the Top Ten Ways to Die

The Top Ten Ways to Die

         I sit in a room with off –white walls, and a heavy metal door. My room is in the high security ward. Two guards are always right outside my door. I bet you’ve guessed where I am, but you’re dying to know what got me sent to the crazy house. It’s simple really. I’m a psychotic killer. The current death toll is one thousand, and my killing style is very unique. The first ten victims were the coolest. I started with my mother at age 5.

I hated my mother so much, and she hated me. I could see it in her eyes, the way she looked at me. So one day I came up with the perfect plan. I… would kill her. I went home that night a very sharp stick in hand. I waited until she was asleep, and then crept slowly into her room. I climbed into the bed and sat beside her.
My mother’s brunette hair lay scattered on the pillow, her skin glowing in the moonlight. “mother.” I whispered. She stirred. “mother.” I said. She opened her hazel eyes in time to see the stake plunge into her heart. Her blood caressed my hands sweetly as the life faded from my mother’s eyes.

I killed my second victim on my sixth birthday. Scott was the quiet type. He could be the next Albert Einstein, but you’d never know it. Now his death… his death was fun. My foster parents had invited him to my birthday party. I hated Scott. I don’t know why, even to this very day, but I hated him with a vengeance. So, before the party I took a light bulb from the hallway closet and I broke it. Some of the glass was still connected to the silver base, exactly how I planned. I hid my newly acquired weapon in the witch-hazel bush in the backyard. I waited for Scott to arrive, to feel his skin peel away.
At the end of the party, as everyone was leaving, I brought Scott over to the witch-hazel bush. I pulled the light bulb out of its hiding place. Scott saw my shiny new trinket and looked at me with fear in his eyes. “ple-“ I drove the light bulb into his neck, felt the familiar warmth of fresh blood as the light bulb cut deep into his vocal cords. I pulled my weapon out slowly, causing Scott insufferable pain. I jabbed the light bulb into his arm and began skinning him alive. I could hear a ripping sound as the muscle was torn from the skin, and I smelt the metallic scent of blood. “good bye, Scott.”

When I was eight I killed my third victim. I was at Jennifer’s house because she was having a sleep over. Jennifer and I were the only one still awake, and a snack was sounding real good. We silently slipped into the kitchen to get some snacks. I got two PB&J sandwiches and she grabbed the Doritos. I didn’t mean to kill her, it just kind of … happened. I was eating my PB&J when I just lunged at her, sandwich in hand. I held Jennifer down and shoved the PB&J as far down her throat as possible. I could hear her choking on the peanut butter, the jelly sliding down her wind pipe.

My next victim was less than a year later. My long lost father came back into my life. The drunken imbecile thought he could take care of me. One month, that’s all it took before he joined my mother. I waited for Friday night, poker night. He always gets really drunk. After his buddies went home and he fell into a drunken stupor, I got the hose and shoved it down his throat, tearing the delicate tissue and into his stomach. I grabbed the Windex sitting on the coffee table. I poured the toxic blue liquid down his throat, killing him for good.

I decided to lay low after that. I didn’t kill again until I was 14. I just couldn’t take it though when my boyfriend cheated on me…with my friend, Aleisha. So I took them both out to the woods and chained them to trees. Everyday I would feast in front of them, never offering them a bite. They stayed in the forest for a week without food or water. “So, Zack. Are you going to cheat again?” I asked. He warily shook his head no.
         “Too bad I don’t believe you.” I said, pulling a gun out of my purse. I shot him three times; once in the head, once in the heart, and again in the crotch. “Aleisha, we were friends. Why did you hurt me?” her eyes pleaded with me to spare her.  “Fine I won’t shoot you. I’ll just leave you here.” I said, walking away. She died three days later from starvation, although it looked like a raccoon enjoyed her toes.

My seventh victim, Josh, was an interesting kill. He was a notorious peeping tom, and I caught him under my window many times. I finally rid this world of him in the most unusual way.  It was a Tuesday night, the moon was full and Josh sat under my window; Camera in one hand. I was sitting in front of the mirror, mascara in my right hand. I got up and made my way to the window. I opened it up and looked down at Josh.
         I thrust the mascara into his retina. He let out a deep throaty scream, and pulled at the mascara, but it wouldn’t move. I took my perfume bottle off my desk and beat the mascara tube further into his eye, piercing the brain. I smelled the familiar metallic scent of blood, a precious childhood memory.

The next unlucky soul was my brother, J.B. His death was… weird. I was supposed to be baby sitting the little twerp. I guess my “parents” thought a sixteen-year-old girl had nothing better to do on a Saturday. I was sitting at the dining room table, doing my algebra homework; J.B was in his room asleep. I was about to solve the equation 3x-x(3-6x) when he woke up. I climbed the stairs and walked into his room. “hey J.B, what’s wrong?” I asked.
         J.B just kept crying. I searched the crib for the bottle, but it wasn’t in there. “where the fu-. Where’s the bottle?” I asked to the room. I picked him up and gently patted his back. He stopped crying, but only for a few seconds. I grabbed a diaper and the wipes and set him down on the changing table. I took the diaper off and used four wipes to clean the mess of liquid brown goo that was my brother’s bowel movement. I put a fresh diaper on J.B then put him in his crib. I went downstairs to throw away the old diaper , then went back to my homework. I had just distributed the x to the 3 when he started crying again. I got my paper and my math book and thumped back up the stairs. I pulled my homework sheet out of the book and gently pressed the edge against his soft throat. I slid the paper against his throat, creating a deep, bloody gash.

