The Urge

Hi, my name is Brian, and I'm a serial murderer. I haven’t killed anyone for 365 days. They say anniversaries are the hardest, that it’s exactly when you feel like you’re standing on the edge. The emptiness inside feels so palpable, like it’s about to consume you whole. Unfortunately, there’s no '12-step programme' for guys like me. Although my addiction is just as intense, it tightens around my neck like a noose. The thing is, my urge isn't constant like it is for people who crave alcohol or drugs. It comes on suddenly and then I'm ready to lash out at anything that crosses my path.

I enjoy taking lives. Seeing the light fade from someone's eyes and watching fear turn into despair as they realize there's no turning back. It’s a moment of absolute control, when every movement, every breath belongs to me. Their fear... I find it quite amusing. The feeling of their body tensing in its final spasms, as life slips away, leaving nothing but emptiness... It lasts only seconds, but to me, it feels like ages. I can't think of anything else in the world that would give me that kind of satisfaction.

But I've always kept a cool head. It's my sense of safety that's kept me out of trouble all these years. I never act on impulse. I plan every step I take down to the finest detail. I have no 'signature.' All my victims are different in terms of age, gender, nationality and so on. I never kill in the same city twice. It’s my personal rule, a way to ensure that no trail ever leads back to me.

As a matter of fact, it was this that finally made me stop. I’ve seen others like me lose their grip and become easy prey themselves. They thought they were untouchable, that they could keep playing this game forever. But eventually, they’d leave behind clues, like Bundy or Gacy, losing control until they became victims of the justice system. They made the mistake of not knowing when to stop, of not understanding that the risk outweighed the reward. The difference between them and me is that I can see where that line is. I know when to take a step back.

But every few months, the craving squeezes me so tightly, I feel like I’m going to scream. I've found a way to manage it, though. As soon as I feel the urge getting too strong, I head to the woods. Nature hides me from people. I pick the roughest trails, the most remote routes, where there’s almost no chance of running into anyone. The forest helps me to relax and regain my sense of control.

But this craving, it's like a hunger. It never fully goes away. It just curls up somewhere deep inside, waiting. Waiting for the moment when the forest, nature, and darkness can no longer restrain me. Because I am a predator, and this hunger is always with me.

Suddenly, a loud crack of dry wood comes from the other side. I freeze instantly, feeling my heart pound as if it would burst. What is that? Could it be a bear? A wolf? Was it something that could make me its prey? My throat goes dry, and I feel afraid to move. I listen carefully. The sound comes again, but softer this time. I can't make out what it is.

Silence. I stand there, trying to catch even the faintest sound, and my heart slowly begins to calm. It wasn’t an animal, so I decide to follow the sound. Step by step, I push through the thick brush, moving between the trees as quietly as I can to avoid being noticed.

What I see makes my heart beat fastermy vision blurring. It’s a girl. Noticing me, she smiles with relief and calls out loudly:

“Oh, thank God! I was freaking out! You have no idea how glad I am to see someone! I’ve been lost for ages, thought I’d never get out..”

The poor girl thinks I’m here to help. That I’ll be able to save her. Pitiful sight.

She takes a step closer, as if she thinks I might disappear into the woods, and starts talking even faster.

“I went off the trail and got lost… Look, I heard this crack and thought it was some kind of predator. I was too scared to even breathe! Swear, I thought that was it ̶ꟷ like, any second now, it’d jump out from the bushes…”

Breathe in… Breathe out… I’ll save her. This doesn’t have to be the end of the road for us. I bite my lip. I could just leave her here and give her a chance to find her way back. “Get a grip, man,” I mutter under my breath, turning away and taking a step.

“No! Please… Don’t leave me here! I’m begging you!” Her voice trembles, and she rushes after me, grasping my hand. Her eyes are red with tears, and her face is tight with fear. Her hands feel so weak, as if there’s no blood in her veins, but pure innocence.

I look at her, and maybe there’s something in my eyes that she’s starting to notice. Something that hints at my true nature.

“Well… since you ask so nicely…” I reply, smiling.

***

I step out of the forest, and the darkness seems to welcome me as if I've finally come home. The cold air chills me, but inside — a familiar warmth.

My name's Brian. I'm a serial murderer. And I haven’t killed in five hours.

***

“What kind of sick bastard are you?” Detective Thomson thought, staring at the crime scene photos. He lit another cigarette and leaned back in his worn-out chair. Over the years, he’d seen plenty, but this case…. Whoever did this was twisted.

The phone rang. Thomson silently picked up, still holding his cigarette in his mouth.

“Sir, you won’t believe this,” his junior officer’s voice was buzzing with excitement. “IT finally restored the footage from that body cam on the girl in the woods.”

“And what’s on it? A heartfelt confession?” the detective scoffed.

“Not quite. But we’ve got the mug of this dumbass in HD — clear as day,” the officer replied, laughing.

Thomson’s lips curled into a cold smile as he stubbed out his cigarette. “Looks like this idiot rolled out his own red carpet straight to us.”