SKA: Serial Killers Anonymous

by William Schlichter

  She didn’t resist when I pulled her into the back of the cab.

  “I’m bigger than Big Rauf, but not enough to hurt even a little girl like you.”

  “I mean sex. I’m…I’ve never done it.”

  You would think her confession would strike a chord either inducing sympathy for her and letting her out of it or it was more of her games to get a free ride.

  I pulled it out of my pants and guided her mouth to it. If it was the first cock in her mouth or she just gave bad head, I didn’t care. She gave me no thrill. She fumbled around with it in her mouth but I never stiffened.

  I pulled her to a sitting position and she slipped off her top. Apples. Not even ripe.

  “Take off the shorts.”

  She did as she was told. She’d lost her chattiness and maybe she wanted to cry. She’d want to go home next. It was too dark in the back of the cab for a clear view of her eyes. For sure she regretted running away. I bet she never imagined she would be naked as the day she was born before a greasy truck driver having her first sexual encounter.

  I clamped my hand on her breast, squeezing to make it pop.

  She shuddered before twisting away from my grip. She understood the cost of running toward an unrealistic dream. “I changed my mind I want to go home.”

  “You don’t get to ride for free.”

  She jerked back. I caught her wrist, pulling her toward me.

  “You understand something little girl—” I snapped her pinky finger like a twig. The blood rushed into my flaccid cock.

  Her scream was high pitched enough to shatter glass, but she was too shocked to resist me.

  I slapped her upside the head. I didn’t want to ruin her mouth, not yet.

  Now came the water works.

  “Please don’t hit me. I’ll do what you say.”

  I did anyway. If I lost my edge I’d hit her. Pounding on her until it came back. I took her and took her and I beat her bloody.

  When it was over, I had nothing left. I didn’t care about her. If I wanted it again she would lay there and take it.

  I had a bottle of bleach in a cooler to clean out the blood from between her legs. I sponged her down. I thought her moans of pain from the burning might bring me around again, but they didn’t. I was done—spent all I had. After she was clean on the outside I drug her out of the truck. I had heard about this new thing called DNA and your cock was full of it. I took her into the grass and made her douche with the bleach. She was torn inside and howled and whimpered with pain. Refusing to continue, I shoved her down and forced the liquid into all her crevices. It was almost over.

  She did say if I just left her there she would never tell. They all promise never to tell. I marched along the road to the bridge where I had parked before to catch some z’s. The half-moon lit the blacktop, but not all the way down to the river. I heard the water moving swift in spots, but I couldn’t see it.

  She didn’t even resist, just climbed over the rail, albeit slow as a snail.

  Disappointed there was no splash, I could do nothing about it. It was a fifty foot drop, minimum, and onto a gravel bar. I was hoping for water. The current would carry her downstream, disconfiguring the attack location and destroying more of this DNA.

  But she was dead.

  I would still be early with my load and earn a nice bonus.

  XVI

  JACK FUMES IN his dark corner.

  Information inundates Jesse.

  He imagines Jack’s emotional state. When the old man joined this group, he may have thought everyone else had motivations to kill like his own, but he is the odd man out in this group because he believes what he did was justified.

  Jesse notes the way Ed says Dallas; he means the one in Texas. With the right details Jesse might have a way to figure out where Ed normally operates.

  Edgars’ killings intrige him. They go back far enough for Edgars to have murdered her.

  Ed could have snagged his sister and killed her also.

  Jesse needs the police file on her death. It would provide him with evidence to compare with his notes on the meetings. His mother should explain what happened to her. So much guess work forestalls Jesse from discovering her killer.

  “Was she dead?” Jesse asks. Girl Attacked! Tossed off Bridge! can’t inundate too many newspaper headlines.

  “I told you, I like to know when the cops fail. It was harder then, no Intrerweb or Wi-Fi. If I didn’t pass back through the area within a day or two, the newspapers would have moved onto a new story and I certainly wasn’t going to the newspaper office to ask for an old edition. They might remember the Mack truck parked outside,” Ed says.

  “In this case the little cunt survived the fall. She was alive when some fishermen found her the next morning. Her parents, some town’s important rich folks, had kept her story running on the front page for two weeks. The cops had no evidence, and the police artist sketch printed in the paper was more like Big Rauf than me.”

  “Did you go finish her off?” Robert asks.

  “No, she was dead. The fall did its job, it just wasn’t instantaneous. Her insides had turned to goop on impact. Paper said she just lived long enough to put eyes on her momma one more time. The police got the sketch and she died. They never even questioned Big Rauf,” Ed says.

  “How do you feel about this?” Jane asks.

  “I used to have pride in confusing the cops. And now, with blue pills, I don’t need to beat on a girl to fuck her. But boy, the thrill!” He pauses, reminiscing. “Because I don’t know what else to call it. It was better than any cocaine. I’m not sorry for what I did, I just don’t want to get caught. Cameras everywhere now. Transfer DNA. It ain’t like it was, I can’t enjoy it if I have to be careful.”

  “You have no other reason to stop other than you don’t want to get caught?” Jesse asks.

  “It’s a start,” Jane says. “We build on it. Whatever keeps us from taking another life.”

