The Men's Room Slayer
By: Chica from San Diablo
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Diagnosis Murder.I merely twist them to suit my twisted humor.
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Chapter One: Locked Doors and Surprising Discoveries
GRAHAM'S POV
I locked the door to the Men's room at the mall. I'm about 6'7" tall, weighing 172 pounds, with lightly tanned skin, short dirty blonde hair, and blue-grey eyes. I was wearing a black t-shirt, blue jeans, and black sneakers. My name is Graham Frey, and I'm forty years old.
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The young man drying his hands looked up in surprise at me. This man was about thirty, with light blondish-brown hair and brown eyes. He was shorter than me, and was quite trim, with the bearing of a lawyer or a doctor.
"What'd you do that for?" he asked.
I didn't answer; he was checking to make sure we were alone. We were. I pulled out a knife. The young man's eyes widened in fear, and he backed up until his back hit a wall. I walked over to the man, and stood mere inches from him, majorly violating his personal space.
"See this knife?" I asked, holding it under the man's nose.
The man nodded, too scared to speak.
"If you try and escape, or fight me, I will use this knife to kill you and then chop you up into little pieces," I said, "Understand?"
Once again, the terrified man nodded.
"Good."
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I used my knife and cut down the front of the man's shirt. I pulled one arm out of a sleeve, and slid the whole shirt off the other arm. I got on my knees, and undid the man's pants, pulling them and his plaid boxers down to his ankles.
Standing back up, I said, "Lie face-down on the floor."
When the man hesitated for the briefest moment, I mimed slitting my throat with the knife. The man got the message, and threw himself on the cold tiled floor. I took this opportunity to drop my own pants and underwear to my knees.
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Leaning over the man, I grabbed his wrists with both hands and raped him. The man screamed and cried in pain, but obviously decided this was better than death, because he kept still.
When I was finished, I stood up, pulled up my pants and boxer shorts, squatted down, and grabbed the sobbing man's hair, yanking his head back. With my free hand, I slit the young man's throat, and slammed his head hard on the floor, making him lose consciousness. Then, I unlocked the door and left.
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ELÉONORE'S POV
I came into the bathroom, saw the unconscious and bleeding man, and called 911 on my cell phone. Grabbing the injured man's ripped shirt, I held it against his cut throat. The unconscious and injured man was rushed to Community General Hospital.
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AMANDA'S POV
As the man was hurried down into the emergency ward, I got a glimpse of the man as he went by my office. Recognizing him, I ran into the lounge to get Dr. Mark Sloan, the Head of Internal Medicine.
"Mark, a man was just rushed into the emergency ward for some stitches; his throat was slit," I said, "its Jesse."
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A/N: How was it? Leave a review, good or bad, while I go and write chapter two.