As I stood in the shower, I replayed the scenario in my mind. I began to realize that I did not want to forget what had happened. My erection returned, and I masturbated properly, but it was not the same. Looking into her eyes as she took her last breaths was the real trigger for me. I knew that I wanted to have that feeling again. I finished up, got dressed and packed a few things into my pack. I went to my Mother’s room and searched to find anything of value that she might have stashed.
I looked in her drawer and found an envelope that appeared to be full of cash. I opened it and pulled out a four-inch thick stack of hundreds, fifties and twenties, along with a handwritten note dated one week earlier.
As I read the words on the paper, I felt the hot sting of impending tears. I shook my head and fought them back as I read the words written by my missing father.
“This ten thousand dollars is for the care of my boy, not for you to snort up or drink away. I can’t be there to be a proper daddy to that boy, but I can do my best to meet his needs," The letter read.
I quickly thumbed through the stack of bills, counting in my head. The total I came up with was just under eight thousand. I had not had a haircut or new socks for two years, but somehow she had already run through more than two thousand dollars. Thinking back, I should have known. She had sprung for the more expensive vodka and there were two extra jugs of it in the pantry.
The anger I felt welled inside of me like lava to fresh air. I pushed it back the best I could, but tears formed at the corners of my eyes. When I looked in the next drawer and found the sandwich bags full of pills and weed, I was unable to hold it any longer.
I took the drawer and pulled it from the dresser, throwing it against the far wall. As the pressed wood shattered and the bags of pills went flying, I completely lost the little bit of control I had left. I cannot remember exactly what happened next. All I can recall are snippets from the rest of that night.
I remember standing over the body of that hateful cunt. I remember kicking her until my leg was sore. I recall taking those two jugs of vodka and pouring the clear liquid all over her now mangled corpse. I remember striking a match.
I woke from a daze standing outside of the blazing house with a duffle bag in one hand, and car keys in the other. Apparently, I had the presence of mind to pack a few more things before starting the fire. Closer inspection revealed that I had also made sure I grabbed the money.
I felt nothing but calm as I watched the dancing flames. I realized that even though we did not live in town, the fire department would be here soon. The smoke would attract the attention of the busybody neighbors and they would call. I got in the car and sped towards my destination. Braverton, Ohio was only about ten hours from home. I would arrive the following afternoon.
On the drive there, I drank soda, ate beef jerky and corn chips. I sang along with the radio even though I didn't know all of the words. I felt so…free. For the first time in my life I had no one to answer to. I didn't need to worry about what my mother would do or say to me when I got home. I had no home. I had no mother. It was the best feeling I had ever had in my short but shitty life.
I was off to explore the world with nothing in my way. I had a tingling excitement growing in me as I thought about what might possibly be waiting for me in unit number ten.
Chapter 4
When I got to Braverton, just over the state line, I had already heard about the big fire on the radio. They suspected that both residents had not survived. No one was looking for the car because it was not registered or insured, so the police did not even know it existed. It seemed I was home free.
I walked into the office at U-Store It and saw the pretty little blonde girl sitting at a desk, reading a magazine, and popping her pink bubble gum. She barely looked up from her outdated issue of Cosmo when I approached her.
"Excuse me, Miss. I need to get to unit number ten, please," I said, as patiently as I could.
With an exaggerated sigh, she put her magazine down on the desk and lazily pointed her finger to a map on the wall.
"Well, first you want to go inside the complex, and then you look at the numbers on the units. When you see one that has a nine written on it, you're almost there," she said with a snotty smile.
"Well, alright then," I replied, trying my best to keep my composure and not tell her to stuff her bitchy attitude up her tight ass.
As I turned to leave, she called out to me.
"Hello? You have to sign to enter." If her eyes had rolled any harder she would have looked like she needed an exorcism.
I turned back around and did my best to smile at the uppity bitch as she laid a paper out on the desk. Bending down to sign, I saw a name printed at the top of the page. Dale Griswold. I scrawled out an illegible version of that man's name and put the pen back down on the desk.
"Is that all?" I asked, beginning to lose my patience.
"Yeah. Thanks for choosing U Store-it," she said with all of the enthusiasm of a person waiting to get a rectal exam or a root canal.
I left the office, thinking suddenly of grabbing her by the throat and choking the life out of her. I felt a bit of a stir inside of my jeans, but tried my hardest to will it away. Just as the snotty receptionist had told me, I found unit ten nestled right there between nine and eleven.
The unit looked small, just bigger than a closet, really. I knelt down to examine the combination lock as I pulled Dale's card from my back pocket. I turned the black dial on the silver lock right, then left, then back to the right, stopping at the correct numbers. I was a bit surprised when it clicked open on the first pull. My high school locker never opened on the first try like that.
"Must be my lucky day." I smiled to myself and pulled the lock out of the metal bracket. When I raised the orange roll up door, I had no idea what I was expecting to find, but it certainly was not what was actually there.
