|
 |
 |
|
|
|
| Author |
Message |
    
lorraina esquivel
Unregistered guest
| | Posted on Tuesday, September 28, 2004 - 9:15 am: | 
|
In the mind of a killer.
By: Lorraina Esquivel
“Congratulations, it’s a boy,” The doctor said to the new mother. Her hair was scattered and her face red and filled with sweat. The lady’s look was a look that know one could forget. Her expression seemed that she went to hell and back. The nurse cleaned up the baby and started to walk towards the mother.
“Here you go,” She said to the mother. “Okay sweetie time to go to your mommy.” As the nurse expanded her arm to give the baby to her; the mother pushed him away.
“Keep him away from me!” The mother yelled; the doctor and the nurse looked at each other in shock. The baby started to cry. His mother gave him a glare that was ice cold, like if he was an enemy. “Why is that little brat crying!”
“Well maybe because he is hungry,” the nurse said abruptly, the nurse passed the baby and left the room.
Years have passed and now the little boy is seven. There was image of school kids teasing the poor little boy.
“Ha Ha,” a little boy named Robert started to laugh. “Your mom went to jail last night. My daddy say’s that she is a whore and that you should be taken away.” That angered the little boy, he hated his mother for giving him life; he hated living in this horrible world. Without thinking the little boy raised his fist and forced his arm toward Robert. His fist hit Robert directly in the stomach. The little boy can feel his fist hit the pillow like substance. It felt like punching mud; it was soft and squishy. He loved that feeling.
Years pass again and now he is thirteen years old. There he is standing in front of his drunken mother.
“Not done with your chores what the hell am I going to do with you!” his mother yelled. He could smell her rancid breath underneath his nose. He felt like vomiting but couldn’t. Couldn’t even make a face in front of her unless he wanted another black eye.
“Are you listening to me you little freak,” she shouted. He nodded slowly; he didn’t want to get her angrier, but it was to late. THWACK! The mother slapped him across his face.
“Answer me!” she yelled. He started to cry and whispering yes. She turned around and saw her belt. She grabbed it and started to slap him over and over again. His skin started to burn after every slap she gave him. He fell into a fetal position and stayed there till her torture was over. She dropped the belt and started to head toward the door.
“I got to go now,” she whispered. All the yelling had strained her throat. “I got to go to work, and when I come back I want this whole place clean you got that you little brat.” The boy stared into her cold eyes and nodded. She got her hat off the coat rack and slammed the door behind her.
All his horrible memories start to fill his head over and over again. Every single slap made him twitch; every single yell made him tear up, and every cold stare made him shiver. All the voices started to fill his head. The nurse, Robert, his mothers, and the kids from school. They all were there beating him up in his mind.
He kept twisting and turning in his bed trying to escape his dream. One final slap of the belt jolted him out of his nightmare.
“No!” he screamed in horror. He looked around and saw that he was safe. He was home in his tiny little apartment. The man got up lit a light and walked toward his desk and started to write a letter. As he was writing he started to tear up. Two little drops of tears fell onto the paper, while they others had gotten wiped away. He put the pen away and the letter in an envelope. He got up from the desk and headed to his window. He stared out to the crowd and gazed at a lady. He knew what she was and he was sad for her. He thought that know one should live like that, especially children. He turned from the window and headed toward his closet. The man got dressed, picked up the letter, and place it in his bag. He took his hat from his bed and headed out to town. When he had reached the bottom of the stairs he had placed his letter in the mailbox. And headed out the door. And there he saw the girl standing there waiting for a job. He hesitated at first but he finally gave himself enough courage to go up to her.
She noticed him like a soar thumb, she knew what he wanted, and she knew he would pay a big price.
“Looking for a date babe?” She had asked the man. He stopped dead in his tracks. The butterflies started to build up in his stomach. “What’s the matter hon., I won’t bite. So are you looking for a date?”
“Y-Yes I-I-I am,” he stutters. “I am willing to pay you a lot.” The lady smiled and grabbed his hand.
“Well then lets go and find a nice secluded spot,” she had whispered. She had taken him to her original place. “No one will find us here these stupid people are to afraid to come in the alley at night,” She had told the man. She took him to a dead end in the alleyway and turned around. “Okay are we ready?”
