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Married To a Serial Killer

Married To a Serial Killer

By Cookies

The girl's choked scream gave me a sense of satisfaction as I tightened my grip on her neck. She flailed wildly, but it was no use. My iron grip blocked her airways and I could see her face turning a pretty shade of purple. I smiled. This was always my favourite part—when I can feel the life leaving her body by my own two hands. Then she went still. The job was done. I shoved her body into my camo-sack and hoisted her onto my shoulder. In the dead of the night, there were no witnesses. I quietly carried her to my car and threw her into the back seat, then climbed into the front seat and started the vehicle.

I drove to the lake and did not pass a single car on the way. I stopped at the edge of the lake and gathered the sack filled with body in my arms. I shucked her out of my sack and onto the dewey ground. I stared at her, mesmerised by the fact that I had ended her life. But that feeling quickly passed, just like it had with the other girls. I touched her cheek gently, as if I had once cared about her. My fingers curled around her golden locks of hair. I whipped out my scissors from my back pocket and chopped off a few of those gorgeous hairs. It's always something I've done, a way to commemorate the girl I killed. Then without further adue, I picked her lifeless body up and chucked her into the fridged waters of the lake. Almost immediately, she began to sink.

Feeling as though I've completed my misson, I hopped back in the car. I drove back to my home, where only one light was still on. I cautiously opened the door and tiptoed down the hallway. I went into my son's room first. Andrew was sleeping soundly, clutching his stuffed bear. My six-year-old son still had nightmares, but they were less frequent when he had his bear. I bent and kissed his forehead. He didn't even stir. I quietly left his room and started for Samantha's. Samantha was nine years old and no longer needed a stuffed animal to sleep. She just perferred to have one with her. Just as I had to Andrew, I bent and kissed her forehead. Then I backed out of her room and soundlessly entered my room.

"Where have you been, Joey?" My wife, Leann, asked in a hushed voice.

I looked at her. Her blonde hair was messily surrounding her tired looking face. Bags under her eyes indicated that she'd been waiting up for me.

"Sorry, Annie, but my boss needed me to file a few things," I lied coolly.

She smiled weakly. "Can't you tell him you have a family you need to spend some time with?"

I faked a smile back. "He said I wouldn't need to work late for a least the rest of the week."

She sighed. "Well, then I guess that's good. Now come to bed." She patted the bed beside her, inviting me to join her.

I hurriedly undressed and got into my pajamas and jumped into the warm bed with my gorgeous wife.

"I miss you when you're working," she mumbled into my ear.

When she kissed me, I believably acted like I was enjoying it, but really, I was still reliving my latest kill.

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About The Author
Cookies
Cookies
About This Story
Audience:
PG
Posted:
15 Jul, 2011
Genre:
Horror
Type:
Scary
Words:
570
Favorites:
0
Views:
3,273

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