I don't own Bones, I know I have 206 in my body, but the Bones from Fox isn't mine.

Disclaimer: Part of this story is written from the ramblings of an insane mind. I can change it, so it flows more easily, but I thought it would take something away from the story. Please review if you think I should correct it, and please don't automatically refused to read because of the grammar.

The Peace in the Procedure

I slept all night, and most of the next day, as a calming peace settled over me. Two weeks and I would need to kill again, but for now, I am satisfied. For now, I am at peace.

I woke from the nightmare screaming. I hated those memories, those memories that I tried to keep hidden. Memories of my childhood. Memories of my parents. Those memories are best left secreted away.

I know the reason they came back this time is that it is past the time for the next kill. The first one created quite a stir, and I was concerned, so I have been waiting, before I do it again. This special team has been assigned to investigate. They are supposed to be the best in the country, so I have to be extremely careful this time. If they get in the way, I guess I will just have to eliminate them. I've done it before, so I won't have any trouble doing it, but it will interfere with my plan.

I have already followed my next kill, so I know her routine. This one should be easier than the first. I think I will grab her on Friday night, this way I can have all day Saturday and Sunday to torture, kill and dump the body. The driving is the hardest part, because I need to cover many miles for each kill. I need to be sure no one knows where I live, so when I kill, I only do it from at least 100 miles away. I can adjust to the driving, that part is easy. That's ok; I will adjust. I will adapt.

Adapting is easy; I do it all the time, every time I move, every time I change my name, and every time I start a new job. Yes, adapting is easy, but I can't change the pattern of the kills, because then the nightmares start. I remember the last time I tried to fight it. I didn't want to kill anymore. I wanted to stop, but I couldn't. The nightmares became so bad I couldn't work. I had to lock myself in the house, so I wouldn't hurt anyone. I wanted to kill everyone who I passed on the street.

Finally, I lost control, and killed a homeless man in the alley. It was hard to clean up, because I didn't plan it out, but I wasn't caught. I moved a few months later. That taught me a lesson, not to fight the killing. When the feeling comes, I must accept it. I must comply. I must kill.

Friday was two days away. Now that I made the plans, I can calm down. I can wait until Friday.

I thought I was able to maintain my composure, but I was not. I destroyed my library today. Taking all the books off the shelves and throwing them all over the room. I know it is because I waited too long for the kill, but since tomorrow is Friday, I can achieve my goal.

I went to her house late at night. I tied her up and gagged her before injecting her with the drug. I waited for it to take effect before taking her to the car. This way she was more compliant. This one was so easy. I just knocked on the door, and asked to use her phone. I told her my car was broken. She just opened the door and let me in. I knew it was going to be easy, because when I researched her, I found out; she was kind and helpful to others. I followed the same procedure as the last time. Over the years, I have discovered that this was the best method. This was how I never was caught.

First, I again had the plastic in the trunk, and then drove from her house to the shack. It was a long drive, almost three hours, and I made sure to obey all traffic laws. I wouldn't want to be caught for a traffic violation. Then I tied her in the chair, using the same rope. Consistency was important. Consistency was the key. Patience so I don't get caught and consistency so I stop the nightmares.

Again the waiting. Again the exercise. When she began to regain consciousness, I stopped working out and watched her. She was pretty, and her eyes were almost green in color. I saw the fear in her eyes, and it excited me. Then she started to scream.

The screaming fed the fever, and I started the torture. I followed the same procedure as the last kill. First, I removed seven of her toes, then seven fingers. I placed them in a box, so I would remember to leave them with the body. Everything had to be in sevens that was the important part. Always seven.

The fever took over at that point and I lost control. I finished the torture, and untied the kill. I placed the rope around her throat, and hung her from the rafters until she was dead. Again, I had to sit and wait until I could control myself. This time it took longer. The pleasure took longer to abate; I knew it would, because each time it feels better and better. Each time the feeling gets stronger. I reveled in the pleasure.

I put the body in the trunk, and drove to the house to dump it. Again, the house was abandoned. The economy helped me out, because there were so many abandoned houses. This time it was in the hall. Placement was important. I followed the same procedure as before, being sure not to leave any evidence, except the note. The note was fun. The note was part of me.

I walked to my car and drove home, feeling exhausted but satisfied. I again placed the garbage in my trunk, to hide the evidence, took a shower, and burned my clothes. Everything the same each time.

I need to repeat the procedure in two weeks. I need to remember what happened last time I waited. There could be no waiting this time. Waiting only caused trouble. Waiting only caused pain. Sleep came quickly, and I didn't wake until work on Monday.