Chapter 13

Trigger warning: This part contains explicit descriptions of murder, rape and/or torture, which may be disturbing or triggering for some readers.

October 23rd

She got away.

After everything I went through to get her back to the cabin and prepare her for the slaughter, and then there was no payoff.

Now I‘m on a rampage.

Not only was I left with blue balls over not being able to finish the job, but suddenly the life I‘ve carefully constructed—all the lies, all the parts of me I‘ve kept hidden from others for more than thirty plus years—is in jeopardy.

Because of one stupid bitch. And because someone got cocky.

I went out searching for Tina after I realized she‘d escaped, hunted her for hours, but it was impossible. The woods stretched for miles in all directions and I hadn‘t even known where to start. Even with her injuries—and there were many—she‘d managed to get away.

How the hell did this happen?!

Of course, there‘s the possibility that she‘s already dead. That she‘d escaped, only to end up wasting away in the woods. Nothing has been mentioned in the news about a body being found or of an attack on a young black female. So, at least there‘s that.

For the first few days after the colossal clusterfuck that was Tina, I sat glued to the TV, waiting for news to break. I sweated through my shirts, eyes bloodshot, switching from local to national news channels like a tweaker in need of a fix. I drank bottle after bottle of scotch to calm my nerves, because I was sure that at any moment the cops would come pounding on my door, and I‘d discover that I‘d been given up by the one that got away.

As I waited to be found, I‘d devised dozens of escape plans. From my house. From the campus. Routes that would be the least trafficked, allowing me to disappear unseen if the need arose.

I even set up a Google alert with ice-pick as my search word.

It‘s been torture not knowing what‘s going to happen next, and for the first time I realize what my girls must feel like as they‘re blindfolded and awaiting their fate.

The feeling of helplessness is making me want to kill someone.

Of course, with the botched attempt fresh in my mind, I know it‘s not the best time to choose another girl. If the cops are already following me, they‘d be given proof of my guilt if I acted out now.

And then I‘d be done for sure.

So I laid low—something I don‘t like doing. I resent being at the mercy of anyone else. Especially when the cause of my misery is a woman.

It‘s been this way ever since I was a kid.

In grade school and middle school, all my teachers had been women. Old, young, fat, thin, wrinkly, pretty, evil, mean, clueless. I had them all. But deep down, they‘d all been the same. Bossy, assigning homework for no reason, giving us pop quizzes because they could…

And I was a smart kid—probably gifted, though I never let on enough to get tested. Even as a young boy I realized the benefits to hiding the real me—so getting good grades hadn‘t been the problem.

The problem was always the women.

They‘d all thought they were smarter than me. And when I‘d questioned them, either their answers or their ability to teach, they‘d punished me for it.

Since they were adults and teachers, and I was just a kid, they‘d held all the power. And boy had they used it. I‘d racked up detention slips like they were pieces of confetti on New Year‘s Eve. The teachers had tried to humiliate me in class, used me to set an example. And the few times I‘d attempted to make nice with them, just to get them off my back, they‘d accused me of flirting with them or acting inappropriately.

I‘d vowed then that once I was old enough, I‘d never allow another woman to control me. Men are supposed to be the ones with the power anyway, so why did our educational system try to teach us otherwise?

It‘s unnatural and someone had to restore that balance. That‘s how the burden came to fall on me.

Before I was even legal, I‘d accepted my position in the world as a man with power and haven‘t given it up since.

Until Tina.

She ruined everything and now I‘m stuck feeling helpless.

I hate that word. Helpless. But that‘s how I feel. Like I don‘t know if my reign is over and there‘s nothing I can do about it.

It fills me with dread and rage.

Since I never got Tina‘s last name and she refused to tell me any personal information about herself, I can‘t even search for her to find out if she made it out of the woods alive. And that means I can‘t hunt her down and finish the job if she did survive.

So, I have to just sit and wait. Go about my life like I don‘t have a target on my back. Like my insides aren‘t itchy from failure.

Instead, I have to retreat to memories of better times. Times when I‘ve been successful.

Like, my first kill.

Nothing will ever be as good as my first. It had been sloppy and less controlled, yet it was the most satisfying.

Just like getting laid; your first kill is what all future kills are measured against. And while my first time wasn‘t perfect, it was mine. And it was beautiful.

Julie.

I‘d seen her around campus before. She was blond, gorgeous and barely legal. Young enough to think nothing could touch her. Julie had walked with a kind of confidence that most freshmen had on campus. Like, no matter who they‘d been before, they could start fresh and be their own person now that they were on their own.

I‘d witnessed hundreds like her every year and had always thought how easy it would be to…

They just made it so damn easy.

Getting drunk, hooking up with strangers, walking home alone, leaving their dorm rooms wide open, posting where they were at every moment online. It wasn‘t even fair sometimes. Not that I was complaining. It all made my job easier.

It wasn‘t difficult for kids to get ahold of alcohol on campus, even if they were underage. Most of the time they‘d only have to find a party to gain an all-access pass to beer-pong heaven. But sometimes the kids got lazy and they didn‘t want to bum for rides off campus to get their fill. They‘d want to throw their own parties, in their own dorm rooms, where they could just pass out in their own beds at the end of the night.

But that meant they‘d have to bribe someone older than them to get them the party juice.

That‘s how Julie finally crossed my path.

