11. Hargrave
Iset my empty beer glass on the counter and turned to the bartender, in this nearly empty, run-down bar, asking him to crank up the volume on the television. The establishment sat right on the lake, a perfect setting facing the location where the gruesome murder occurred. The dim lighting cast long shadows over the worn wooden floorboards, concealing the few patrons that were scattered within its tired walls. The air hung heavy with the scent of stale beer, piss, and cigarette smoke, while the jukebox in the corner crackled with static, playing nostalgic rock tunes.
Outside, the night was bleak and chilly, with a faint mist swirling around the dim streetlights. In the distance, the murky waters of the lake reflected the pale glow of the moon, adding an eerie touch to the scene that was unfolding on the television set. The news was on, and my masterpiece was lying beneath a black tarp by the lake’s edge, where I”d left her only a few hours ago. The news anchor”s voice crackled over the television, describing the scene by the lake in a somber tone.
”Good evening. We bring you breaking news tonight as authorities have discovered a grisly scene by the lake just outside of town. Police are currently investigating what appears to be a homicide. Details are scarce at the moment, but sources indicate that the body belongs to that of a thirty-five-year-old Caucasian female. We are told her name is Lucy Whitfield. A native from the Los Angeles area and a nurse at the nearby hospital. She leaves behind her two children and grieving husband. Our thoughts are with the victim”s family as law enforcement works diligently to unravel the mystery surrounding this tragic event. Stay tuned for updates as this story develops.”
I focus as the camera pans to reveal a secluded spot by the water, where police tape sections off the area. Flashing blue and red lights paint an unsettling glow across the lake. Investigators comb through the underbrush, their flashlights cutting through the darkness, desperately searching for clues. In the distance, the silhouette of a body lies beneath a black covering, a single reminder of the violence I had just committed.
As the camera zooms in, viewers can catch a glimpse of the lake”s murky waters, their surface disturbed by ripples from the gentle breeze. It”s a haunting backdrop to the tragic ending, hinting at the secrets hidden beneath the surface. Secrets only myself and Lee Berwick had any knowledge of.
I finished off another pint of beer and wandered into the bathroom. As I went to unzip my pants I noticed the dried blood on the curve of my shoes. As I released the piss, I slid my head back, staring at the fluorescent lights as I recalled the events of the previous hours.
For several restless nights, I had been meticulous in tracking her every move. I took my time each evening, observing and studying the intricacies of her daily routine, piecing together the puzzle of her life one fragment of a piece at a time.
Tonight, the moon hung low in the ink-black sky, making it hard for me to hide from view as I began trailing her through the dimly lit streets. The flickering lamp posts cast haunting shadows on the cement, almost matching in tandem with her hurried footsteps. I watched as she scurried across the street, looking over her shoulder as the darkness amplified that sense of foreboding that now hung heavy in the air.
As she finally reached that solitary car parked at the edge of the deserted lot, I felt a surge of anticipation course through my veins. This was it. The moment I’d been waiting for all these years. I just wanted an opportunity to confront her, to explain all these emotions that had been festering within me for far too long.
Approaching her vehicle with cautious steps, I watched as she fumbled with her keys, the soft click of the lock echoing in the stillness of the night. In the dim glow of the streetlights, her features were illuminated in fleeting glimpses, each one a tantalizing reminder of the woman I once knew.
She looked at me in shock as I spoke her name. I told her I wasn’t there to hurt her, but she barely gave me a chance to speak, to express the hurt and betrayal that had consumed me in her absence. And when she didn”t cooperate and apologize like I was expecting her to, things escalated quite quickly.
In a flash of anger, I reached out and seized her by the arm, my grip firm but trembling with a mixture of fear and resolve. She recoiled at my touch, her eyes flashing with a defiant hatred that only stoked my anger. With a swift and decisive motion, I pulled her from the safety of her car, stumbling toward the desolate shores of the nearby lake.