The unit was empty, except for a box no more than three feet high and three feet wide. I just stood staring at it for a minute, too scared to open it, and too scared not to.
When curiosity finally won the battle it was having with fear, I walked into the concrete room and lifted the cardboard flap on the top of the box, revealing its contents.
Inside of the box left for my father were several smaller boxes with a large brown notebook sitting on the top of them. I picked up the weathered notebook and read the title scrawled on the front in writing that matched the script on the back of the U-Store It business card.
The Whore File
I flipped it open to the first page and began to read the pages written in a very different hand. My father's hand, I assumed.
"Our mission is to rape and kill as many dirty, filthy whores as possible without getting caught. We will do this as a team. Neither one of us will ever act alone. If one of us is ever caught, we swear to never rat out the other. The captured man will claim full responsibility for every act committed."
I stopped reading, disgusted by the words written in the shabby book. Even more than that disgust, I felt excited. I couldn't wait to see what was in the rest of the box. The notebook would have to wait.
Each box I opened, one after the other, contained the same things, a lock of hair, a tube of lipstick, a pair of red panties and an ID card.
Sandy Simpson, Delia Barry, Cindy White, Lydia Cole, and so on and so on. There were nine small boxes in all. The tenth box contained several pairs of unused panties, and brand new tubes of lipstick in a shade called "Ravenous Red".
Realization washed over me, and I quickly replaced the contents of the large box and took it to my car. I needed to find a place to sleep and sort out this new load of information swimming through my head.
I took the box into the shitty hotel room that I had just rented and left it on the bed as I showered. I had wanted to rip into the notebook, but I needed to be relaxed, clean and clear-headed. I settled into the bed and took out the notebook.
Chapter 5
***
Sandy Simp
son
The little blonde bitch never even looked our way. We drove by her as she walked along the sidewalk holding her books. She was probably a student at the community college, studying business or nursing. Not like it matters. Snooty bitches all think they are better than us, looking down their noses, if they look at all.
She was wearing a dark blue skirt, tight and just above the knee, with a white frilly shirt that was just see-through enough that you could make out the outline of her bra. It was one of them real lacy numbers with the real skinny straps, made more for looking slutty than for actually supporting anything.
I tell you, if these girls wouldn't dress like they want it, we probably wouldn't never notice them at all. But, like my Ma always said, "You dress like a whore; you had damn well better expect to be treated like one!"
So, we pulled up alongside Miss Snooty-britches and I leaned out to ask if she needed a ride. That little bitch didn't even turn her head before she said, "No, I'm fine."
I teased her a little as Theo drove real slow to keep up with her.
"Well, I know you're fine, sweet thing. Why you think I asked if you wanted a ride?"
All she did was walk faster. I told Theo to stop the van and I got out. As I walked up to her, she tried to change direction and run to the other side of the street. I had already looked around to see if there were eyes watching what was going down, and there wasn't any, so I pulled her by the arm real close to me.
I told her "If you scream, you fucking whore, I'll kill you right here in the street."
She was totally silent as I pulled her over to the door of the van. I threw her ass inside and climbed in myself. The first thing I did was give her a swift punch to the jaw. I heard the crack when it popped out of place. She started whimpering and bawling like a baby. I told the bitch to shut the fuck up.
"Please don't hurt me. I'll do anything…" She said, still whining.
I looked her square in the eye. Theo was laughing like crazy when I told that little slut, "I am gonna hurt you, real bad. First, though, I'm gonna make you feel good. And you're gonna make me feel good, cause that’s what whores do."
As Theo was driving to the spot that we had picked out, I took out the knife and rope from the kit we put together. The whore started kicking and flailing her arms and legs like a wild fucking cat. I jabbed the knife at her so she could see that I meant business. When I felt that blade sink into her flesh, I thought I was gonna cum right then and there. My fucking dick got so hard when she screamed and the blood started flowing out of the hole in her arm. I tell you what, though, that little cunt stopped screaming.
I tied her wrists and ankles together so she couldn't kick no more.
"Now look at what you did, whore! You done got blood all over my hand." I held my hand up to her mouth. She turned her head and pursed her lips like I was giving her something nasty to eat. I reached back and grabbed a hand full of that blonde hair and pulled her head back.
"Suck it clean, bitch," I said as I shoved my bloody palm against her lips. I got real close and started rubbing my hard on against her titties.
"You like that shit, don't you? Tell me you like it."
"Please don't make me." she said around my hand.
"Tell me you love it!" I yelled at her.
"I love it," she cried in a whisper.
"I know you do." I tossed her head back and heard it smack against the wall of the van. I tied a rag around her arm to stop the mess.
Theo turned around and said, "You better leave some for me, fucker."
"Don't worry, this whore has plenty to go around, don't you?" I grabbed hold of her tit and squeezed, hard.
We drove to the spot out in the woods. Wasn't nobody around, and we couldn't be seen from the road. I cut the ropes on her ankles, and pulled our new toy out into the dirt. Her pretty white shirt was all stained with dirt and blood. Theo walked around and knelt down to where she was laying on her back.