The ninth victim was… well it was more like victims 9 through 19. I have always been fascinated by acid. The way it burns away at  the flesh. During my senior year of high school, I managed to get my hands on it. I broke into the school on a Thursday. I had ten cans of Pepsi in my bag, mixed with acid. Now, I knew people, particularly the football team, would be hitting the vending machines during practice and before Friday night’s game.
         On Friday morning walking into the school I saw the first victim, Sydney, grab a Pepsi from the vending machine. During first block I heard the sirens of an ambulance. I saw a few more people at the vending machines, but no one got a Pepsi.  Around the end of the school day I saw at least half of the football team grab a Pepsi. I went to the game that night. I swore I heard screams of pain and agony from the locker rooms but I couldn’t be sure. At least not until the coach came out screaming for an ambulance. The quarter back, the running back, and three others on the defense line  were victims. On Monday, four teachers were found dead in the office, their throats melted and burnt. The stench was that of sulfur, dead fish, and burnt, rotten meat.

I went to college and got into med school before I killed another person. I was simply growing bored; so I decided to have a little fun. I was running rounds with Dr. Morrison, and one patient had cancer. She was recovering from surgery and was in chemotherapy. A happy ending. That is until I came into her life. There’s not much to tell for this one, just a little too much air in the veins. Compliments of me, of course.


      Because of lack of detail in the last one, I shall describe this one with such clarity there should be no confusion. If you have a weak stomach then I suggest you leave the room, and I’m serious, it gets pretty nasty.
Well, any way this one was a vivisection. For those of you who haven’t graduated med school, it’s an autopsy while you’re still alive. Basically, it’s a chance for doctors to cut you open for no reason except to look at your organs and watch your heart go thumpity-thump. Last chance to leave the room.
Kate wheeler was her name. she was in the hospital because she needed a kidney transplant. She wasn’t getting her kidney anytime soon. I led her into an operation room and strapped her to the metal table. “ you know, you really should make sure our doctor isn’t crazy before following them into an O.R.” I said. she began to tug at the straps, but they would not let her up. I walked over to the table with all of the instruments. I reached for the scalpel, but pulled back my hand. “Silly me, I for got to lock the doors. I wouldn’t want to be interrupted.”  I walked over to the doors and locked it, then just for emergencies I shoved the heart monitor and the respirator in front of the door. I walked back over to Kate, grabbing the scalpel on the way. “this will hurt a lot, I promise.” I said, cutting into her warm flesh. The blood dribbled out of the wound as Kate let out a blood-curdling scream. “Going to have to do better than that I’m afraid. You blood hasn’t curdled yet.”
I think she actually tried to scream louder but I was to busy using the perfect y-cut. by now there was a line of crimson marking my slow trek down her torso. I grabbed the volkman retractor. “your going to wish you were dead after this.” I said.
“I already do.” She managed to choke out.
“good!” I said cheerfully.
         I inserted the retractor into the cut and pried the skin apart. Kate screamed louder than a screaming banshee, if that’s even possible. The blood poured over my hands now, and I reveled in the comforting scent of blood. Kate went on screaming but I tuned her out. I grabbed the rib spreaders. I placed them delicately between her ribs and began the process. I heard the ribs groan under the pressure, then crack, and finally a couple of them broke all together. Kate had passed out from the pain a while ago. I  became aware of a pounding at the door. I could see Dr. Morrison outside the little window and waved my blood soaked hand at him. Behind him I think I saw a Policeman and someone on the swat team. I turned back to Kate and drove the scalpel into her left lung. It wasn’t that interesting, so I moved on to the bad kidney. It was a sick black color and looked as though someone had smothered it in barbecue sauce.
         I quickly lost interest and moved onto her liver. “your just no fun, a clean bill of health except the kidney thing.” I mumbled to the dying Woman on the metal table. The door was hit a solid blow by a heavy object. I quickly forgot about it as I moved on to the heart. “Thumpity-thump goes the heart.” I said. I grabbed the aorta, the very important artery that pumps blood to the body. “Do you know what happens when the aorta is blocked?” I asked Kate. “It means the blood has to go backwards. It’s a very painful procedure.” I answered.
         I clamped my thumb and index finger on it, effectively reversing the blood flow. Her heart literally skipped a beat as the blood began to be pumped back into the lungs. From the hole in Kate’s left lung I could see the blood seep into her lungs from the bronchial tube. She began to cough when the blood cut off her airway, and then began coughing up the blood. After a few more minutes two things happened; one, Kate wheeler died at 2:15, two, the door slammed open and six men came in with guns. I turned around slowly. “Looks like my fun is over.” I said.