An unusual pastime

If you can believe it, I almost let one get away once. It had been a while since I'd raped and murdered that young Christian mother, and that one had provided me with months of joyful memories. I'd learned the husband, who'd never gotten over the trauma of finding his beloved young wife where I'd left her, had taken his own life after the funeral, leaving yet another little kid to grow up as an orphan on my account. I was having quite an impact on the world by now, I reflected, there were people who would feel the consequences of my actions long after I'd died. I liked how mighty that made me feel.

Well, after growing bored of going over the same murder again and again, I became restless and knew I wanted to kill someone again fairly soon. The last two times I'd snuck into someone's home, and I was kind of missing the rush I'd felt grabbing someone out in the open. At the same time, I'd taken a huge risk, and I was wondering how to manage it this time.

I finally decided I'd kidnap somebody in a parking lot, have her drive us to some remote spot, and have a little murderous fun there. So the next couple of weeks were spent scouting out parking lots, weighing surveillance and ease of access against probability of a nice young hottie turning up when I needed her to. I decided very early on that only at night, I felt safe enough to try anything.

It took me quite a while, as I didn't want any scared little girl feeling stalked and avoid the place or even arm up with pepper spray or guns (though both of which could make excellent toys if captured along with her). So I came by different spots at an irregular, and usually with a seemingly valid reason, such as a non-existent doctor's appointment, or late night grocery shopping. Despite the difficulty, I managed to make out some potential targets and their routines.

The one I ultimately settled on was a bank teller who was in the reckless habit of parking her car at a secluded lot several blocks away, and do some shopping at different corner stores she passed by on her way back there after she'd gotten off work. She wore her light brown hair in a stern ponytail that accentuated her tastefully made up facial features, her delicate nose, high cheekbones and carefully plucked, thin eyebrows. I'd used their indoor ATM a couple of times, just to catch a glimpse of her beautiful face, as she smiled with ostensively genuine goodwill at a customer she was advising. Several other times, I'd found occasion to be sitting in a snack bar facing the street, just to watch her walk by in her pant suit.

The night I'd set for the ambush, I went straight to the parking lot, finding her car—a small black sedan—and parking my own car so I had a straight shot to her driver side door. Climbing into my passenger side seat, I waited, keeping a watchful eye in the direction I expected her to be coming from.

When I saw her approaching, I slid back into the seat, hoping she'd see an empty car, just barely still able to observe her as she made a straight beeline for her vehicle. I readied my knife I was going to threaten her with. I hadn't decided yet how I was going to kill her once I got her alone and out of help's reach, but it was very likely the knife would be involved. I waited for her to unlock the doors and start to get in.

When I heard the 'click' of the door being unlocked, and a glance confirmed she was getting in, I slammed my passenger side door open, bolted across the parking spot in between us, and landed on top of her, knocking her inside her car face-first. The plan had been to hold the knife to her throat and hold a hand over her mouth to keep her silent, but I'd dropped the knife in the rush! The split second it took me to register that was the time she needed to realize she was under attack, and her reaction surprised me. I would have made her for a shy, submissive girl, but in fact, she started fighting back the second she got her bearings.

She struggled and kicked and punched and bit at me as she tried to wriggle from underneath me and get away. In the meantime, I'd located my knife on the floor of her car, but bending forward to pick it up took just enough of my leverage away to allow her to get one leg free. As the momentum turned in her favor, I reflexively extended my arms to catch her, and with the force of adrenalin behind it, the knife in my hand sliced deep through her left shoulder, only sparing bone in it's path. With muscles and tendons cut up, her left arm became useless to her, and she was bleeding heavily from the cut. Damn, I didn't want her to bleed out just yet!

I'm sure she registered the pain of the crippling blow to her shoulder, but she, too, was pumped full of adrenaline by now, and she made use of it to try and run. Unfortunately, she also tried to grab her cell phone out of her purse at the same time, probably to call 911, and with one arm limp, she lost her balance, and the cell phone went flying across the parking lot, splintering into multiple parts as it landed on the concrete.

With raised knife, I rushed toward where she'd fallen, to try to stab her to death, if that's what had to happen after all. Being in survivor mode, the chick zeroed in on the knife in my hand, kicking and punching and grabbing at it, getting cuts acoss her hands, legs, and arms that would have been debilitating if not for the adrenaline. Finally, she managed to kick the knife out of my hands, and it slithered across the lot right underneath some car. Great, so much for that.

While the fight wasn't over by a long shot, it was clear who'd won already: despite her valliant effort, she'd already taken some injuries that gave me the clear advantage in a hand-to-hand fight. But I didn't want to let it come down to that if I could help it, because I understood the potential for being seriously hurt myself as well in a “fair” fight. Instead, I remembered she'd dropped her keys right beside her car door when I'd first rushed her, and looking back, sure enough, there was her keyring.

I smiled, picked them up, and got in her car, turning on the ignition. I could see her get up, but she was half crawling, half limping. She had apparently torn an achilles tendon in kicking at my knife. I had more than enough time to put her car into first gear, and roll up behind her. If ever there was a situation that was best described by the phrase “deer in the headlight”, it was now: the horrified look on her face was priceless when she turned around to see the bright lights of her own car and realized what was going to happen.

I pushed all the way down on the gas pedal and hit her square in the hip, as she was futilely attempting to get out of the way. I heard a deep 'thump', followed by the windshield cracking as the pretty young bank teller was hurled across the hood of her own car, flying over its roof for almost ten feet before landing on her side and sliding an additional foot across the concrete floor, tearing open the whole side of her face into one huge albeit shallow scratch wound.

Looking in the rearview mirror, I could see she was squirming about, but there was no getting up: her pelvis was shattered, and her legs twisted away from her body at unnatural angles. I put the car in reverse gear, and slowly rolled back. It felt like hitting a speed bump when I rolled over her with the rear, then the front wheels.

I got out of the car to examine the damage I'd caused. She was still alive, but dying. In rolling over her, I'd crushed her legs, and, fascinatingly, her stomach and internal organs. I'd crunched several of her ribs, and just missed her heart by a little bit. There was a fountain of bubbly blood out of her mouth, and her torso from the ribs downward was almost flat with the bloody imprint of tires.

I crouched by the young teller's face, petting her head, combing back strands of her beautiful hair that had torn free in the violence and were lying all across her face, in her eyes, around her mouth, everywhere. With the other hand I held hers. I spent several minutes beside her, watching her breathing and spasming grow ever weaker, as her eyes flitted around dazed and confused, until she'd taken her last breath, and I could feel the last weak pulse go through her wrist.

Then I got into my car and drove off, before anyone could alert the police and emergency services that, I knew, would arrive much too late.