Be The Change

I stood with a kitchen knife in hand, staring down at the blood pooling below the woman I just stabbed. No feelings, other than disappointment. “Damn it, it wasn’t supposed to be like this! I am trying to be better!” I looked around, trying to find a way to fix this, but no luck. That's when I noticed who I assume was her husband standing in the door. 

I could see his body flex, as if he were trying to decide to run or attack. Neither of us moved for a long moment. I heard him quietly repeating his wife's name. His eyes darted back and forth between her body and me, trying to figure out what to do. “This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go!” I said.

He looked at me, stunned.

Before we go any further, let me catch you up on how I got here.

My life has been what most would call great. My parents were kind, loving, and supportive people. My siblings were always there for me. I never wanted for anything. 

High school was easy for me. Not only was I blessed with a great mind, but athletic genes as well. While I wasn’t the best at any sport, I was good enough to make varsity for each sport I played, and being an athlete in high school basically meant celebrity status.

I graduated with top marks, and even had several teachers write letters of recommendation for me. I was accepted into a top school in New York, and was planning on becoming a lawyer for some massive firm in New York City. 

The only downside to my life was I never felt excited, or happy, or sad, or scared. I never really felt any emotion, and seeing others experience these things could be frustrating at times. 

This became more obvious when I was babysitting my little sister. I was ten years older than she was, so when my parents wanted to have a date night and my older siblings had other plans, it was my job to watch her. 

It was bath time and, having watched our mom get ready for work many times, she decided that she wanted to blow dry her hair…while she was in the bathtub. Even though I knew this was dangerous and I shouldn’t allow it, I did anyway. I had this odd desire to see what would happen if she were to drop that blow dryer in the water. And that is exactly what happened.

It happened so quickly. As soon as the blow dryer hit the water, there was a snap and crackle, and then her body went rigid. She stiffened, and her head smacked the edge of the tub. 

I quickly unplugged the blow dryer, but it was too late. She was already gone. I knew my parents and siblings would be heartbroken, but deep down, I felt nothing. I knew I was supposed to be sad, though, so I played the part. And so it went until college.

There, I would spend a lot of my spare time watching documentaries on a variety of subjects, but the ones on serial killers really drew me in. What fascinated me most was hearing these killers say that they did these things to feel something. The more I watched, the more it seemed that this was the common theme in the killers’ motivation to commit these acts.

Eventually, the time came when I finally decided to take my first life. And for the first time in my life, I felt excitement. It was a rush like I’d never felt before, and I hadn’t even committed the deed yet. I suddenly knew this was what I was missing in my life.

Looking back on my first time, I still get a slight rush. That isn’t to say things went well…in fact, it was terrible.

I had chosen a beautiful, friendly woman. She also seemed somewhat reserved, which was important because it meant that she was less likely to start screaming her head off at the first sign of trouble. I watched her for three weeks, memorizing her habits and where she would spend her time. I did this so that when I was ready, I knew exactly when and where to grab her. 

I recalled one of the men from the serial killer documentaries saying, “If you wait too long, you will keep convincing yourself that the risk is too great. But it's never going to be safe. When you have a plan, execute! It's that simple.”. So, when I thought I had learned everything I needed to know about her, I felt it was finally time.

She was a teaching assistant, and I knew that night she would be at the library doing her homework review. While doing these reviews, she was always alone, always upstairs, in a secluded area in the back. And that's exactly where I found her. 

She didn’t notice me slip up the stairs, around behind her, and between the book cases. From there, I could see her, and I could also watch for anyone else coming up the stairs. I had made sure that there was no one else in the library besides the librarian, and decided that the timing was as good as it was going to get. 

My plan was to sneak up behind her with the chloroform rag, knock her out, and pull her back between the book cases. I had to be swift, as the concoction would dissipate quickly and become ineffective. So there I stood, bottle in one hand and rag in the other. My heart was beating with excitement, and I actually felt a smile on my face. 

I counted to three, poured the chloroform on the rag, replaced the cap and slid the bottle into my pocket, then raced forward. I was so focused on her, I didn’t notice that she had placed her bag behind her chair, so as I was about to wrap my hand around her face, I tripped, my hand completely missing her face and landing firmly on her breast. At first she started to get up, but then settled down.

“I’ve missed you!” she said. She slowly leaned her head to the side, exposing her neck, and I suddenly realized…she thought I was someone else. 

