Author's Note: I was in the murder-y mood when I wrote this. I was also a little delirious from all the antihistamines I was taking, so please excuse the mistakes I (no doubt) made :)

Day One-Hundred Eighty-Four: Serial Killer by Lana Del Rey

I took a sip of my rum and cherry Coke as I looked around the bar. I was victim hunting.

It was no secret that I was a sex addict. At least, it wasn't to any of my friends. They were all concerned and they all wanted me to get therapy for it, but…what was the problem, really? It was just sex. It wasn't like I was doing drugs.

Well, I did have another addiction that nobody else knew about.

"This is from the guy over there," the bartender said as he put another cherry coke and rum in front of me. He pointed to a guy with green eyes at the end of the bar. He gave me a cocky smile. I smiled back.

Each and every time I went home with someone, I always thought that maybe I'd find my soulmate. Maybe I could stop searching because I would have found the one. I always prayed I would and that it would put an end to all of my problems. But it never happened like that. My stupid addiction always had to get in the way.

I had him right where I wanted him.

"I'm kind of into some…weird things," I said as I sat next to him. "I hope you don't mind that." He looked like he was the kind of guy who was up for anything, though. I smiled.

"I have this asphyxiation fetish?" I put my hands on his neck, like I was asking for permission. When he didn't argue, I pushed down on his throat. By the time he realized that what I was doing was not some weird fetish, he was already too weak and lightheaded to really fight back. He was a goner.

I'd killed men like that before. Maybe once or twice. I didn't really like that method as much; I didn't get the same thrill from it like I did with actually seeing someone bleed. Sure, there was that sense of control and the idea that you had someone's life quite literally in your hands, but it just wasn't the same. Still, it was easier than cleaning up a lot of blood.

After I dumped the body, I took a shower and got redressed. Maybe I'd go out again. Not for another victim, but…to find someone and do something entertaining and sociable for once.

I just couldn't stop my awful thoughts. I knew I was insane. But…I couldn't help it. I had no self-control. I know it's not right to murder and kill, but I loved it. I couldn't stop. I was in control. I was in control of my actions and my body and I had power. I just wanted power and control.

I walked into a club. I felt confident for some reason walking in. Sometimes an old friend of mine, Alison, liked to call me "Blue Hot"; the blue flames were always hotter than the white and red ones. I guess I never really believed her, but it was sort of true. I mean, it had to have been. I was almost like a siren with all the guys I lured and later killed…too many.

I was dancing on the floor and I saw somebody out of the corner of my eye. Normally, it didn't faze me; it was just a potential victim and a hunger in my stomach that I wanted to quell, but at the same time, wanted to feed.

I decided to look him over and I felt lightheaded for a second.

Is that you, soulmate?

He was with a girl. She was talking at him, it seemed, while he looked over my way. I smiled at him. The girl next to him—a pretty little blonde—looked over at where he was staring and saw me. I smiled at her, too. She glared.

I decided that I was done with this and walked out. The blonde, however, did not agree with me and brought the fight outside.

"What is your problem?" She spoke with a slur. Clearly, she was drunk.

"I don't know what your problem is, but I don't have a problem," I responded as I began to walk away. She grabbed for whatever part of my body she could grab and ended up grabbing my hair and pulling me back. I turned around and slapped her without thinking it over. I didn't say anything else but began to walk away from her.

"Bitch!"

I went home that night and looked at my piece of paper. Twenty names. I had really killed twenty people.

I was scared of falling in love. That was it; I murdered love before it could murder me.

If you really want to know the truth, I was raped several months ago; that was how I lost my virginity. Every single person I had slept with since then had died. I'd killed them. I don't know what I think of sex. Pleasurable…sure. But love was just a God-forsaken thing. It was such a gratifying thing for me to watch all those men fall, one-by-one. Watching scum fall and fight for their lives. All those men were scum. They were all those cocky guys. Those ones who just preyed on women and you could see it in their eyes. They said disgusting, dirty things like, "You have sex eyes," to young girls about fifteen years old.

But I guess I was scum, too. I murdered. If anyone was going to love me, I guess it would be scum, right?

I laid down on the bed as I read all the names, written in my perfect cursive handwriting.

It was silent in the room. Just how I liked it.

The next day, I went to a different bar. There was that same guy, without the company of that annoying girl from the night prior. There was something different about him. He wasn't like the others; he didn't look like scum.

I wanted him. I didn't know what I wanted to do with him; all I knew was that he was mine. I snuck up on him quietly. He wasn't at all resistant to my advances, but he didn't act like a jerk, either. He was responsive and just enough at that.

