Chapter One

Chapter 1.

Sebastian

         When he opened the trunk and lifted the heavy lid covering his gloves and tire iron, he pondered whether or not Carrie was aware that her high-pitched screaming was only increasing his arousal. He took his time, pacing his movements, despite his rising heart rate. Leather gloves, pulled slowly on, secured.... iron grasped firmly..... a slow, deliberate look around.... the night was cold, old fences marked the edges of a dirt road, which was, he noticed, annoyingly caressing the lower sides of his black Mercedes... 50 yards up a green sign whispered “Beasly Road”, and the only eyes were his, Carrie's, and an old cow in a neighboring field... chewing contentedly.

         Sebastian sucked in a deep breath of cold air, enjoying the purity of the moment. Walking slowly to the passenger side of his car, his tasseled loafers silent, he gazed at her through the window... Number 14. His smile was involuntary, a cat with yellow feathers poking out the sides, but it was enough for Number 14 to know that the tight band around her mouth and wrists were not the worst, and every pore of her body simultaneously expelled sweat.

* * * * *

         He liked his day job, a successful CPA in San Francisco, Sebastian was considered to be slightly charming and kind, if not a little boring. He had been raised an only child, his father a prosperous lawyer, his mother died when he was nine. Sebastian was raised on the concepts of discipline, perseverance, and repressed emotion. As soon as his mother died, his father started taking Sebastian to a counselor to “get everything out” away from home and away from his father's ears and meticulously and mercilessly organized life and mind. He still remembers the look of Dr. Proulie's office. The building was old, located in downtown with what seemed like a million steps to the third floor. Chipped paint and no air-conditioning, the smell of dust gently wafted in clouds and streams and steps in the beaten down carpet. The glass in the windows were all foggy and the only items in the office were a chair and desk, another chair across from it, a plastic plant in the corner, a degree on the wall, and muted-toned books in a bookshelf.... no couch.

         At nine, Sebastian was unsure what he had done to deserve to be sent here, and the plastic, pitying smile of Dr. Proulie only frightened him more. The questions were immediately prying and Dr. Proulie was always staring at him, expectant. What exactly did he expect a nine-year-old child to say? His mother was dead, and his father really didn't want to talk about it. Every time Sebastian accidentally mentioned her his father tensed his entire body and talked about something else.... it was obvious to Sebastian that it was bad to talk about his mother, and now, probably because he had been bad and spoken of her on accident too many times, he had been sent to this man, a doctor, trying to get him to talk about the very demon-shadow that was not to be acknowledged in his own home. Sebastian would sweat, and shift in his wooden chair, fear and confusion and shame washing over him. One session at a time, Sebastian wouldn't speak, until finally he grew so tired of evading the doctor's questions that he finally answered one. Dr. Proulie asked, again, “How are you feeling today, Sebastian?” And instead of shrugging as he always had, Sebastian looked the good doctor in the eye and replied, “I feel much better.”

         Now, of course it was a lie, or rather, an experiment, but Dr. Proulie was an arrogant man and the sudden “breakthrough” of this child was immediately accredited in his own mind to his incessant ramblings and wisdoms that he had imparted on the young patient for the last three months of sessions. The response Sebastian received was an instant relief, Dr. Proulie's enthusiasm over the boy's “breakthrough” was the first positive interaction Sebastian had experienced since his mother died. And after the good doctor spoke with his father, Sebastian received a smile and his father's hand on his head... a miracle.

         Sebastian started habitually fabricating his feelings and thoughts in other areas of his life, and quickly gained popularity among his classmates and teachers. All throughout high school, Sebastian was known as calm, congenial, and happy.

         At fourteen, he sliced open a squirrel.

         It wasn't planned...He had missed the bus to school and was sitting on the curb trying to figure out what to do. He felt numb. If he went home, his father would be disappointed in him, if he walked to school he'd be late and his teacher would see him as less than she thought he was... and probably tell his dad anyway. He sat, not moving, starting to sweat in the chill October morning, feeling the weight of the grey sky laughing, judging him, snickering. Something moved in his peripherals, and his eyes darted to the right. A little squirrel was at the base of an oak tree, nibbling on some kind of nut. Sebastian couldn't take his eyes off him... it looked so peaceful. No one watching, no voices, no lies. Why was he enough? Why was a squirrel born ok, what was so wrong with Sebastian that he couldn't even be himself around anyone? Why was he born? Why was he bad?!