She struggled against me, cursing and fighting me every step of the way. But I was relentless, driven by a desperate need to make myself heard. With each step we took, the distance between us and the safety she knew grew, and her resistance began to wane, and she began to beg.
I stood staring down at the water’s edge, remembering that ripple across the lake. I looked back at her, now pleading with me not to hurt her. And I could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me like a leaden shroud. With a heavy heart and trembling hands, I delivered a single blow to her temple, the dull thud reverberating through the stillness of the night.
As she crumpled to the ground, I felt a pang of remorse clawing at the edges of my conscience. But in the end, it was too late for regrets. The die had been cast, and her fate was sealed in that moment of darkness.
I never thought I could feel so much pleasure while I relished in her tears as I raped her dirty cunt beneath the moonlight. With every thrust I reminded her how it was her fault we had gotten to this point. I was certain she loved every second of our lovemaking, squealing for me as I fucked my load into her.
But it wasn”t until after I was done, and she was just lying there, completely sated, that I suddenly had this urge to end it all.
Crouching over her, I gripped her throat attempting to strangle her. but the bitch turned out to be stronger than I thought. Or maybe she’d gone into fight or flight mode and the adrenaline that coursed through her, kicked into me.
I flushed the toilet and went over to the sink to wash my hands. As I pulled up my sleeves, I noticed the scratch marks she”d left on my arms. As I let the water run over my hands, I closed my eyes remembering the sweet burn her nails left on me as she marked my flesh. Just a sweet reminder of her love, carved into me.
After drying my hands beneath the hot dryer, I straightened my collar and stepped back out into the bar. I cast a fleeting glance towards the television mounted on the far wall and couldn’t help but smile as the familiar image of my face flashed across the screen, accompanied by a barrage of urgent news updates. In that moment, time seemed to slow to a crawl, and I suddenly felt the weight of the people’s gazes, whispers emerging around me.
Grateful for the dim lighting that cloaked me in shadows, I made a beeline for the nearest exit, my senses on high alert. As much as I was honored by the attention i was getting, I wasn’t done yet with what I had set out to do. And until then, I couldn’t afford getting caught.
As I stepped out into the cool night air, I scanned the dimly lit parking lot. There, nestled amongst the rows of cars, I spotted my ticket to freedom – a sleek black sedan. With practiced ease, I approached the vehicle. Years of incarceration had honed my instincts to a razor”s edge. Within a few minutes I was sliding into the driver’s seat and firing up the engine. A sense of grim determination settled over me as I disappeared down the road. With every mile that slipped away beneath the wheels of the stolen car, I felt a glimmer of hope guiding me towards my next kill.
Turning on the radio, an old song blasted through the speakers as I remembered the last few moments I’d spent with my Lucy. I”d practiced my moves on pillows, and then finally got get my hands on a few willing victims that I’d taken to practice on.
It was gruesome at first, not knowing what to expect. Each woman struggled and fought differently, which made it a well-rounded learning experience. So, by the time I got to Lucy, I was able to use all the skills I’d perfected, on her. But killing her was sweeter, more pure, more intimate. How easy it was to dig into her first artery, the main one that ran along her thigh. I remember how smoothly the blade had slid into her lung, right beneath her ribcage. But it wasn”t until I”d sunk it into the side of her throat and kissed her, right as she gave her last breath, that I found myself to be completely satisfied.
I”d left her lying there, naked and on display for them to take pictures of my beautiful art. And then I”d walked back to the bar to make the anonymous call to the police. With a sweet little message to an old friend. A whisper of my presence in his darkest hour.
I laughed as the signs pointing south appeared along the roadside. The laughter becoming maniacal as I sped the car down the dark road. I knew where he”d gone to and who he was with. A pretty little thing too. I remembered as the employees at The Raven Inn spoke so highly of her. Told me how smart and special she was, how proud her parents were of her. She was everything he had taken from me, and I was going to strip him again and again of it all, until I’d push him to take his own fucking life. And then, right when he’s about to pull the trigger, I’d be there for that moment too. Joining him in his release.