Darker Still by T. S. Worthington Page B

smiled as he watched the video. It never got old. He would sit and watch these videos for hours on end. He had spent a fortune on this expensive video equipment and he had damn sure gotten his use out of it. One day when he was dead and gone someone would find all of this per his instructions and then he would forever be the most famous mass murderer in history. And he had evaded detection his whole life. That was the greatest thing that had ever been done.
    He started the film back at the beginning and watched it again. He loved to see the way the whore behaved when he showed her who was boss. She thought she could tell him what was what and who he was? She thought she was too good for him? That was crazy talk. He put his mind to it and he got her in every possible way and he decided her fate in the end. That was power. That was control. He was the most important person in her life and she never would realize it. So she had to go.
    He proudly finished the video as he sipped his herbal tea. It was one of life’s greatest pleasures. He loved it this way. There was nothing that could compare to the way he felt after a kill. The anticipation leading up to it was marvelous.
    He switched to the footage of the actual kill. He always saved that for last. So much planning always went into that to make it special. He knew that it was the only thing in the world that really mattered to him. He had to get it right or the experience would be ruined. And it wasn’t like he could bring them back from the dead and have a do over.
    He had told the girl that she was going to die right then. The terror overtook her and she went completely bonkers, letting go of every ounce of resistance. All that was left was to beg for mercy and he just didn’t have any mercy to give. He never had really. That was just not the way he was wired.
    Thanks to his father that is. He hated to think of his father when he was about to watch and relive such a beautiful moment, but it happened sometimes. He hated to admit it but he was always trying to get his father’s approval, even now. With each kill he knew his father was around there somewhere pulling the strings and telling him that he was wrong and would never do anything right. He was still trying to please that piece of shit. He couldn’t believe it.
    His father had beaten him for sport and when he didn’t do what he wanted the right way. His father expected him to excel at everything. He had been large for his age, but he was an awkward child and was never very athletic. His father had insisted he play sports anyway and when he messed up his father would call him stupid and lazy and a total disappointment. Then his father would beat him and beat him while he made him practice repeatedly. Every time he failed to do it perfectly he would suffer another round of beatings.
    His mother would behave the same way when it came to his school work and his social standing. He was awkward and shy. He had never been good at making friends. He didn’t understand other people. Even then he knew that he was different. Other people had all of these feelings and emotions that he didn’t even begin to understand. He could not for the life of him grasp why people cried when they lost friends or family members. Nothing in your life really changed, although he would have felt relieved if his parents had died.
    Which was probably why he had killed them both. It had been easy. He had been away on a class trip when the carbon monoxide detector failed and the carbon monoxide had asphyxiated them. He could thank his mother’s harping at him about his chemistry grades for showing him how carbon monoxide worked. It really was a beautiful gas. It just took a little tweaking to make it happen. Both of them had died in their sleep.
    He had been left their life insurance and he was able to start his new life without any interference from them.
    He smiled now as he thought of it and how it had been his first real taste of murder. He