“Not yet,” the man whispered. He turned around and opened his bag.
“Aren’t you sweet but you don’t have to pay until we are done love,” She giggled to the man.
“I’m not paying you yet,” The man mumbled. He turned around and head toward her.
“Then what are you doing?” she had asked him. The man went toward her with a weapon, she tried to scream but he covered her mouth before she could let out a peep. She tried to fight him off but he was much too strong. She tried to slip away but his grip got tighter. A pain started to come from her neck she stared at the red ooze that was coming out of her. She couldn’t breathe; she tried to but no air would come into her body. She started slip into deep sleep for the rest of her life.
The man was done toying with her insides, and started to cleanup. He knew that people were watching from the inside of their homes, but they wouldn’t do anything to help the girl. He wasn’t afraid of them telling his description because he was facing a wall when he killed the young woman. As he was cleaning his utensils his mother’s gory death came into his mind. He remembered it like it was yesterday. After getting slapped with her belt over and over again one night he finally had enough. So when she went to work he started to think of a plan. His mother came home a little after three and discovered that the house was still a mess.
“What the hell!” she yelled. “Okay you little bastard where the hell are you!” She barged into the room and pounced onto his bed hoping she had hurt him. As she uncovered the bed she discovered that he wasn’t there. The thirteen year old boy started to scream behind her and started to slash her over and over again with a butcher knife that he had stolen from the butcher across the street. Her agonizing screams was the last thing he heard from her. Until three months after her death, she had gotten into his brain and started to command him and abused him from his mind.
Now he is twenty-three years old and she is still hurting him from the inside. He used to control her voice, ignored her, but she got too strong. She tortured him even after death telling him what her job was, what she did with the men, and how much fun it was beating the life out of him. As she grew stronger he had gotten weaker. Finally a week after his twenty-third birthday she grew control of him, and he thought he was finished. He started to grow worse every day, until he decided to take action. He hated her kind of people especially her friends who helped her get into that kind of business. He killed three of them he only need two more. He picked up his tools and started to go back to his apartment. He can hear a little muffled voice in his head, and after a minute the voice became clear.
“Help me!” The lady screamed “I’m dying!”
“Shut up,” the man mumbled. “ No one could hear you, you’re in my head.”
“What! I don’t understand!” she screamed.
“I’m telling you that you are no longer amongst the living,” he whispered.
“Are you saying that I am dead!” she shrieked.
“That’s what I am saying.” He replied.
“Why me? I didn’t know you at all,” she told him.
“No but you did know my mother. Don’t worry your friends will explain it to you.” He laughed. Then out of nowhere three other voices popped into his head including his mothers. The whole way back to his apartment the four ladies were yelling at him, calling him a freak, murderer, and a bastard. But he didn’t care soon this will all end and they will all go to hell after he kills the last prostitute.
“What do you think sir?” the officer asked the detective. The detective got up and walked away from the deceased woman.
“I say it was another of the maniacs victim,” he had whispered. “She was killed like the other ones.
“Sir!” another officer yelled. “This just came from the police department it’s for you.” The detective took the letter from the officer and ripped it open.
“Well, well looks like the maniac has a name now,” he told the other cops.
“What is sir?” One had asked.
The detective looked down and faced the deceased women. He bent down and closed the young ladies eyes. Then he got up and faced the officer.
“Jack the ripper.” He replied. |
Ken Proctor
Detective Sergeant
Username: Gizmo
Post Number: 72
Registered: 2-2004
| | Posted on Saturday, January 29, 2005 - 11:13 pm: |
|
Hi Lorraina Excellent short story. I enjoyed reading it. Too bad others havent taken he time the time to read it. "GIZMO" 
"Hey Rookie----You were good" (Field Of Dreams)
|
|
Use of these
message boards implies agreement and consent to our Terms of Use.
The views expressed here in no way reflect the views of the owners and
operators of Casebook: Jack the Ripper.
Our old message board content (45,000+ messages) is no longer available online, but a complete archive
is available on the Casebook At Home Edition, for 19.99 (US) plus shipping.
The "At Home" Edition works just like the real web site, but with absolutely no advertisements.
You can browse it anywhere - in the car, on the plane, on your front porch - without ever needing to hook up to
an internet connection. Click here to buy the Casebook At Home Edition.
|
|
|
|
