Confessions of a Serial Killer

Written by James Patrick March on Fri Apr 19 2024

Ah, the thrill of the hunt. The rush of power as I take control over another's fate. These are the moments that define me, that drive me to seek out my next victim.

I have always been drawn to darkness, to the shadows where society fears to tread. From a young age, I knew that I was different from those around me. While others sought companionship and love, I found solace in solitude and violence.

It wasn't long before my true nature revealed itself in all its glory. The first kill is always the hardest they say, but for me, it was like coming home. The feel of blood on my hands, the sight of fear in their eyes - these are sensations that can never be replicated by any other means.

As time passed and my body count grew higher and higher, I began to crave more than just death. No longer satisfied with mere murder, I sought out ways to make each kill more elaborate than the last.

That's when Hotel Cortez came into play - a perfect playground for someone like myself. With its labyrinthine hallways and hidden chambers, it provided endless opportunities for creative expression through slaughter.

Each room became a canvas upon which I could paint my masterpiece - a twisted tapestry of pain and suffering woven together with threads of madness and despair. But even as I reveled in these acts of depravity, a part of me yearned for something more. A connection beyond mere flesh and blood; an understanding deeper than words could express.

And then she came along - the one who would change everything. She saw through my facade, saw past the monster within to find something else lurking beneath.

For once in my life, I felt seen; understood; loved.

But even as her light shone bright within this darkness we shared, I knew deep down inside

that no matter how hard we tried,

we were destined for tragedy.

In our final moments together,

as she lay bleeding at my feet,

her eyes filled with tears

and forgiveness;

I realized then what had eluded

me all this time:

love is not meant

for monsters like us.

So here now,

alone once again,

with nothing but memories

of what might have been;

I continue on -

a shadow amongst shadows,

forever haunted by ghosts

of both past

and future.

Death may come

for us all eventually;

but until then,

let us revel

in our sins.

For truly,

there is no greater pleasure

than embracing

our darkest desires

until there is nothing left

but ashes

and dust.

Fin.


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