My heart pounding, I started to pull my hand away, accidentally dropping the cloth into her lap. “Damn it!” I thought, “How do I get that back?” My mind raced until I remembered the extra rag I had stashed in my pocket. I quickly pulled my hand back and slipped it into my pocket, pulling out the extra rag. 

She started to get up, but I placed a hand on her shoulder, and she sat back down. I slid the cloth around her face, covering her eyes like a blindfold. “Oh, I see! It’s been a while, Mr. Stranger.” she said playfully, “Do you intend to punish me?” 

“Um .. what is happening?” I asked myself, “I knew tonight would be crazy, but I certainly wasn’t expecting my first lesbian experience!” I rolled my eyes, slightly frustrated, and continued to play along. I tugged at the cloth, tying it tightly against her head. 

“Oh, you ARE going to punish me!” She said, her voice taking a slightly tantalizing tone. 

I still had to get the cloth from her lap, but she was becoming so … aroused, that it was getting difficult to continue. As I was about to grab it, some of the lights went off, including the one overhead, and now I could hear another person speaking with the librarian. This was not at all going according to plan, but if I stopped, I would be caught. I had to keep going. 

She laid her head back on my shoulder, and leaning forward, I slowly moved my hands down her stomach to her lap, grabbing the rag. 

In one fluid motion, I managed to pull the bottle from my pocket and soaked the rag once again. As I was about to put the rag to her face, she suddenly stood up, bent forward, and put her hands on the table.

“It's been too long, no more teasing!”, she demanded. “I need it!” 

“Wow” I thought to myself, “this is getting ridiculous.” I had no interest in keeping up the act, but she demanded to be punished, so not knowing what else to do, I smacked her ass.

“Oh, yes!” she said, breathing heavily. “Again! Harder!”

I did, this time hard enough that I could hear a quiet echo, even with my gloves and her jeans to soften the blow. She moaned. 

“I NEED you! Now!” she demanded. She straightened up and started to remove the blindfold. Panicked, I leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth. She let go of the blindfold, and wrapped her arms around me. I wrapped my arms around behind her, taking the opportunity to once again open the bottle and soak the rag. At this rate, I was going to run out of chloroform. 

Pulling away from the kiss, I quickly lifted my hand to her face and finally managed to place the rag over her mouth and nose. 

At first, she didn’t realize what was happening. I could feel her chin move, as if she was trying to say something, and then her hands on my arms trying to pull them away. But it was too late now, the chemicals had started taking effect almost instantly. So quickly, in fact, that she crumpled to the floor before I could catch her, hitting her head on the chair as she fell. 

“Finally,” I thought, “that was just weird.”

Grabbing her by the arms, I started pulling her toward the nearby exit. It was an emergency exit, so I knew that as soon as I opened it, the alarms would sound…but I had practiced the timing in my head, and knew I could make my escape before any real trouble arrived. 

I propped her up against one of the book shelves, and then grabbed the bag that I had left close by. I pulled out a rope, tying her wrists and ankles, then covered her mouth with duct tape. 

I hurried over to where she had been working and cleared the table, so that if anyone came up, it would look as though she had left. I grabbed her cell phone, which she had left laying on the table, and noticed she had a few missed text messages. I rushed over to her with the phone, and used her thumb to unlock it. Four missed messages.

Message One: Hey babe! I am running late!

Message Two: Still stuck here. Are you doing ok?

Message Three: Ignoring me now? Hmmm…maybe it’s time for a visit from Mr. Stranger!  

Message Four: Oh, you are going to be punished tonight!

“Damn it!” I said out loud. I wasn’t expecting someone to be meeting her. I wasn‘t sure how long I had, and I noticed that she was starting to stir, so I knelt down in front of her and removed the blindfold. I needed to see her eyes when she finally realized what was happening. 

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open and she started looking around in confusion. Her eyes widened as they met mine, and the realization of her situation started to sink in.

“Not Mr. Stranger, I’m afraid.” 

Sadly, she could not see the smile behind my mask. 

She began to struggle, and I hadn’t noticed that one of her legs had come free, so when I felt the blow to my crotch, it caught me by surprise and I stumbled a bit. 

“Come on, Julia! Don’t lose focus!” I snapped at myself. I recovered quickly and bound her ankles again, grabbed the knife from my bag and knelt in front of her. 

