obscure lie that it gave me away as the murderer or because the way I killed her was inadequate or uninteresting. No, these were not the reasons. In truth, I'm not entirely sure why I hate this murder. It's possible I feel guilty for killing her.

Doubtful but possible.

Maybe I simply didn't like the child. She wasrude, crude, and bossy. A regular rich-bitch wannabe. She talked down to many, her 'friends' included, but when confronted by her own inabilities, she would run with her tail between her legs. She was even horrid to her mother, the only person who was kind enough to give her a home. Naturally, this knowledge was brought to me by the increasing way I obsessed, bringing me to, more or less, stalk my victim so I would know exactly where, when, how, and what to do. She truly reminds me of Naomi Misora. No. That isn't true. Quarter Queen looked like a kind, sweet angel next to Naomi Misora. I'm getting ahead of myself. To truly understand the reasoning for this murder I will have to backtrack to before the murder then jump to the murder.

I apologize in advance.

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May 27, 2002.

Thirteen days before this I had begun 'stalking' Believe Bridesmaid. I had gathered all that I needed from from him and decided to move on to Quarter Queen. I had woken up early on this day, ready to finally end the agonizingly long, boring daily routine of the freelance writer to the lifestyle of the economically in debt thirteen year old girl.

I walked out the door and made my way to the college apartments on Third Avenue. By foot it only took 45 minutes, a reasonable time away. I would be able to sleep longer then I had with with Bridesmaid. I was walking past the apartment to make it seem like I was simply someone walking along the streets, when I heard one of the doors to one of the apartments slam with an alarmingly loud bang. My head snapped to the side to spot my second victim, Quarter Queen.

She stomped onto the sidewalk before tearing off her black rimmed glasses and throwing them into the street for their timely demise of a passing car. I stared at her, wondering what those poor, poor glasses ever did to her. I had only seen this girl once in passing on the faithful day I had chosen her, but back then she seemed timid. That was not an act of a timid girl.

She jolted her head toward me, blinded eyes glaring just past my shoulder. "What do youwant, you perv?" I let out a low growl, inaudible to the Quarter Queens hearing. I was not a pervert, I was a murderer. There is a very distinct difference, unless you were so demented as to rape the dead corpse. Would that even be considered rape? They can't very well say 'no', but it would be against their will. Or would it? They are dead after all. They have no say, no will. Although I doubt if you murder a person they would want you to screw their corpse. I suppose you could always ask before you kill them but, really, who would say yes to a question like that?

I'm getting of topic again.

I was about to retort to the rather insulting comment when she wrinkled her nose and scoffed. "Not only a pervert but the worst dressing person on Earth." I stared, mouth dropped at the rude words. She scoffed again and pushed past me, almost forcing me into the road. Shocked, I instinctively followed her with my eyes. She looked back at my calm yet slight appalled composer and scowled before lifting her middle finger and sticking her saliva ridden tongue out at me.

That was the largest mistake she had ever made in her barely teenage life.

Days had passed since out first 'meeting' and within my 'stalking' I had grown more and more annoyed with this ugly, demented, rude child. Within the week that I had properly hidden myself she had greatly insulted 231 people once if not more, not including me the substitute custodian, she had talked back to everyteacher, and slammed her hand down on another child's lunch tray, making it spew all over the defenseless child. Although these offenses were made she remained unpunished. All because of her financial disability.

This made sick. She made me sick.

I would have given up on this girl and found another person with the initials Q.Q., a less sinister one at that, but then a thought crossed my mind. What if no one cared? What if, by killing this one girl, I save millions of people from the abuse she gives to others? I would be doing society, no human race, a favor for killing this Hydra of Horrors. My actions could have a wondrous affect on people. With that thought in mind, I proceed my to follow my tiny subject, he malevolent actions motivating mine. Now that I think back and compare it to Kira, I do believe the same concept was captured by him. He was trying to make the world better.

Damn him for being right, the world could live without pyscophathic masterminds like myself.

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Finally, August 4th came about. I was, for lack of a better word, giddy, though I had never been giddy before I assumed this was it, or at least some form of the term. I threw the covers off myself and practically bounded off the mattress and out the door. I was in such a mood that I actually ran the way to the apartment complex, taking on 20 minutes instead of the original 45. As I walked the steps to her apartment, I smiled.

I laid the bag I brought, filled with sleeping pills and a long, metal pipe, next to door frame and knocked on the door loudly. At four in the morning she would have been asleep and acknowledging this fact I patiently waited outside for the young girl to open the door. 1 minute. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. I began to pound on the door. 1 minute. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. I began banging on the door. 1 min-

She opened the door.

She looked like hell. He cropped hair looked as if imitating Albert Einstein's, her pajama's, if you can honestly call belly shirts and baggy skank shorts pajamas, were twisted around her figure, or lack there of. She looked up me, her sleep deprived eyes laced with annoyance. "Who are you? Have we met? You look familiar..." I smiled at her brightly. Her eyes widened with realization of my identity. She snapped her fingers together and pointed said finger at me, mouth agape. "You're that perv from, like forever ago!"

Suddenly, her eyes became nervous and she began to recoil away from me and into the safety of her home. I took a step toward her and she attempted to slam the door in my face, her eyes wide with terror. Before she could fully close the door I thrusted my leg in between the door and it's frame. She squeaked and and pushed against the door with all her might. I winced at the pain that erupted in my leg.

Finally, I got fed up. I pushed open the door, forcing the young girl backward. She gasped and attempted to run out the door, not the smartest move someone can make. I grabbed her arm and pushed her onto the couch. Her eyes widened and she scrunched herself against the other side of the couch, the tiny throw pillow acting as her shield from me. I rolled my eyes and started toward her, bag in hand. I laid it next to the couch and the girl burst into hysterical, over-dramatic tears. "P-please...don't rape me! I know I'm hot and all but please I'm only thirteen!!" I could barely make out what she was saying through her sobs, but I did.

I threw up a little in my mouth at what she had said.

I grabbed the pills and and poured six into my hand. She looked at me, wide-eyed with terror. "W-wait...no...please! don't do this! I promise I'll do what you want! I wont resist or anything!" I rolled my eyes and walked toward her. She would have screamed out if I hadn't slammed my hand to her mouth, forcing her to stop talking and take the pills. Her mouth drooped and her eyes closed. I smiled, satisfied with shutting her up and grabbed the bat. I started by taking out her eyes and crushing them so they wouldn't get in the way. Then, the real fun began. I started beating the hell out of her, there was no mecy in what I was doing only because I knew that whore was still slightly alive.

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I don't believe anyone reading this would ever be able to understand the trouble and tribulation of having to clean that disgusting place. I had to wipe it of finger prints and blood but not move anything. It was much more work then I wanted to put forth. But I did so anyway. I set up all that needed to be set up for the hint and locked door to the murder and left the house at around five in the evening, very happily. Two murders done, two more to go.

I only wish I could have predicted what happened in the next murder.

Finally this thing is done! I hope you like it! =3 Read and Review!