I‘d stopped by a liquor store after work to grab a few bottles of wine to get me through the weekend one Friday afternoon. Classes had gone all day and although most of the students hadn‘t shown up for the early morning seminar, I‘d had to. I still resent the fact that I‘m expected to teach, while irresponsible teenagers were allowed to skip and sleep in.

At least on the weekends, I can drink all night and wake up hungover in the morning, and get back to drinking in the afternoon. My weekends are mine and I don‘t have to worry about showing up for anybody. This suits my lifestyle much more than the one I try to uphold for outward appearances.

The only thing that gets me through it all is the alcohol. In fact, dropping by the store after classes to grab my prudent reserve has become a ritual for me. Something that signals relief is about to be mine.

That particular Friday, Julie happened to be lounging in the sun, sucking on an iced coffee outside of a cafe just a few doors down from my salvation. She‘d watched me exit my car and then followed me with her eyes as I‘d walked toward the store.

“You buyin‘?“ she‘d asked me with an adorable southern accent, as I passed her.

I hadn‘t been sure what she meant, but I was intrigued. “Buying what?“ I‘d asked, giving her an easy smile.

She‘d brought her hand up to shade her eyes from the sun. She was really tiny. I bet she‘d been a cheerleader. Or a gymnast.

“Beverages, silly,“ she‘d said, giggling.

I‘d studied her, trying to figure out what her angle was.

“Er, actually, yeah. It‘s just about happy hour for me,“ I‘d said, and shoved my hands into my pockets sheepishly. “Long week of classes, you know.“

“Oh, ah know!“ she‘d cooed. “Me, too. In fact, I could use a lil‘ happy hour myself. Unfortunately, I left my license at home…any chance you wanna buy me a drink? Maybe a few bottles? I‘ll pay for ‘em of course, and get a lil‘ somethin‘ for you, too. Start your weekend off right and all.“

I knew she didn‘t have an ID that said she was twenty-one, but what did I care? I wasn‘t a DARE officer. Still, I wanted to play with her a bit before I gave her what she wanted.

“I don‘t know,“ I‘d said, looking around like I was really unsure about it.

“Come on!“ she‘d said, reaching out and touching me on the arm. “Dontcha wanna have a drink with me?“

Now she was trying to play with me.

Oh, little girl, you have no idea what you‘re getting yourself into, I‘d thought.

“Well, how can I say no to that?“ I‘d said finally, refusing her money and heading inside the store to get her some vodka and myself some wine.

Afterward, I‘d offered to take her back to campus and hadn‘t even called her out when she‘d told me she lived in one of the freshman dorms. But before we got there, I pulled off into a park, telling her I couldn‘t be seen with her on campus with alcohol.

“You did promise me that drink,“ I‘d reminded her, teasingly.

She‘d been so happy to have secured the booze that she would‘ve done just about anything I asked, so we proceeded to the park and started drinking.

Well, she did. I‘d poured one shot after another for her, and given her tiny size, she‘d been drunk within fifteen minutes.

“You‘re cute,“ she‘d said. Girls always get horny when they drink. They also get emotional, so you have to get to the good stuff before they started crying, otherwise your night is shot. At that moment though, Julie was a happy drunk.

We started to make out and after a few minutes, she‘d slurred, “I can‘ waitta tell my girlfriends that I made out with an actual professor. They‘re gonna die!“

I‘d stopped cold. This is why I usually don‘t bother with younger girls. They talk too much. Gossip to their friends. Divulge secrets that could get me in trouble.

At this point I‘d already told her my name and if people found out I‘d gotten a student drunk and kissed her, my career would‘ve been over and I would‘ve gone down. Hard. The media loves to jump on these kinds of stories.

It had barely been a decision for me to kill her. Truthfully, I‘d been thinking about it a lot back then. Just taking advantage of girls hadn‘t been doing it for me anymore and there was always the danger that one of them would tell the cops.

And part of me had wondered what it would be like.

What it would be like to watch the lights go out in their eyes, and their spirit (or soul if you believed in that kind of thing) leave the body. I‘d been feeling the pressure to take things to the next level and that was my chance.

“Why don‘t we go somewhere a little less…public,“ I‘d suggested, my mind already working three steps ahead.

“Well, I sorta gotta get back,“ she‘d said, still all sweet and innocent. “I promised my friends and they‘re countin‘ on me…you understand, right? I really appreciate the ride though, and the booze.“

She‘d already decided she was finished with me. The tease.

“Okay, no problem,“ I‘d said. “Here, let me give you my number…in case you ever need me again.“

I‘d reached into the back of my car as she‘d begun to check out her reflection in the side mirror. As she fixed her hair, I pulled the plastic off of one of my dry-cleaned shirts and then slipped the hanger free. A few tugs later and I had a roundish noose that I dropped down over her head. Yanking backward, I felt her struggle against it, but between the alcohol and the suddenness of my attack, she didn‘t even realize what was happening.

I‘d taken her away then. She wasn‘t dead yet, but once I‘d gotten to my cabin, I‘d spent the next four hours acting out all of my darkest fantasies. At times it was like it wasn‘t even me doing it. All those horrible things.

And then it was over and I‘d done it. I‘d finally crossed that line. I may have fought against it at first, but I‘d finally given in to the evil.

It was never as thrilling as it had been that first time. Still, I try to recreate it over and over again.