  Waiting for the next speaker, Jane considers. “We should partner up now. Start with our screen names and chat. If we find comfort in the talks, we move to burner phones next time. We protect our anonymity, but we are there for one another if an urge nags at us.”

  “Before I commit to a sponsor I need to share,” The Plagiarist says. “I’m not sure I have the means to stop killing, but I want to work with this group, work on getting clean, so to speak.”

  “Are you sure you just don’t want ideas to copy?” Kenneth snaps.

  “A fair question, one I don’t have an answer to, but your group is built on sharing and trust. If I don’t share you won’t trust me and may not invite me back. It’s not like you meet in the same location once a week or post it in the church bulletin. I don’t attend with the intention of stealing your crimes, but like Ed, being caught plays into the equation of quitting.”

  “Tell us your story,” Jane says.

  “I had no intention of being a killer the first time, nor aspirations to copy the murders of famous killers. Like many of you, I found it to be a sick, twisted game which thrilled me. The set up for the deaths was what satisfied my urges, not the death myself. Even forestalling the cops was a part of my needs. I even contact certain cops before murders now, proof I wish to stop, but I don’t know how.

  “Strange how the desire to stop doesn’t drive me to march into a police office and surrender. I know this much. After the first murder came my need to kill more. When the first crime was unsolved I had to know if I could get away with it again,” The Plagiarist says.

  XVII

  AT SIXTEEN ALL I knew was I needed to be with a girl—physically. I may have tried too hard. Jana was the girl next door every boy desired. Long brown hair—always perfectly wavy. She didn’t notice me beyond a morning smile at the bus stop.

  I snuck into the barn loft next to her house. Its height gave me a perfect downward view into her upstairs window. Her parents were always gone for their jobs, Dad sometimes days or even a week at a time. I think when M
om wasn’t at work she was out cheating on him, but I’m not sure. She didn’t come home some nights. To make up for being gone, they just bought Jana stuff. They had a pool and when the parents were out of town she would sunbathe topless.

  I’d stare at her for hours as she laid out. Even when I fondled myself she never heard me.

  She sunned herself as two of the more jockular boys pulled up.

  Jana lowered her sunglasses to the tip of her nose and lay back once she spotted who the two were, not bothering to cover those sun kissed orbs.

  I could never speak to her, but for these two she lay exposed, round tits dangling.

  “Hey, Jana. Nice tits.”

  “You’ve seen them before, Cody.”

  “So has three-fourths of the football team.”

  “If you’re going to be nasty you can leave,” she teased.

  He scooped her up and tossed her into the water.

  She hit with a squeal.

  As she waded to the ladder the boys stripped. They both jumped in naked, close enough to soak her again.

  She screamed at them, but it was only playful. They grabbed her. Cody kissed her mouth while Zeb kissed her neck. His hands disappeared under the water. Within seconds he brought Jana’s right leg up above her head—she was so flexible. Her red bikini bottoms hooked between her toes. He grabbed them and flinging them to the deck.

  “What are you boys going to do to me?” she teased.

  Zeb pulled her so her feet dangled above the water, but she still faced Cody.

  Her scream was one of pain. She slapped Zeb on the chest, one arm still around Cody.

  “Fuck. That hurts. Zeb, you just can’t go shoving that thing into a girl. I told you last time if you couldn’t work it in slow, no more sugar puff for you.” She jerked away from him, wrapping her legs around Cody. She kissed him, stirring the water with her hips.

  “That’s better. You’ll loosen me up before he ruins me.”

  “You’re so tight not even Zeb’s tanker will ruin you.”

  I enjoyed witnessing each of them taking turns with her.

  She must have been on the pill. They never used protection and only fucked in her pussy. Every time they tried to enter the back she protested and said nothing boys peed out of would go in her mouth. Man she took them each four times. Once she got comfortable with Zeb she did nothing but moan with pleasure.

  Then they just gathered their clothes and left her on the deck—fucked raw.

  “I’m going to need a week to recover from that.” Breathless abandon flushed her.

  The two jocks constantly high fived each other all the way to their truck.

  Jana just lounged, contorted on the deck, her round bronze breasts glistening in the sun while her white ass beamed, having rarely been exposed to the sun.

  I climbed the steps to the deck.

  “You two want more? I don’t know if my sugar puff can take another pounding.”

  She remained contorted—eyes closed.

  I saw my chance. I dropped my pants. Despite my self-abuse I was instantly hard upon hitting air. I had her legs around me and slipped inside. It was warm and so wet.

  Before she opened her eyes, she said, “Wow, you guys stretched me open, so enjoy—” Her eyes popped open and she screamed protests. Pounding her fist on me, I grabbed her wrists, pinning them to the deck.

  “Let go of me,” she growled.

  “What’s your problem?” I don’t know why I asked. I did want to know. She fucked everyone else, why not me?

  “You’re scuzzy.” She struggled. “Get off me.”

  My mind was blank. I had no thoughts.

  “Get off me or I’ll tell every girl in the school I couldn’t feel it when you put it in.”

  I was taken aback. No screams of rape, no screams for help, even if we both knew no one would hear. She just laid there with me inside her. She was even going to allow me to take her, but ruin me after.

