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“Octavius,” he whispers, swallowing as the blood continues to gash from his wound. I do several bandages and stitches to control the bleeding.
He has to be alive for several more hours. A quick death is not punishment enough for what he has done. Some may say he should rot in prison, but I disagree.
Prison doesn’t change monsters like him. They either find a way to hide their true nature and get out and cause even more pain…or other prisoners find out about their sins and kill them anyway.
At least I make something useful out of their deaths, a sort of twisted way to repay all these souls they have crossed.
I mean, most would say I’m an insane psychopath who loves to kill people, and they would be right.
However, there is goodness in my darkness, and shouldn’t the world appreciate at least that?
“Octavius,” he whispers again, his eyes glistening with fake remorse. “Octavius.” He whimpers when I cover his mouth with my palm, and then, with my other hand, I squeeze his nose until I hear a crack, his chest rising and falling while his pulse speeds up until finally, no sound comes.
The poison has started to work, and I throw my head back, closing my eyes and seeping from this eternal misery the only thing that brings comfort to the hungry and cruel beast living inside me, always eager to inflict suffering and craving for blood.
Every single day spent without killing someone is a day wasted for him.
Because for every victim of mine who manages to escape my wrath, there is another one…crying in the corner wishing for divine intervention to come and protect them from them, to spare them in this unfair existence where their wishes mean nothing.
Greater good means nothing.
Goodness and honor mean nothing.
And in this I can never rest, always catching those who deserve it, and I will never stop.
If I’m breathing, then someone is suffering. That’s the absolute rule in my life.
Throwing the gloves into the nearest trash can, I go to another table and grab several containers with ice and flip them open, preparing for everything and checking the temperature in the room. Satisfied with it, I tap on my tablet and quickly shoot a message to one of my university acquaintances.
A worldwide famous surgeon praised for his grand work and innovations, he’s saved countless people over the course of his career because he found solutions to every problem.
Expect a little present soon.
After that, I scrub my hands again and put on new gloves, my fingers tightening around the tenth blade as I slowly start to cut my victim open while he feels everything.
Unimaginable pain that he has to withstand and stay silent because no one hears him slowly dying inside. Isn’t that a poetic way to go?
Quite fitting for a piece of shit who used his power to exploit those whose parents entrusted their children to him.
Monsters have many forms on this earth, but none of them deserve pity as they know better than anyone that actions have consequences. No matter what you do, whether in the name of goodness or evil…it’s a choice.
That’s why only death can stop them because their sadistic cravings will demand fresh flesh to feast on until they take their last breath.
And I’m not an exception to this rule.
“Principal Smith. The agony, the terror, the hurt is nothing compared to what you’ve done to them for years.” I spit on his face, and he can just scrunch his eyes, tears trembling on his eyelashes. “Don’t worry, though. I will prolong this for as long as possible. And you know the best part about it?” I lean closer to his ear so he won’t miss a thing. “No one will know because no one will ever have proof.” I repeat the words he always said to all the children who had to encounter him and methodically remove all the necessary organs, monitoring his stats on the machines as he slowly ceases to exist.
I’ve already destroyed his legacy by gathering all the evidence and sending it to the police and a few reporters to make this a public case. Everyone would know about his deeds, and it'll serve at least a small justice to those he harmed.
While most murderers prefer to prolong the death of their victims, enjoying their hopelessness and coming up with creative ways to torture them, I never found any interest in that.
Why spend so much time on those who do not deserve to breathe and just suck up much-needed oxygen that should be spent on someone else?
It’s way better to destroy them in ways that ensure nothing is left of them and no one mourns them as that’s ultimately human nature.
Everyone wants to be remembered and loved even after death but very few truly deserve it.
It takes me around an hour to pack everything up in the assigned boxes, writing down all the details of the matches since I’ve done all this work in advance.
