The Murders at House 66

The man stood alone, a hood over his face, looking towards the house directly in front of him. His face showed no expression, no emotion. He was without love, without compassion. Only hatred for what lie inside that despicable little house. That miserable excuse for a house in a miserable excuse for a town. But he didn’t care. He had a job to do. And it needed to be done tonight before she woke up. Wait…no…she needed to be awake. He needed to see her face. He needed to hear her screams as he tied her to the bedpost. As he showed her what a real man was made of. As he burned down the whole damn house. As he watched and laughed. And she would be right in the middle of it as she burned to Hell. That’s how he wanted it to go. She needed to be awake, to see his face one last time. To see the hatred in his eyes. To see that he would not forget. That he would not forgive.



He would do it now. She usually kept her backdoor unlocked. There would be no trouble. At least not getting in. That would be simple, without difficulty. The hard part would be getting rid of her damn boyfriend. Her little bodyguard. Actually, more like her sex toy. Her cute…little…toy. Oh, how satisfying it would be. How satisfying it would be to hear him scream. Oh yes, like the little pussy that he was, he would scream. But he would not allow it. He couldn’t allow it. No, he had to be caught by surprise. The little pussy had to be struck from behind. He wouldn’t have time to scream. Then, he would go for the slut.



Knowing what he would do, he slowly began to cross the street to the house in front of him. Above, he could see her window. He could see her. The slut who had stole his heart. The slut who had spit in his face, who had left him without the ability to love, to feel. She would finally understand tonight. Finally.



Smiling at the woman undressing in the window, he made his way around the house, to the back. Coming around the back of the house, he looked around for the backdoor. And there it was. Towards his left lie the door where he would enter. Directly beyond the door was the forest.



Seeing only a distant light coming from the living room, he slowly began to approach his entry point. As he gained nearer, the distant light began to reveal itself. It was the television. Her little sex toy was sitting on the couch…asleep. Too easy. Now knowing where both victims were, he grasped the handle to the door and slowly began to turn. Without noise, without difficulty.



He was inside. Too bad she didn’t lock her doors. Gradually, he made his way to the left side of the house into the kitchen, the opposite side of the living room where her toy was sleeping. Eventually coming to the kitchen counter where the knives were located, he took the butcher knife out of its sheath and observed it. The blade was a grayish color with a black handle. Smiling at his weapon-of-choice, he turned away from the counter and made his way slowly towards the living room, knife in hand. Without so much as a noise, he reached the man sleeping on the couch, raising the knife high above his head.



The sleeping giant was completely unaware, completely still. He took a breath…and stabbed.



Once…



Twice…



Three times…



Four times…



Five times…



The little bastard never had time to scream. He was dead even before the fourth strike, lying in a pool of blood as he licked the blood off of the blade. And he smiled. Smiled at what he had done. Smiled at how it was so simple, yet so satisfying. Oh, how good it tasted. The little bastard was finished…and the slut was next.



Laughing, he turned his back to the corpse on the couch and walked around the living room to the front door where the stairs were located. As he came nearer, he could hear the shower running. She was in the shower. And judging by it, she was close to being done. That would give him enough time to make his way up the staircase, to her bedroom. Enough time to wait for the right moment, the right time to reveal himself.



Slowly making his way up to the second floor, he listened closely for the sound of the water to stop. Reaching the top floor, he smiled. She was still in the shower, still unaware, still naked. He had plenty of time as he reached her open door, standing there, listening to the sound of the water.



From her bedroom door, he could see her door to the bathroom to his left. The door was opened slightly to where he could see the mirror and therefore see her through her transparent shower curtain. He could not deny it. The woman was surely beautiful. In fact, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, ever loved. With luscious blond hair and sapphire-blue eyes, she stood no taller than six feet, her face that of an angel.



Too bad the bitch had to die.



A minute had gone by. Maybe two. Maybe three. Who really cared? He wasn’t counting. No…he was too busy watching her…the bitch who had stole his heart, who had left him for that puddle of blood down on the couch.



Too bad the bitch had to die.



Suddenly, the shower stopped. He could see her pull aside the curtain and grab the towel hanging over the bar. He could see her step out, shake her hair and attempt to dry it with her towel. He could see her dripping wet, and completely unaware. Silently, he moved towards the bathroom door, butcher knife in hand. Soon, she would be his.



Putting his back to the wall, he waited for her to move closer. He would hide the knife behind his back. He would avoid hurting her at first. After all, he wanted her to be somewhat alive as he threw her on the bed, her body unable to move, as he burned the whole damn house down.



One…



Two…



Three…



Without anymore hesitation, he pulled aside the bathroom door and stepped inside.



The bitch screamed.



“Hey, Emily,” the man said with a grin as the girl frantically reached for an object of any sort to use as a weapon. Finding nothing, she only stood there dumbfounded.



“My sweet, sweet Emily. I know you too damn well. There’s nothing for you to use in here against me. I made sure of that. You’re in a dead-end, babe,” he said revealing the knife from behind his back.



She finally found the courage to speak. “Oh my god! What the fuck are you doing here? Where the hell is Andrew?”



“Oh, your cute little toy? Well, babe…he’s in deep shit. He’s taking a little nap on the couch. But don’t worry ‘bout him, Ems. I’m here for you, not the bastard,” he replied, raising the knife a little higher.



Worry had escalated to fear. “Oh my god. I-is he dead?” she stuttered, taking a step back towards the shower.