“Nice try. Now where were we? Ahh yes…no, I am not your Mr. Stranger, here to bring you pleasure. You do have the honor of being my first, though, so the pleasure is all mine!” Then, without further hesitation, I pressed the tip of the knife against the skin of her neck, and slowly slid the blade into her throat. I watched with great satisfaction as her eyes widened even further with the realization that she was going to die. 

I left the blade lodged in her throat, as she squirmed and thrashed as much as the tight bonds would allow. She looked at me, her eyes pleading, but her desperation was lost on me. The only thing I felt at that moment was the excitement of what I had done, and it was exhilarating. I had never felt so alive.

Before she lost consciousness, I pulled the blade out and took a step back. This was the first time I had seen so much blood, and I was surprised by the sudden nausea that swept over me. I managed to regain my composure, then watched as the life drained from her, 

and the last spark of life faded from her eyes.

I learned a lot during that first kill, and over the years, I got faster and more efficient. My methods became more sophisticated and less dramatic. I had mastered the art of stealing people from their lives, and then extinguishing them.

Now here we are, ten years later, and I have killed so many more than I originally planned. I had become so good at leaving no evidence that in their desperation to solve the murders, the cops had actually convicted and even executed others for my kills. 

Tonight was different though, and I knew it even before coming to this house. In fact, I had been trying to find an excuse to stop doing it. It actually started to feel…wrong. Maybe I was just tired. The thrill that I found in it for so long had faded. But I would have to think about that later, I was here now and resigned myself to going through the motions. 

After sneaking into the home, I decided that maybe I would finish this and then be done with this life. As I was waiting for my opportunity, though, my stomach started to churn and cramp, and I realized to my dismay that a whole different type of emergency was about to unfold. I knew that drive-thru burrito on the way over was a bad idea. There was no way I was going to be able to hold it, so I stupidly made my way to their downstairs restroom.

Sitting there in that bathroom, I started to think about my situation. Then it hit me, the realization that taking a life was really nothing more than stealing from the  people I killed. I had never considered myself to be a thief. The thought was revolting. 

This realization was so powerful, that in that moment, I decided to change my life for the better. That I needed to somehow make up for the wrongs I have done over the many years. I have stolen from so many. I thought maybe a donation to a local charity might set things right, or maybe volunteering at an animal shelter? 

Suddenly there was a bang on the door, “Who is in there?”

Startled, I jumped up. I flushed and then poured bleach all over the toilet in a now habitual attempt to leave no evidence. I opened the door, and stood face to face with a woman. Suddenly, I realized I forgot to put my mask back on, meaning she saw my face. “Damn it!” I said.  She turned and ran.

“I am trying to be a good person! Look what you’re going to make me do!”. I started after her and slipped on the tile floor. Cursing again, I jumped up to chase after her. She just about made it to the stairs, when I finally caught up and plunged a knife into her back.

I won’t bore you with the details of everything that happened after that, but suffice it to say, she did not go down easily. 

And now I am face to face with the husband, his wife on the floor, “This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go!” I said quickly.

“You killed her!” he yelled.

“Maybe not!” I tried to explain, “Besides…it was an accident!” 

“She has five knives in her!” he cried out. 

“She could probably get better!” I snapped. 

Pulling his phone from his robe, he started dialing, “What are you doing?” I screamed. 

“You said she could live!” he wailed. 

“I said probably, and that wasn’t permission to call anyone!” I raced forward and plunged the long kitchen knife in his chest. 

I saw the shock on his face as I took the phone from him, putting it to my ear, “Hi! I’m very sorry. My kid was playing on the phone, and called by accident. No emergency here!” Then I hung up the phone. 

Hope bled from his face, and I held a finger up, as the phone rang. I answered, “Hello? Yeah, that's right. I am really sorry for that, it was an accident. My kid was playing with the phone. Yes, I am sure there is no emergency. Thank you so much for checking up on us.” I said and then hung up the phone. 

Finally, he grew too weak to stand and fell back against the wall, sliding down to the floor. “I really am sorry about all of this.” I gestured to his wife and his chest, “I really didn’t want any of this to happen. You see, while I was using your toilet, I realized that what I have been doing is wrong, so I decided to become better!”

“Why?” He asked through labored breathing. 

I snorted. “Because I am no thief!”