Here is an excerpt of a serial killer novel I was writing. This excerpt is in the point of view of the killer, The Gravedigger/Kylan Dussel. Please forgive the spelling and grammar mistakes as this IS an UNEDITED FIRST DRAFT. Thank you!
I may go back to writing this one day. Read it and tell me what you think!
Tiffany was now dead. That made nine women who he had killed for their sin. The girl had not confessed of what she had done two months ago. Kylan had no choice to kill her. He had tied her to a chair in the woods far away from where he had buried her, and as she sat in that chair, he had given her those three chances he had always given his victims. Too bad she didn’t confess. She was quite a beautiful thing and he hated when beauty was wasted.
The FBI would think that his leaving of his footprints was a mistake, but it wasn’t. Everything he did was on purose and not an accident; they had yet to realize that. Anyways, the footprints would only take them so far.
Kylan took a seat in a booth of the family restaurant. He couldn’t see why people called it a “family” restaurant due to the lack of families present. Most of the diners here were groups of men and women out for their lunch break. After they finished their fettuchini alfredo, steaks or ribs, it would be back to work for them. For Kylan, it would mean another series of stalking. He had already picked his target.
A waitress arrived at his table and took his order. She was wearing a skirt a little too short for herself. Kylan was disgusted. Woman should never wear something as repulsive as a short skirt. It drew too much attention from men. Wanted and unwanted attention. Maybe he should teach her a thing or two about modesty. The thought was most pleasing.
“What would you like today?”
“I’ll have your delicious chicken wrap with a side of French fries,” he replied. He then added a “please” to seem charming. Her smile told him that it worked. He caught glimpse of her nametag. Christy.
“Coming right up,” she said as she scribbled his order on her pad of paper.
“Thank you, Christy.” He smiled, she smiled, and then she went away. Kylan looked at her as she walked and scowled. The skirt was not only unmodest… It was H-I-D-E-O-U-S. He took a long sip of his large glass of Coke and kept the liquid in his mouth letting the fizz tickle his tastebuds. He swallowed and then repeated the process.
Christy came back five minutes later with a plate containing the chicken wrap he had orderd and French fires. There were so many fries that someone could have mistaken that he wanted the chicken wrap as the side.
He picked up the ketchup bottle that sat at the back end of the table and looked at the label. Heinz: the only kind he woud eat. And non-refrigerated to top it off. He was in heaven. Kylan screwed the lid of and doused his fries in the red, saucey goodness. The color of blood. He picked up a fry out of the large pile and made sure it had just enough ketchup on it. He popped it into his mouth when it was exactly to perfection. Some would say that he was too much of a perfectionist, but he didn’t care what they all thunk. Being a perfectionist was a good trait; that was why he had never used a gun on his victims. It could never be too precise or perfect. And guns did their job way too quick. Bang, bang, bang… You’re dead. A plastic bag… well… he didn’t have to worry about that. They did their job all the same: quickly; and were good at it.
Kylan finsihed his food after ten minutes and Christy brought over his bill and layed it on the table, facedown. “Thank you, Christy. You are wonderful.” He winked at her and she smiled then slowly walked away, skirt swaying as much as it was allowed. He got up from the booth, took out his wallet and fished out a ten dollar bill. He laid it on the table and strode over to the cash register. Christy stood there, all smiles. Kyan paid her and left.
Yes. He would have to teach the girl a lesson or two. The victim he had chosen a few hours ago could wait to die.
Kylan Dussel sat outside of the restaurant on the bench next to a trash can, waiting for Christy to come out. It had been three hours since he had left the restaurant with the girl smiling after him. It was the first time he would kill someone other than avenging Jenny. It was time to take an exit of the highway of vengence onto the road of teaching. He would teach Christy to dress modestly and still attract men. Too bad she wasn’t going to be able to put it into practice. But then maybe she would. it all depended on Kylan’s mood and how well the girl listened to him.
He got up from his seat and made his way to his 1500 that sat next to a parking meter. Kylan looked at the meter and saw that his time was about up. He reached into his pocket and grabbed a handful of change. He sorted through the pile and put two quarters and five dimes in it. That would give him plenty of time to do his job. He unlocked his car, opened the passenger side door and leaned in. Kylan reached under the seat and grabbed the case that he kept there just in case the time came that he needed it. He needed it now. If he wasn’t going to kill Christy, the girl needed some sort of reminder of what he was about to teach her. He unlocked the case and opened it. His .22 sat in its foam casing with its ammunition and silencer, waiting to be used. This would be the first time he had ever fired a bullet in his whole life outside of a shooting range.
The cold steel of the handle felt unnatural when he picked up, but it would grow on him. After screwing on the silencer, Kylan loaded the weapon and stuck it in his belt and covered it with the hoodie he was wearing. He walked to the back of the truck and grabbed a pack of zip ties and a roll of duct tape. Once he got Christy where he wanted, he would bind her and then lessons would begin. Before that happened, he needed to get some clothes for her and for him. He wouldn’t let her go out in public again wearing what she was in that restaurant and he was growing very uncomfortable in his outfit.