"Do you want me?"

I wanted him to. I wanted something different with this guy. He was different. He made me want to be different for him.

I'd been seeing him somewhat casually for a while. At least…I think it was casual. It was hard to tell; I hadn't been in a relationship in a long time. I don't think he took it as seriously as I did in my mind. I was right; he wasn't like the other guys. I didn't sleep with him. In fact, I hadn't slept with anyone since I met him. That was like a new personal best for me.

At the same time that I thought I loved him, I was scared, too. I wanted to preserve him and keep him safe to the point where I wasn't sure what I would do. I was a sociopath…remember?

"What do you want to do?" I asked one night.

There was this sort of smile on his face that I had never seen before. It wasn't really evil, but it was more sultry than usual. "I have a few ideas," he said.

I felt my stomach flip-flop when he kissed me more fervently than usual. I was hoping that this didn't turn into something I couldn't control. I didn't want to give into my own dark fetishes, but I was more than willing to see what he had in mind for us.

There was something that just felt so heavenly and divine about the way he touched me. There's no other way to describe it.

It was fun for him. It felt like a game to me. I never wanted to play with the same person over again so I got rid of them and got a new one. But something about him made me want to keep him around. I didn't want anyone new around. But how did I control those dark fantasies that had been in my mind for so long?

I knew I'd have to tell him. "Toby?" I asked as we lay together. "I need to tell you something," I said as I rolled over to look at him. He looked expectant. I took a deep breath. "I'm a sociopath."

For a moment, he looked like he thought I was just kidding around with him. I went on to explain myself. "I have a problem, mentally. I have these dark desires that I can't keep to myself," I said quietly. This was more naked than I had ever gotten before. "And I get scared of them sometimes and I don't want to hurt you," I confessed. I really didn't want to hurt him. I was a sociopath, but I didn't feel like I was that mal-intentioned.

"Like what?" He sounded a little timid when he asked.

"Dark things," I answered even more cryptically. "But you don't have to be worried about it personally. It has everything to do with me and nothing to do with you."

Hopefully.

MilaMizz: Now it's 46! And 45 more for me to write. I had to dip back into my Red AU files to write 186 (which I'm starting tonight). Spoiler. That's good. I felt like I did awfully in the first quarter of high school, but my grades were pretty much normal (except for probably math). That's good. Usually, I get lucky enough to work with people who don't totally slack off. SAME. There are like 13 and 14 year olds having sex and I still can't decide whether I want to pretend I'm 12 and order off the kids menu. Like, I'm really that lame. I wouldn't put it past myself to go to Denny's and order dino chicken nuggets. I probably would if I were really desperate.

AL3110:Now I missed you like a crazy person. Yeah, they really do need one. With Spoby. Could you picture them on the elevator? no, they're healthy. On the stairs. I don't think I watched it idk. BECAUSE ORANGE JUICE IS LIFE like idk what is wrong with you pft you like apple juice. That was so seven years ago when I was like eight. Holy shit. Seven years ago, I was eight. That makes me feel so old. I didn't know that. That's cool. That's good! Good job Alliecat! I literally don't even know what you're talking about. What little girl? There was no little girl in "Tired of Singing the Blues". I think I mentioned a girl maybe once. I don't even think I said little girl in that entire thing. It's not even that hard: Spencer is a really lost soul and she happens to be a prostitute. Toby is her friend and feels bad for her and everything. Spencer knows that Toby likes her and she kind of likes him back. She thinks he won't be with her because his parents won't like her or because he doesn't want to be seen with her. Toby asks her point blank about her being raped, which happened when she was 16. That's why she's so...loose, I guess, when it comes to sex (as in, she doesn't really care). Then, he tells her that she has a boyfriend, who she's with just because she...idk she feels lonely, I guess. He stays the night with her. The end. No. Alyssa is MilaMizz. Sarah is the one who wants to be Mrs. Ed Sheeran. And not Broadway Sarah. Other Sarah. Canadian Sarah. Yeah, you told me. Tell me on Friday so I can drill you about it. I'm actually sad about Scotland, too. Weird, but I am.

The next one-shot will be A Hundred Years from Now by Sharon Kenny.

Now, on a more serious note, if I seem really sad in the next few days, it's because I have a bit of a health quandary involving my back and...yeah, I'm just in pain, so please be nice? Idk why I felt like sharing this, but I feel like you're my friends, so...bye. -Kayson