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.

The Dissatisfaction in the Death

I knew I had to concentrate on my kill, but I couldn't stop watching her. It was something about those eyes. I spent all my free time watching her, but she is never alone. I need to find a time when she is alone. That man, Agent Booth, is always around. I saw her on the news, talking about my kills. For some reason I can't get her out of my mind.

Maybe the letter wasn't a good idea. Now he is prepared. I will wait a little while, and maybe he will forget, maybe he will get lazy. Let me finish this kill, and then I will watch her again, because it is hard to watch her, work, and plan my kills at the same time.

I know I will get her. Soon, I will get her. He can't be there always, especially since they put him in charge. One day he will not be there. One day I will win. One day, soon.

The itch was starting again. I was distracted by her, and I am behind schedule. I need to get this kill done. I found my next kill, and I watched her today. She is older than I usually want them, but I must go by the name, so I will take her anyway. This Friday, I will take her. Three days to finish planning. Three days.

The place is easy this time. Almost every house has the right room. I found the house a hundred miles from my killing place. That will have to do. That will have to be far enough. I am trying to watch her and kill at the same time and it is becoming difficult. I thought that watching her would help the fever, but it did not. I still need to achieve my next kill, or the dreams will come again.

Today is Friday. I made it through the week. It was difficult, but I did it. After work, I will grab my next kill, and then take her to the killing place.

It is dark. It is always better under the cover of darkness. I am glad many of these kills, are in remote places. That way no one sees my car, so I can't be identified. It doesn't matter; everything is under a different name. I always have two identities, one for work and one for my possessions. This way I am harder to find. Although I live in Pennsylvania, my car is registered in New York. There are many ways to fool the authorities.

I watched her from across the street. Her house was directly across from a cemetery. No one was around, because people are afraid of cemeteries at night. People avoid them. She came home, and started dinner; after she ate, she went to watch television. There was no alarm system, so this would be easy. I watched as her head began to drop. I could see she was getting tired. Every night she went to bed at nine o'clock. Every night, always the same. I started to get excited, because I knew I would have her soon.

At exactly nine o'clock, she turned off the television and went to bed. I watched her change, take her pills, and get in bed. I waited a half hour, and then I quietly went to the door, and crept inside. It was dark in the room, and I reached up over the side of the bed and placed my hand over her mouth. She struggled at first, but I hit her in the head and knocked her out.

I injected her with the drug, and carried her to the car. Then I began the four-hour drive to my shack. Women were always better than men were, because they screamed more. My heartbeat increased as I drove toward my destination. Soon I would kill, soon I would be satisfied.

I was almost halfway there, when I started to hear a thump, thump, thump, coming from the back of my car. Dam it, I got a flat tire. I got out of the car, to see how bad it was, and knew I was going to run out of time. She would wake up before I made it to the shack, and I didn't have another dose of the medication with me.

Dam. Then I realized that the tire and jack were in the trunk. How was I going to get them? I would have to take her out of the trunk in order to access the tools I needed to change the tire. Someone was going to see me. Someone would find out.

I lost my temper and began kicking and screaming at the car. I pounded on the hood, causing a dent. How could this happen? Son of a bitch! Aghhhh!

I realized that I was losing control, and tried to calm down. I walked around the car several times taking deep breaths. I tried to think of her. Sometimes when I think of her, it helps to calm me. I thought of how much I would enjoy holding her, watching her as she watched me torture the kills, and finally torturing her. I calmed down, and stood next to the car to decide what I should do next.

I couldn't stand here any longer, I had to make a decision. I opened the trunk and took the kill out; she was still unconscious. I laid her down in the back seat, hoping that if anyone stopped, I could say she was sleeping. Then I took out the tire and jack. I realized that it was dark, so it would be easier to hide her.

I had just started to change the tire, when I saw a car coming down the road. I froze, terrified that I would be caught. I held my breath, hoping that it would pass. The car slowed down, and I waved so he would know I was ok. He continued driving, leaving me alone.

I finished the tire, and put everything back in the trunk, but when I went to pick her up, she began to move, and fight me. I dropped her on the ground next to the car, and lost what little control I had. I couldn't take it anymore, I lost my temper. I grabbed the wrench and began hitting her with it. I began screaming and yelling while I continued to hit her.

I stopped myself before I killed her, but I was covered in blood, and so was she. How was I going to transport her to the shack now? I had to finish this, but I didn't want blood all over my car. I sat down next to her and tried to think. I knew the garbage would hide the scent of blood from the dogs, and I could clean my trunk tomorrow. Maybe I could still do it. Maybe I could get her to the shack and finish the torture, before she died. Maybe I could still avoid the nightmares.

I picked up the kill and wrapped it in the plastic, then placed it in the trunk. I was covered in blood, so I took off my clothes, and looked through the car for something to wear. I found an old pair of shorts, but no shirt. That was ok; I was male after all, so I could drive without a shirt. I looked at myself in the mirror, and was relieved to see that there wasn't any blood in my hair.

After placing my clothes in the trunk with the kill, I got in the car and drove to the shack. No one else bothered me the rest of the night. I brought her into the shack, and tied her to the chair. She didn't move. I was exhausted, but I knew she would be dead by morning, so I had to finish the job.

With very little drive left, I completed the torture, and cleaned up. I made sure she was dead, then put her back into the trunk, and dumped her in the house, remembering to put her in the right place. I left the house, and went home.

By the time I went to bed, I was drained of all energy. I fell into a restless sleep.