Nov 29
3:06 am
His fingers carassed her hair. It was brittle and greasy but to him it had never felt so fine. He was sorry to see her go. She had been one of his favorites. Edward had been in the game for a very long time. This was just a new place to begin.
He had originally been from Florida. His mother had been born there. He never had any other family that he had known of. It was easier this way. When he graduated High School with high honors he had the world at his fingertips. He went to school by day and prowled the town by night. When at last his schooling was over he did the last thing he knew to do. He packed all his belongings and was determinded to never return. His mother was the last murder he commited in Florida.
He got jobs in which ever town he happened to come across. He did not stay to long in the same place. He wanted to see what the world had to offer. The following states had no idea what had crawled over their state lines. Each visit left a rash of murders across the counties. The police force was as baffled as they had always been. Edward had gotten away with it.
Like he always would. He knew the finer lessons in life and he knew that in order to be at the top you had to fight your way there. He was prepared to fight until his very last breath.
When he had travled in DuBois, Pa he felt that this was a place to be. The people walked around with careless abandon. They trusted strangers. They would do anything for a pretty smile. They did not guard their life at all. It was easy pickings for a man like him. What is the difference between doing what you love to do or hating your life because you can't? Society would label him a monster but in his eyes he did nothing wrong. Humans slaughtered innocent animals all the time. It was easier eating your hamburger when you did not know the awful slaying that had happened to make it. Nobody every really cared to understand the truth of life.
Life was all about death and blood. Wars had been fought where millions have died. Animals are raised on farms for the sole purpose of feeding the population. If you look into your history books you will see that this is true. Murder has been in our culture since our culture began. What made Edward any different? He sought out the weak because he was strong. He felt no remorse.
His hands ran down her mangled torso. He was extra careful to slowly go over each scabbed line that he had made. She had fought until the very end. Maybe those that beg for death only wish it until it comes upon them. She had begged for death but looking at her body now left no doubt. She had very much wanted to stay alive.
The girl had been through alot. He had to admit that. Her legs were gone, as were her arms, he had made incisions all through out her abdomen and all without any anesthetic. Her blood had pooled and congested underneath the table. He would have to clean all this up before he found another to take her place.
Suddenly the room seemed to close around him. His last efforts were to close the victims eyelids before he left the room. He could not stand the sight of her accusing eyes. His steps were heavy as he climbed the steps. He lifted the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the steel door. He opened the door and shut it behind him.
He went to his sink and began the task of washing all the blood off his hands and forearms. He then added powder to the water to make sure that the blood would never be able to be detected. He walked back to the steel door and hit a hidden switch. The wall came down and the door disappeared. No one would be able to know that there was a room there because he was the one that had built it.
He went into his expansive living room and sat on the couch. He turned the tv on to watch the news. He always found great amusement in the police officers attempt to find clues. It wasn't until they started showing photo's that Edward got happier. The girl that was laying on the slab downstairs was here on his screen. Her blonde hair and smile not matching with his mental images of her. Her name had been Lisa. Why hadn't he remembered that?
He turned the tv off and got off the couch. He walked to his windows and stared out into the night sky. He could see a million stars from his window. He never did like looking up. It made him feel miniscule compared to everything.
He felt this void inside his chest. Now that his play thing was gone, who did he have? He had to clean up and dispose and then he could then go find someone. He did not want to wait that long. His victims were nothing to him. Yet they did play a part in his life. He liked having them there. He liked being reminded of how powerless they were. He liked having them where no one would ever find them again.
Yet now he was alone. Alone as he had always been. He couldn't stop the memories from coming forward. He had been a child. His mother would not hold him. He had cried for hours in his crib until his lungs hurt. She had still left him there. She did not care about her son. Another memory came and swept him into the past.
He was just four years old. He had a neighbor named Jon who always tried to get him to play. Edward did not know how to play. Jon had a birthday party that week and from his little bedroom window Edward could see it all. Jon had a bouncy house, a clown, and cake. Edward had never had cake before. And then came all the presents. Jon had parents, friends, grandparents, so he had a ton of presents. He watched as Jon smiled as he opened each present.
Edward had never had presents. He had never even celebrated his birthday. His mother never gave him anything. Christmas was the same. His mother would leave the house and never take him with her. It was many years before the neighbors even knew she had a son. She would leave him for many long hours at a time. Edward did not even know how to feed himself. He would crawl on chairs to reach the pantry. The hard metal cans did not break under his teeth. The only thing he could get was the cereal.
He would sit in the corner and eat fruit loops while tears streamed down his face. He did not understand. He was too young to understand. He hated Jon. He hated that Jon had presents. That Jon had parents who cared about him. Because from a very early age Edward knew that no one loved him. No one would ever love him.
Edward then went onto school because his mother had too send him. He wore shirts that the salvation army had given his mother. His mother did not spend any money on him. He wore hand me downs. His shoes were taped from the uppers. He had cloth sack that he used for his papers. One lucky day he had been walking home from school and seen things out by the road for the garbage truck. He had sifted through it to find a dented and old lunchbox.
It was his most favorite item. It had Scooby Doo on the front. Though at that time, he didn't know who Scooby even was. His mother would not let him watch tv. It still was special to him. It didn't take long for the school bully to try and take it from him. It was the first time that he had stuck up for himself. He had attacked the bully with such ferocity that they had actually sent him home. His mother in her cruelty had beat him and had taken the lunchbox away from him. He learned to never let anyone know where he kept his special items.
Each year that passed only brought the same things. His mother abused him in anyway that she could. She would order pizza and make him watch her eat it. He was malnourished and mistreated. It only seemed to intesify his hatred.
Edward had a small room behind the pantry. There was a small window and a dimly lit bulb. It held no bed, no dresser, no personal items. Edward had never had a toy. He did not know how to play. He did not know how to do anything but sit in silence. He would grab his raggedy blanket and sit in the corner. He would stare at the wall until he fell asleep. The only thing keeping him company was his thoughts. Each night his thoughts would get worse.
Each night his thoughts would become darker and darker. Until the only thing that Edward knew was the dark. Until one night, the only thing left was the darkness creeping through his soul. He felt nothing. He was nothing. And from that day, that was how it had always been.
Edward snapped back to the present. He ran his fingers through his bronze hair and sighed. He walked out of his elaborate living room and up the stairs. He opened the door to his room and stepped inside. Just like from his childhood, his room was bare. He went to the corner and slumped against the wall. He grabbed the blanket and covered himself. He fixed his green eyes on the far wall and drifted into his thoughts. Eventually his thoughts consumed him and he drifted into his nightmares. Edward did not know the different between nightmares and real life. It all felt the same to him.