Kyaln looked in his wallet and found that he had two hundred dollars. One handsome outfit for him; one sexy, and above all, modest, outfit for her. He searched the streets for a store where he could find for what he was looking for and saw an American Eagle on the corner among other stores and restaurants. He went inside and bought a pair of jeans for Christy and for him. He also bought a white tanktop and a black shrug for her and an expensive button up shirt for him after that.
He went back to the bench he was sitting on twenty minutes ago. Christy came out a moment later in all her whore glory. Kylan got up and followed her as she walked down the street. To where, he did not know. He started to walk quickly and caught up to her right after she crossed a street. Kylan put on his best plastic smile and said, “Hey.” A usual conversation starter. The girl seemed startled but quickly regained control of herself.
“Hi,” she said, smiling. Kylan could see that she was a little bit nervous. He didn’t blame her, He was the kind of person that made people be nervous to be around. Sometimes it was an advantage; other times not so much.
“Where you going?” He tried to be as charming as his real being would allow.
“Home to get some sleep,” she replied. “Long day, you know?”
Kylan nodded his head slowly in mock understanding. “Do you have a car?”
She shook her head. “No. Still saving up for one.” Perfect.
“Tell you what? Let me take you home since you would have to walk.” He could not see how she would refuse. Except for him being a stranger, of course, but Kylan did not think that would be a problem. Christy seemed enamored with him.
“Sure. That would be amazing. Thanks.” Kylan wanted to laugh and slap her across the face. Why was she so submissive to going places with strangers? Hadn’t her mom and dad taught her about not talking to strangers? Wasn’t that the number one rule for when you were a child? It had been for Kylan and he had always followed it.
He guided her to his car and opened the door for her. She was still smiling. Kylan walked around the front of the truck and got in the driver’s seat. “Where am I going?” he said, looking at her.
She looked at him from head to toe and back again as she spoke. “Drake Street. It’s a twenty minute walk from here. Maybe a five minute drive.” Two minutes into the ride, with Christy directing him, Kylan spoke.
“What kind of car are you planning on getting?”
“Nice car.” He looked over at her. She was still looking at him. Get your eyes off me. You’re making me sick. I hate you. No decency at all. He quickly shifted his gaze back to the road. “What color?”
“Good choice there also.”
“Thanks. Take a right now.” Kylan did as she said and drove down a street that he assumed to be hers. It was full of small ranch houses, each one almost identical to the one next to it. They almost reached the end of the street when Christy pointed to the left to a house. Kylan pulled into the driveway. No cars were around, indicating that her parents weren’t home.
“Hey, thanks for taking me home,” Christy said as she unbuckled her seatbelt.
“No problem. Anytime.” He watched her as she opened the door and got out.
She started to shut the door, but instead, she leaned and and said, “My parents aren’t home.” She paused for a few seconds and smiled slyly. “Want to come in?”
The girl was more stupid than he had expected. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into. Kylan had wanted everything to be more hard for him, but there was no way he was going to pass this opportunity. Easy access for a mouse to get cheese. He was the mouse and she was, of course, the cheese. “Sure.” He got out of the truck and made sure he had everything he needed. He picked up the shopping bags then closed the door with a loud thud.
Kylan followed Christy to the front door of the house, watching her intently. She fished out her keys out of her brown leather purse. Kylan glanced inside it and from what he could see what was in it, he wouldn’t be surprised if the thing weighed twenty pounds or more.
Christy pushed the door open then went inside and Kylan followed. Chrsty’s keys were still in the door so Kylan took them out when he walked in and gave them to Christy who had opened a stainless steel fridge in the kitchen and took out a Coke. “Want one…” She stopped talking and looked at him through squinted eyes. “What was your name again?” Kylan had forgotten that he had not mentioned who he was yet. Smart move, idiot.
“Freddy. Freddy Phillips,” Kylan said as he sat the two bags he was holding down next to the door and a pile of shoes.
“Oh. Okay. I’m sorry, I just totally blanked out.”
He smiled a plastic smile and said, “It’s fine. I’m okay, though. Thanks.” Kylan looked around the house and inspeted every detail of it as he had made a habit of doing his whole time as a criminal, as the the world would call him. He was not the criminal. His victims were. It was larger than it looked from the outside. The ceiling was high and the rooms were large and opened up to each other. The primary colors of the place were a dark blue and black. Modern art hung on the walls, above black, cloth couches. The whole thing was very geometric. If Christy’s family was going for a modern look, they had definitely accomplished it. Kylan pulled himself out of his thoughts of the house. This was not Home and Garden Television. It was about time he did what he had come in here for. The whole paln was simple, really. Comein, teach the girl a lesson or two, then get out.
Christy came around the counter and set her can of pop on the counter. She came up to him and put her hand on his chest and ran her other hand through his hair. Let her do it, he told himself. Just so she feels comfortable and is unprepared. Christy stood on her tip toes and brought her lips to his. Kylan let her go for five seconds. That was all her could bear… maybe a little more than that. He snatched the gun out from under his shirt and pressed it against her ribs. Christy stopped kissing him and looked down. She gasped and tried to pull away, but Kylan had his arm wrapped around her waist. He grinned and said, “Surprise.” Haley tried to say something, but Kylan interuppted her before she could a full word out. “Don’t speak, scream or even whisper because I will put a bullet in you. Understand?” She swallowed yet said nothing. Kylan pushed her away from him. “Sit on the couch. Now.”
