One day my mom made me mad because she wouldn't leave me alone. So I picked up a knife, and slit her throat. She didn't die, and immodestly so I repeatedly stabbed her in the heart. I soon chopped her to pieces and fed her for Thanksgiving dinner. I buried her remains underground.
I have a weird fetish for serial killers. Especially fantasy Creepy pasta characters, and horror movie killers.
I have the worst crush on Jeff The Killer. It's out of hand, because I'm having odd thoughts about killing, and murdering anyone as well.
I invited this girl on a date, and we had a thing going, we were going to engage in coitus on the first date, and demanded she wanted a "golden shower" and a "fist". So, I said NO, and stabbed her right in her bitch ass.
I have never liked my older sister. I have always envied her. Everything always seemed to go her way. She was the smart one, the prettier one, she was the most successful one, and she was also the favorite child. What was I then? I was the annoying deadbeat loser who should be more like her sister. About a year ago, my sister got engaged to her boyfriend of 5 years. This bothered me since I never even had a boyfriend that lasted longer than a week. 2 weeks before their wedding, I made a nice little phone call to my sister's fiancé. I convinced him to come over to my house for a "little talk about how he will be always be there for my sister." When he got to my house, there was no talk. Instead, I broke a glass bottle over his head, which knocked him out cold. Then, with my leather gloves on to hide any finger prints, I proceeded to drag his body into his car. I drove the car a good 15 minutes away from my house. Then I crashed into a tree, on purpose, jumping out before I did it. The crash killed him. It was perfect. It looked as if he died in a car crash on his way to my house. I walked home. The next morning, I got a call from my sister. She was crying and telling me that the police found his body in the crashed car. I pretended that I felt bad for her and asked her if she wanted me to come over and comfort her. Luckily she said no, and that she would okay. The bad thing about this whole thing is, I don't even feel bad about this. In fact, the death of her fiance killing her inside made me feel great about myself. It made me feel like I gave her what she deserved. I am 24 years old, and I killed my older sister's fiance. And I feel great about it.
Well, I was driving down the highway, when I got this voice mail from my girlfriend. I checked it, and it seemed as if she had accidentally dialed it. I heard her cheating on me with another man, and it filled me with rage to the point of no return. I couldn't help it. I went all the way from my business meeting in Louisville, Kentucky then all the way back to Little Rock, Arkansas, and I went berzerk. I flipped out on her, and I was yelling at her, cussing from the top of my lungs for her to die. She yelled at me saying I didn't love her as much or that I "Wasn't the same" anymore. I lost my mind. I looked her in the eyes and I said if I couldn't have her, nobody could. That night I drove back to her apartment and I broke in through the window. I climbed in as stealthily as I could, trying not to make a single sound, a sharpened knife in one hand, a gag in the other. I went and snuck into her room ever so slightly, and I held my hand over her mouth. She couldn't scream, and all I kept saying was, "I told you nobody else could have you." She whimpered as I held her so close to me. I put the gag in her mouth to make sure she shut up. Then I had the knife in my back pocket, making sure she couldn't reach it. I then pulled every piece of clothing off of her body and I then touched her in every way possible. I raped her, and I was feeling great about it. I hurt her and it pleased me. I then finished after 4 hours, bruises were creeping up her body, she was crying, and I licked the tears off of her face because I loved the taste of her fear. I enjoyed it. I then finally pulled out my knife and twiddled it between my index finger and my thumb, humming the tune that we danced to on our first date. She was still weeping so softly. I loved every succulent moment of it. I had such an adrenaline rush! I then wiped it very gently across her neck, and then I said, "Remember, I'm only doing this because I loved you when the feeling wasn't mutual." I then dug the knife deep into her skin, watching the blood drip down her body, loving every minute of it. I then dug deeper, hearing her gasps for breath, hearing the blood spurting out of her trachea, loving how she still could not scream, even if she wanted to. After about four or five minutes, she was dead. Her pulse had gone, and so had our love. But that was gone sooner. I then went back into her kitchen, and pulled out a big plastic trash bag. I put her body in it, and I dragged it down the stairs back to my car, making sure no one had seen what I had done. I then put her in my trunk, and I got in the car and drove away, speeding a little. I felt it. The rush. The power. I realized what I had done, and I could not take it back. I went and I got some bricks and some rope and tied it to the trash bag, then wrapped it with a heavier cloth bag, and I took her out onto a lake. I threw her into the lake, watching the air bubbles seeping through the seams of the bags, watching her float further and further down until the bag was a faded memory just like she was. I then drove back to my place, I didn't even care that there was blood in the back of my brand new Lincoln. I then pulled into my driveway, and I went back into my house and sat there. And sat there. And sat there. That was 12 years ago, and now she's gone. My sweet Susie is gone. All because of one mistake she made. All because of the main mistake I had made. I am glad I am forgiven for this, because it gives me hope that people will accept me, even knowing how much of a monster I was. Thank you all for this. I will never do that again...