The Nightmare Killer

Part 1

He still remembered his first kill, the man who had killed his parents. At the time he hadn't thought of anything but defending himself. But he still knew the moment when he realized he had enjoyed doing it. When he realized he loved the feeling of the knife sinking into human flesh, loved watching the life drain from terrified eyes. Back then he hadn't been the famed "Nightmare Killer", just Connor Carswell, the traumatized orphan who had to kill to stay alive. His first true victim was a woman that had abused her power, threatening to fire those who wouldn't comply with her sick wishes of forced love. Sitting where he was, crouched in leafy bushes outside of a suburban home, he nearly laughed out loud remembering how careless he had been. But no one ever caught him. Over the years he learned to leave no evidence, always have an alibi, stay out of unnecessary trouble. He chastised himself silently for letting his mind wander. It was imperative to keep full focus when committing a murder, lack of it could cause a mistake. Mistakes were not permitted. The darkness was thick, palpable in the warm night. The only noise was the sound of his breath and cars whizzing by on the nearby highway. He pulled out his "info sheet" that had all of his victim's facts. His next one was an eighteen year old girl, just out of high school. She had a reputation of body shaming and bullying, not to mention she was on probation for possession of a controlled substance. From his couple weeks of stalking he had learned that she went to parties every Friday night, some innocent, but most were filled with drugs and alcohol, illegal. According to his observations, she should be home around midnight, less than five minutes in the future. He quietly took out his knife, polishing the blade on his black shirt. His matching gloves were new and he was excited to test them out. Somewhere through the bushes he heard a car door slam.
"Shut up, Brittney!" Shouted his target. He felt his lips curl into a smile underneath his cloth mask. The car drove away, tires squealing, and the girl stumbled over to the bushes where he was hiding, puking only feet away from him. He grit his teeth together and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, like a cat waiting to pounce. Soon enough he found his time. He seized the girl by the shoulders, shoving a cloth in her mouth and pressing the tip of the knife to her throat. "Don't say a word," he hissed. She whimpered, but said nothing. He tied her hands and feet together and shoved her onto the ground. Slowly and quietly he pushed harder and harder until blood was pouring from her neck and her eyes were dull. He painted his signature in blood next to the body and left just as he heard sirens in the distance.