She spoke as she did as he told her. “Why… why are you doing this?” she stammered, almost on the verge of tears.
Kylan walked over to the door, gun aimed at the back of Haley’s head. He picked up the bags he had set there and pressed the gun to the back of the girls head after he had come up behind her. “Because you make me sick,” he replied. “Really. Really. Really. Sick.” Kylan dropped the bag containing the clothes he had bought for her on her lap. “Have a look.” He walked around the couch and sat in a chair that sat across from it on the oppostite side of a glass coffee table, stjeansill aiming his gun at her, now at her chest. Chrsity didn’t move, but only sat there, staring at him with wide eyes. Kylan expected her to say something, but she said nothing. “Take a look,” Kylan repeated. She did as she was told and reached into the bag. First, she took out the jeansa and then the tank top. She then removed the black shrug. Kylan had decided that the shrug was his favorite of the purchases he had made that day.
Christy looked at him. Her eyes were filled with tears and they radiated with fear and confusion. “What are these for?” she asked. Her voice was quivering.
Kylan laughed and said, “Have you seen what you’re wearing? It’s gross and makes me sick. I can’t believe that girls actually wear that kind of thing. What? Do you think that you will attract some hot guys if you wear what you are right now? That short skirt? Hmm?”
She didn’t answer, just stared.
“That was not a rhetorical question. I want you to answer me. Do you think that you will attract some hot guys if you wear what you are right now?”
Christy hesitated to make even the slightest sound, but she finally whispered, “Yes.” She looked down at her open palms. Shame radiated from her body, but Kylan knew it would most likely be temporary.
“Really? Let me tell you something, Chrsity. You will atttract some guys, but not all of them will be the ones that you are thinking of. I’m talking about rapists, child molseters, sex offenders and the like. Does that sound good to you?”
The girl didn’t answer him again. “Christy. Answer me. Now.” She didn’t say anything, but started to cry. Tears rolled down her cheeks and down her neck and down her shirt or wetting it. Anger swelled inside Kylan and pulsed through his veins. “Answer me!” Again, she didn’t. Kylan lowered his gun and pulled the trigger. A pfft sounded and Haley arched back in pain. The bullet tore into her leg and blood seaped out of the entrance wound, gushing down her legs and staining her white, low cut socks. Kyaln yelled again. “Answer me, you worthless piece of crap!” Spittle flew from his mouth and showered the glass table infront of him.
Sobbing, Haley managed to choke out a word. “No.” She grabbed a pillow from one side of the couch and pressed it against the hole in her leg. “Please don’t kill me,” she said as she looked up at him. Her tears kept coming. Every one that fell was quickly replaced by a new one and that one quickly fell also.
“Kill you? I still haven’t figured out if I am or not. I’m leaning towards not, but no one can really know what I intend on doing. Now, Chirsty,” he said, getting up from the chair and pacing. He still kept both the gun and his eyes trained on her. “I’ll tell you what I am trying to help you understand, alright? Your skirt is too short and it is hideous and it makes me sick. But I am not the only one affected by it, no. It will affect you and others as well. Men will be watching that skirt and be focusing on what is underneath that thing and try to get a peak at that, I am sure. They are a bunch of sickos and should be shot in the head. Of course it is human nature to be attracted to these kind of things, but I don’t think it’s good to be drawn to them. Some day, if you keep on dressing like you are right now, you will find yourself in a bad position. Men will come after you and violate you. I don’t want that to happen to you and I am sure you feel the same way as well. Now, I bought these clothes so you may change into something more modest and still attractive. A little gift from me to you.”
Christy tried to say something, but before she could, the sound of a car door being shut came from outside. Kylan looked out the window and saw a man and a woman walking up the driveway, glancing at his car. He turned to Christy and aimed the gun at her forehead. “Change of plans.” He unloaded a round into the girls head and she fell over sideways, slumped on the couch. The hole in her forehead began to smoke. Kylan ran into the kitchen and hid behind the island in the middle of the room, waiting.
The door opened and the man and woman stepped inside. “Christy?” the woman called. Kylan assumed that they were her parents. “Christy?” Kylan heard the woman’s heels clacking against the black tile as she walked. Suddenly, there was a pause, which was then quickly followed by a piercing scream. “Christy!” the woman screamed and screamed. Kylan made his move then. He stood up from behind the counter and raised his gun. He first put a hole in the man’s head and then one in the woman’s heart before any of them could speak.
Kylan looked at the bodies of the family he had just killed. It was all a mess, but the job was done. Everything didn’t go quite according to plan, but that was life. You may plan on something and be sure that plan was going to happen, but there was always a chance that it would change.
He walked over to Christy’s dead body and looked down on it. No one would ever see her pretty face again. Too bad.