My Temple Ground

I remember what I thought when I first came here, pulling up and finding the dark spot like I am now. ‘This is the first and last time I’ll come here’, It was certainly my intention. I’ve never liked wooded areas, ones where they could host Halloween events at night and scare the living daylights out of you. Ha, speaking of living and daylights; I have been the only living soul to mount this land when I’m here and it’s never in daylight.

I came here after driving for hours in a panic, I had my ex-boyfriend in the boot and had no clue what to do with him. His death was a complete accident, but I guess the adrenaline and thrill from the kill clouded my judgment on coming forward or not.

Miles had only come round for his belongings, upset that I had ended things because I was starting to have feelings for someone else; I didn’t want to lead him on, and I didn’t want to kill him. We just had a spat on his way out and I pushed his shoulder harder than I thought, he fell down the stairs. I think he snapped his neck.

That was the first time I buried a body and got away with murder. The second was no accident. After feeling responsible for Milo’s death I felt weird, unsettled, amped up. I had this urge to kill for real, see what it would feel like to kill someone on purpose.

Three weeks after Milo, I found some drunk ass hole trailing the streets in the middle of god knows where; I decided to slit his throat, I had kept a knife on me in case the opportunity presented himself. I was thrilled it did. I felt the warm blood coat my dominant hand, I felt some splatter on my face and top. I kept my eyes on him, my second victim as he dropped his beer and moved his hands to his throat. I watched his hands get covered with his own blood before he dropped to the floor, his eyes losing the light of life.

I had my car boot prepared for the opportunity also, covered in plastic I could remove and with a bag with a change of clothes. I also had a shovel under the seats and out of sight. I couldn’t have anyone being suspicious if I was pulled over.

I buried that guy in the same wooded grounds, just at a different tree. I don’t know why but I wanted to know where he was buried, I remembered where Milo was after all. I buried my clothes and the plastic along with my second victim and filled up the grave in my underwear. After I returned to my car, I dressed and went home like nothing happened.

“Where have you been, baby?” I remember my boyfriend at the time ask me as I climbed into bed with a satisfied grin. “I played on the Xbox for a while because I couldn’t sleep.”

I found it amusing that not one person thought I could be capable of Milo’s disappearing. When I was interviewed, I claimed he was drunk when coming and going. I decided then and there if I were to kill, it was going to be drunk men. It would bring a pattern and the revelation that there was a serial kidnapper and possibly killer out there, Milo was just unfortunate enough to be a victim.

My second victim turned out to be a man named Victor Barbs. He was last seen at a wedding where he was so drunk he left a child there without him. I’m sure I’ll see him in hell. I remember a lot about Victor, what I read about him in the paper and online. I didn’t do it out of guilt, trying to find something to prove to me he was a bad guy, I did it for a sick sense of pride. Honestly? I got off on it. Any time I killed a guy; I pounced on whomever I was with at the time or have my private time.

I’m a sociopath I know. Everything I’m doing is wrong, so wrong I could imagine the devil asking for me to join him in his torturing; it’s my dream beyond death. I used to dream of being a train engineer, I wasn’t smart enough according to every adult in my childhood. Well, now I’m a woman who’s killed over two dozen men and has yet to be caught. I’m know as the man-napper, they can’t confirm the killings only that there’s a pattern. I have a hell of a lot of pride in my work.

So, why am I here for the last time? I’m saying goodbye. I’ve been killing for a decade now, and it’s only a matter of time until I’m figured out. Not now, but soon the police will have an idea. I want them to. I want them to know I beat them. I’ve spent the passed two years bringing my plan to motion. I’ve manipulated the perfect woman to fall in love with me.

Poor Meghan. She’s obsessed with me; she always does anything I want. All Meghan seems to want is me to be happy. Well, bringing up my phone and facetiming her makes me happy. I put on the perfect fake smile as she answered, oblivious to the fact that she’s at my second dumping ground, the one I moved to for when I decided to find the victim to take the blame. I said goodbye to that one yesterday. Today I’m saying bye to the most important one, my temple ground where I started.

Meghan asked where I was. She thinks we’re meeting up so we can run away together, away from her abusive ex-husband. Little does she know, he’s dead mere feet away from her. I couldn’t stop my sinister grin when I heard sirens in the background. I killed Meghan’s ex in a different way to the others, I left fake evidence to lead Meghan to her location, including the letters of her pleading to run away with me, an idea I planted in her head.

I didn’t have to point any signs to her for the other kills, plenty of bodies are not far from where she stands, and they’ll be found before her ex. I hung up and laughed as the police approached her, before heading to the airport in a stolen car. I’m planning on going to Spain first, just to send a post card to Meghan and the police. I’ve already got it planned. I’m sending this one to Meghan:

You poor girl, you truly were a fool. I hope that changes for you. Thank you though, you helped me stay free. Toodles, Meghan.

- From not actually your girl.

And here’s what I’m going to put for the police, those poor idiots; with them no one is safe:

I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. You are all such fools to go ten years without finding me, instead you all jumped at the chance at the woman so clearly framed. Man-napper to the perfect killer of men, now you know all those men truly were killed. I’ve had fun killing this past decade, and who knows? Maybe you’ll hear of me again, but I’m never coming back to the UK. I just want you to know I got you beat. Want proof I’m truly the person I say I am? There’s another wooded area of bodies, the map in on the back. Thanks for being such suckers.

Man-napper to perfect man killer.