He laughed. “What the fuck do you think, you slut?! Of course he’s dead! You think I would just let him walk free? Hell no. And guess…who’s…next?” he spoke with a snarl.



With determination in his eyes, he lunged at the woman naked in front of him, butcher knife in hand. She attempted to lash out at her attacker in order to protect herself, but to no avail. He was too strong, too much for the girl named Emily. The man had her against the wall, both his feet on top of hers and both of his hands restraining hers whilst still maintaining to keep hold of the butcher knife in his right hand. She was unable to escape his grip, unable to defend herself.



So, she screamed. After all, that was all she could do. And he bit her on the neck. Bit her soft, pale skin. Tasted the dark red blood on his lips. Tasted the pain. And he laughed. And she cried silently, trying desperately to fight the pain. She couldn’t. She couldn’t escape it. She could not hide her tears from the man in front of her, the man to whom she had once loved. She was going to be slaughtered here. And she could do nothing but embrace the end. The man was too strong. Too strong for the girl named Emily.



Finally, the man raised the knife and stabbed Emily’s palm of her hand, her left hand. Screams erupted from the girl, the pain unbearable. Then, he did the same with the girl’s other palm. And she screamed louder this time, both of her hands now useless. Next, he smashed both of her elbows, rendering them useless. Again, more screams and more tears. Now, he moved on to her kneecaps, smashing them similarly to what he had done to her elbows. Both kneecaps shattered, he shattered both ankles. Again, she screamed, the shattering of the bone inaudible due to the woman’s violent screams.



He laughed.



She was immobile. She could only feel pain.



Too bad the bitch had to die.



Quickly, he lifted her up into his arms and took her out of the bathroom, and into the bedroom. When he neared the bed, he threw her on top of it, her body falling limp. Then, he took out the lighter from his pocket. And he smiled.



“You know what I’m gonna do to you, Emily?” the man asked, the woman lying motionless on the bed.



She didn’t respond. Only silence.



“I’m not gonna rape you, if that’s what you’re wondering, Ems. No…I’m too dignified for that. As you can probably tell from the immense pain you are feeling, you are virtually immobile. You will not be able to escape the house, nor me. Now, let me tell you what I’m gonna do to you, Ems.”



She didn’t respond. Only slow breathing.



“I’m gonna burn down the whole damn house with you right in the middle of it. You’re going to experience the wrath of Hell right here in the comfort of your own room. And I’m gonna enjoy every fucking second of it. So, get ready Ems, it’s about to get a whole lot warmer in here,” the man said to the woman lying nearly motionless on the bed.



Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small container of gasoline. Smiling, he poured all of it over the girl on the bed so that most of her body was covered. He then took the lighter and pushed the button to light it. Then, he placed the flame upon her soft, elegant skin. And she was in flames, screams again sounding throughout the room. And all the man could do was laugh. Laugh at what he was doing to the girl named Emily. Laugh at how easy it was to kill, to take a life. Laugh at how helpless she was.



“You see now, Ems? You see how fast things happen? How fast life can end? Hmph…it’s a pity,” he spoke, taking the lighter and returning it to his pocket. “It’s about time for me to get going, Ems. Nice seeing you though, babe. You look great,” he added.



Turning towards the door, he made his way out of the room away from the dying girl on the bed, closing the door behind him. From there, he made his way down the stairs and into the garage to his left. In the garage, he found a larger container of gasoline and a few matches. He took the container and returned into the house. Then, he poured the gasoline in a continuous stream throughout the bottom floor of the house. With the floor being doused in gasoline, he then lit a match and threw it by the kitchen counter. And that was when the house was set ablaze, the flames spreading like a wildfire.



And he laughed.



What he had set forth to do was now closer and closer to being accomplished. Only a short time remained before the end. Before all came crashing down. All that remained was to…



Turning his back on the raging flames, he approached the living room and sat beside the bloody corpse on the couch, the reality of what was so slowly approaching unable to phase him. He did not fear. He did not worry. No…he was ready to embrace the end. He was ready to burn to Hell. To accept what he so rightfully deserved.



He waited. Waited for the flames to edge closer and closer to where he lie. To where he designate his final resting place. He watched and waited as the flames enveloped the house, starting with the kitchen and continuing throughout most of the house after only minutes. Lastly, the flames came to the living room.



And he smiled.



Smiled as the flames, too, enveloped him, the smell of burning flesh reaching his nostrils, a strange sense of relief overwhelming him. The man knew of the end, knew it was coming all too soon. And he embraced it as he burned to Hell. As his flesh burned , a strong odor ravaging the room as strong as the flames.



Soon, he would take his last breath. The last breath that would send him to the ground. Damn. It was so close now. Too close. But he would not regret. No…he could not. He would not. This was the end he had chosen. And he would not waver.



The flames ravaged his body, immense pain overwhelming the man on the couch. He could barely think, barely feel. Minutes passed and the pain continued to stay sharp as ice, his veins bursting all throughout his body. Yells of intense agony soon erupted through his mouth and through the flames.



Time…was…slowing.



His vision soon became distorted.



And he collapsed. Never more would he cause pain to others. Never more would he murder, slaughter, kill innocents. Never more would he walk the land of the earth. The end had come, all crashing down around him, the angels of Hell surrounding the fallen corpse, to retrieve one of their own. To take back to the depths of Hell. To torture, to manipulate. To dominate. He was going home where he belonged…in Hell.



Too bad the bitch had to die…