  My reputation didn’t mean much to me until her threat. Admiring Jana from afar, I had placed little on winning another woman. My focus on future choice she’d left me soft.

  “You’re done, now let me go. Maybe I’ll just tell the girls you last thirty seconds. I won’t even say what a rapist you are, just you have a tiny dick and don’t last.” She giggled. “No girl in this town will ever touch you.”

  Some say they snap before the first kill. I didn’t detect a snap. I just let go of her wrists and cupped her breasts.

  “Get a good feel, perv. It will be the last pair of tits you touch.” She never ceased her taunting. I believe she enjoyed it.

  She got off on this involuntary foreplay. Wet gushed around my crotch from her. I slipped my hand up, flicking her nipples. She let go a moan of pleasure. I slid my fingers around her throat, the genital caress turned vice. At first she liked the rough, but as less air filled her lungs, she struggled.

  Her flexibility allowed her to plant one foot for leverage and kick against me. I lost balance and tumbled into the pool. I did catch her arm as I fell, dragging her top half into the water with me.

  She had no time to gasp for air, instead gulping water. I lifted her by her hair. She choked, coughing water now. Her perfect hair—which she never got wet as she fucked the two boys in the pool—left her with a sad, soaked puppy appearance.

  Wheezing breaths allowed her to spit, “Now I’ll fucking report you.”

  I dunked her head under.

  She thrashed her arms, trying to punch me. Her feet threw a toddler’s tantrum on the deck, her heels impacting hard enough to break skin.

  I was in control. I had the power, the power she had over men.

  I lifted her up as her punching slowed. She sucked in air.

  Once her lungs were full I thrust her under. Her struggle was at a faster pace. She used her feet to push her body up, attempting escape, not combat. Once she slowed again I lifted her head above the surface.

  “Fucking let me go!” Her outburst cost her more time underwater without being allowed to refill her lungs.

  Her legs had no fight this time. I kept her under. She was so tan except her now bluing white bottom.

  I thought maybe she lost consciousness, so I jerked her skull. Water rained from her hair.

  “Please.” This begging tone was new. “I won’t say anything.”

  I lowered her face to the water.

  Her arms splashed as if she attempted a push up against the liquid. “You do whatever you want.” She gulped air. “I promise I won’t tell.”

  I lowered myself into the water to be eye level with her.

  “I don’t trust you. Even if I did want you I don’t anymore.”

  She slips under the surface with little energy left to resist.

  I lifted her head out again. Her eyes were draining of life. She had no strength to breathe.

  A barely audible, “Please.”

  Her water soaked face made it impossible to tell, but I think she was crying.

  I thought about flipping her around taking her from behind, making her take me in her mouth. Making her do what she wouldn’t willingly do for other boys. I had accelerated to a new level of existence. I had unwavering control over this girl. The exhilaration was more than any self-induced sexual release. I doubt even her tight virgin ass—if it was so—would have matched how thrilling it was to shove her head under the water and control her access to her next breath.

  She didn’t move.

  Panic.

  I flipped her onto the deck.

  This time my hand palpated her chest, not for some cheap thrill, but to locate the sternum and compress. I drove the ribcage down until water burst from her nose and mouth. Rolling her onto her left side, more water spilled from inside her.

  I collapsed against her cold skin.

  What had I done?

  I transformed a masturbatory fantasy about the senior slut to attempted murder.

  Was I a killer?

  She coughed. Sluggish to rise, her first word
s were no praise for me allowing her to live, but threats. “You’re so going to be someone’s prison bitch for this. They’ll ass rape you every day after I get done telling them what you did to me.”

  We were both back in the water with my fingers laced in her hair, pushing her to the bottom before I had a single thought. This time I held her under long after her last limb thrashed.

  I left her floating face down in the pool.

  Being in cold water prevented an exact time of death after they determined she hadn’t just drowned. Better they would find two semen types inside her and not one was mine.

  This was when I decided the thrill of being chased was greater than the kill. Physically ill—I waited for days for the cops to come arrest me. They never came, not even to ask questions if noises from her house could be heard at mine.

  Most of what I learned next was from piecing together the town rumors, the persistent ones holding the most truth in them.

  It was a fact Zeb and Cody were questioned multiple times by the police. They admitted to the intercourse, but she was alive when they left. They confessed—bragged—about the tag teaming. They didn’t think it was rough enough to have bruised her ribs. The evidence of possible chest compressions blew the theory she had drowned.

  I had controlled her with her hair and had left no other marks than the shoving of water from her lungs.

  Zeb and Cody were also expected to be the winning stars of the upcoming fall high school football season. If they were arrested for Jana’s murder there would be no leading the team to a state championship.

  DNA wasn’t a thing then. I don’t know if they even needed it since they both confessed to tagging her and they would have only found their DNA anyway. Hell, the incident didn’t even slow them from dating other girls.

  The official report—

  I did wonder if the sheriff thought they did it and couldn’t take a chance of being the reason the football team had a losing season. After all, Jana was a little slut. She’d slept with so many, and not just her classmates. Her mother had taken her turn with many a man in town as well.