He said, "Oh, you got your pretty shirt all dirty." He reached down and ripped the shirt open, exposing her lacy bra.
I bent down and used the knife to cut the thin fabric, freeing her breasts. They sure were pretty. Nice and perky, just the way I like them.
Theo got the big blanket out and spread it on the grass, as I picked her up and put her down on top of it. I used the knife to cut away her skirt and her little white panties. She was all shaved, except for a little strip of hair. Only a whore that showed herself to every Tom, Dick and Harry would take that much time grooming down there. Theo grabbed the red panties that we both liked and I slipped them up on her. He took the lipstick and smeared it onto her lips.
"There you go," he said. "Now you look like a proper little whore."
Theo went first while I held her down on the ground, grabbing at her titties, listening to her cry. I don't think I ever been that hard in my life. Theo pulled out and switched places with me.
I tell you what, when I felt her writhing around, trying to get away while I pounded my cock up inside her, I thought I was gonna lose my fucking mind. Theo had wrapped a piece of rope around her throat and was squeezing it tight while he forced himself into her mouth. He shot his load right away. I wanted to take my time. I kept ramming into her, cause I knew she was liking it. Whores always like it.
She started bucking like a bull in a rodeo when Theo pulled that rope tighter. I could see he was straining, and boy was she fighting. I just grabbed those legs tight and kept fucking. Her eyes bulged and I came inside of her right as she quit living. God Damn!
Then it was time to clean up.
"Put your cock away and let's get this piece of trash cleaned up."
Theo got the kit from the van. Bleach, an old douche bag, and some plastic sandwich baggies.
First, I took the panties off her and put them in a baggie with the lipstick. They would be a sweet little souvenir from our nice afternoon together. Theo cut off a chunk of her hair and put it in another baggie. He wanted that hair to remember her by.
I filled up the bag with bleach and then I filled her up with it, killing any little bit of me that was left in there. I know they got tests and shit that can tell who you are just from your seed. Theo filled up her mouth from the bleach bottle. We let her sit there and empty out into the dirt while we smoked and waited.
After we rested for a bit longer, we took her, all her clothes and stuff, and threw it all down the hill and into the river below. I put her ID into my pocket so I could add it to her special box later.
The two of us drove away laughing about how she had cried.
That was a good day. - Dale
***
I sat on the bed in the hooker hotel and read the story that Dale told of my father and his first kill with a building excitement. I knew that I should have been horrified, or sickened, and I should have run to the police right then, but the only thing that I felt after reading the story of Sandy Simpson was desire.
I knew right at that moment what I had to do. I took out a pair of the brand new red panties. As I pulled my pants off and began rubbing the panties on myself, I formulated a plan.
Chapter 6
I watched the tall redhead as she shopped the grocery store. Cigarettes, vodka and canned peaches, a whore's grocery list if I had ever seen one.
She walked out of the store with her head held high, as though she had something to be proud of. Her long, expensive coat rested longer than the black skirt she was wearing. The dark green blouse she wore was tight around her chest, layered with gold necklaces.
I left the store seconds later. As the redhead whore walked to her car, I quickened my pace. My car was parked right next to hers, and I pretended to fumble with my keys as she loaded her bag in the trunk. As she opened her door, I dropped my keys to the ground. I bent to one knee, and the bitch nervously tried to jump into her front seat.
She sure was shocked when I grabbed her ankle and pulled her off balance. I knew she was going to pass out when her head struck the metal frame of her car do
or.
What I did not know right at first was that she did not just pass out. The force of the collision killed her instantly. I had no idea what to do, so I just jumped in my car and drove away.
I sat in that shitty motel room for three days, scared out of my mind. I was too chicken to pace the floor, and too worried to sit still. I kept waiting for the cops to bust down the door and take me away.
Nothing happened. No knocks. No cops. Nothing at all.
After I stopped vibrating with fear and excitement that I had actually killed a whore, I decided to read a little more of the notebook. Maybe I could avoid making the same mistake twice. I got no real enjoyment out of killing her.
Chapter 7
***
Delia Barry
I knew when I saw this one that she would be next. There was never a question. I had been admiring her for days. I actually thought for a minute that I might want to get to know her, but then I saw it.
She got into the car with that negro. I knew then that she was just like the rest of them. A whore and a negro lover to boot.
When I saw her sitting on the sidewalk that day, it seemed to me that it was meant to be.
I walked over and asked her if she had an extra smoke. She pulled out a pack of reds and held it out to me. When I took one and pulled out my own lighter, she smiled. I thought to myself that it was a damn shame that she was such a slut, because she had a beautiful smile.
I smiled back down at her, but the only thing that kept playing over and over in my head was visions of that negro boy sticking it to her in the back seat of his car. I could see it all very clearly in my mind, his monkey hands all over her. It about made me sick to my stomach.
Well it was true in fact that a whore would take on anyone, and I knew this one was no different.
She looked up at me and asked, "What's your name?"
Prodigal Son Page 2
