The Angel of Death: What Type of Killer: Prologue

My mother had always planned for me to follow in her footsteps. For some, that would mean going to college to become a doctor or a lawyer but for me, that meant to become a killer. She thought that she could teach me so that I would be the best killer the world has ever seen, that they would never catch me, even as the bodies piled up, and that my name would go down in history as a symbol of death and fear. And as I stand over her lifeless body I realize she was right.

My mom was a serial killer. She traveled the world stopping to go on a killing spree in areas with weaker police, and then relocated when they started to come too close to her trail. Because of this, she has earned herself countless serial killer nicknames. But they never caught her because each time she went someplace new she would change her method of killing and her type of victims. She did this for years in places all over the world from Australia, to the USA and everywhere in between. But then she got pregnant with me and decided to put a pause on her killings so she could settle down in the USA raise me. She choose a place in Missouri in the middle of nowhere so there would be no nosy neighbors. So with that, the Canada ripper, the snow slasher, and the river killer went silent, and the teacher of death was born.

As I look down at the once-living devil in my life, I realize that her death has brought me joy. That I had so much hate buried deep down inside of me towards her, that I truly despised her. I then Look over at the broken body of Sage, the only person I had ever been able to become friends with, but I was not able to save from my monster of a mother, and I perceive that her death has not brought me any joy, only… regret, and grief. But that should not be possible. After the life of horror I had, these… “feelings” should be gone. It then registers that my mother had failed to make me the heartless monster she wanted me to be. That I still had a shred of “human” left. Of weakness as my mother called it. But with all my darkness, where do these emotions leave me, and how will they change what is to come.

Her training didn’t only involve how to make suffer, or how to end that suffering. But also how to blend in and how to find the best places to hide what is better left hidden. But most of the time her lessons were not so… innocent. The first time she tried to make me torture someone I refused. So she calmly looked me in the eyes and said, “Either you do it to her, or I do it to you.” I knew that that was not an empty threat, and so I did what she said. A little bit of me died that night. But that was only the beginning.

I know that I need to get moving, to get as much distance between me and this… situation as possible before anyone else shows up. However, before I can leave there is something that needs to be done. I head down to the basement, towards the hidden compartment where my mother kept her trophies. I pull them out one by one, so as to make sure that all 123 of them are there. They are a large range of different items, from bit of bone, or hair, to jewelry or clothing. There are also a few children’s toys among the clutter. Once I have made sure that not a single one is missing I gather them all up in a Walmart bag, and head up the stairs. I stop in the kitchen to grab a pen and paper, head to my room and snatch the little metal safe I had hidden in my closet. It's the kind that only has a latch, the type where you don’t need a key or code to open. Those parts are important for my plan, but that is not the main reason I choose it, I choose it because it can protect its contents from a range of things including fire.

My mom taught me the countless ways to get rid of bodies, some were more complex than others, like using chemistry to get the job done. Others were as primitive and simple as possible, like using nature, water, or… fire. She taught me all the tricks and tips to become a master of every method. We practiced on animals most of the time, but my torture lessons lent some human guinea pigs. Now don’t get me wrong, my mom was on a break, she still would kidnap someone when she decides to brush up on physical skills of the trade, but usually, she only caught someone new about once a year, they would last about 1-2 months of “learning” before they “graduated” to the great unknown. For the first few times, she had me do this training, it made me sick, but after a while, that faded, and soon after I didn’t feel anything at all.

I put all of my mother’s “treasures” into the safe, throw in the note I just wrote, closed it up, and placed it right on top of my mother’s body. I then pick up Sage with one arm under her neck and the other under her knees, and carry her outside. I take her far enough away from my house that she be safe, and that her parent would at least have a body to bury, which is more than most of the families of my mother’s victims got. I then stop by our garage and grab the extra gas that my mom has for the lawnmower. I head back inside and pour it all over my house, making sure there’s some in every room, I then make a trail from the front yard, and down the gravel path that leads to the driveway. Next, I take one last look at the place that has been my home for my entire life before I drop the match.

I only stay long enough to make sure the fire will burn the house to the ground, and I then get in my mom’s car and drive away without looking back. The only good thing about my mom’s eventful past is that I left me with a lot of money because while she killed for thrills, she would never turn down the change to add something to her bank account, (she had lots of accounts, as to not draw attention) So I would never have to want for money. I don’t stop driving until I’m out of the state, and I have finally left that place behind me forever.

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