         His obsession with the little critter grew, he didn't even realize it when the squirrel locked eyes with his, seemingly paralyzed in Sebastian's gaze. How he managed to grab hold of the animal is still a black spot in Sebastian's memory, the next thing in his sight was the bulging eyes of the tiny creature as Sebastian closed his fist around a furry, soft neck. They were now behind a neighboring house and the most poignant element of the experience was how quiet it was. Sebastian always marveled at how absolutely still the world became in this moment, and all the moments following... peace. No sound, no weight, he stared into the squirrel's eyes, tiny claws gripped Sebastian's right hand frantically, his tail whipping back and forth, tight seizures and spasms as he desperately tried to free himself. With his left hand, Sebastian reached slowly into his backpack and drew out his pencil from his calculus binder, it had tiny bite marks on it, and looking at it, Sebastian was suddenly disgusted with his own constant state of nervousness. Gazing back now at his victim, Sebastian drew back his left arm and with a release starting at his shoulder blades and traveling down his arms and torso, he claimed the squirrel's chest with his pencil. The squirrel arched and convulsed, his tiny mouth jerking open to reveal tiny teeth and pieces of nut, his eyes glazing over. Sebastian was aware of his victim's high-pitched scream as if it were very far away, his absorption in his own experience was too intense to hear or acknowledge anything else. He saw only the white of his own knuckles, as he dragged the pencil slowly but firmly down the furry belly. Blood and tissue and bits of organ and bone spilled over the sides, and the victim's convulsing decreased, and then shuddered to a stop. But Sebastian kept plunging and digging, the metallic smell, the feel of his weapon, the emptiness of the squirrel's eyes... It all belonged to him now. With every scream, every crack of bone, every forceful stab, Sebastian was pouring out his fears, his tension, his self-betrayals, and after the heart had beat the last time, the life, the peace, the good of his victim now belonged to him, was in him, part of him, and he was sated for the first time.

         The sides of his sight started to make black spots as he came down from his kill and started to remember the world around him. He could once again feel the cool wind, hear the birds and smell the death at his knees all too well. He felt no guilt, but rather a dislike for the stench, and he picked up the empty vessel that he had stolen part of himself from and swinging it casually by it's right foot walked through the nearby wood and cast it into the river.

         Never before had he felt such peace, and that steadying force immediately affected every part of his life. Sitting at the table for dinner with his father was no longer a painful ordeal consisting of anger, fear, and anxiety. Now, he spoke freely and confidently with his father, telling him whatever he wanted to hear and keeping up his illusory personality with ease. In turn, his father breathed an internal sigh of relief and found in himself a pride for his son he had never experienced. Likewise, at school,

Sebastian's confidence drew the acclaim of teachers and students alike, and Sebastian started dating.

      Everyone was eager and relieved to accept the mask Sebastian portrayed as himself. Why not? It was a very likable and agreeable mask, with no negative emotions or pesky fears or needs....just, happy. Happy, happy, happy... Sebastian killed something about once a month, then twice a month, then every week. A pigeon, a cat, a dog that got loose, some more squirrels, a couple of bluebirds, whatever he could find. All gave him the same release, all gave him another piece of himself, all remains left in the river.

         No one suspected a thing, until Sebastian's senior year. His woodland killings were becoming more frequent, his peaceful highs were becoming less potent with each encounter. He was starting to panic. Sebastian had been dating Elizabeth “Betty” Freeman for a couple of months now, and he noticed every time he came inside her he experienced a whisper of what he got from every kill. A piece of her was taken for himself, and he hated it whenever she had an orgasm, it felt like she was taking back what he had just stolen... he really fucking hated that. One time during, he grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. Everything got quiet, just like with the squirrel, he felt his own power, with each jump of her pulse under his thumb he itched for her blood. He could see it now, he realized what he had been missing, the life of a whole person all for himself, that kind of peace could sustain him so much longer than those damn squirrels and birds. The very idea cascaded through him in an intoxicating mixture of adrenaline and euphoria, it was only Betty's left foot swiftly jerking into his groin that jolted him out of his reverie, and as he released her she tried to scream, but couldn't, and as he looked down at her and saw her bruised neck in the shape of his hand print, he grabbed his clothes and left.

         The inability to finish her off was unbearable. Sebastian felt empty, and nauseous, as if his soul and heaven all in one had waved at him, just out of reach, and then had been snatched away. But he knew he had made the right decision. Betty had family, Betty had friends, there would be retribution enough for what he had done to her neck, and he was right. Betty's parents called Sebastian's father, sobbing that they had to take Betty to the hospital for what Sebastian had done. Betty wasn't in school for two weeks, apparently had some kind of counseling and what not, and when she returned, she spoke very little, and kept her eyes down. Despite his father's initial shock, Sebastian easily convinced him, and everyone at school, that Betty was lying. No one wanted to believe that their perceptions of the people around them were wrong, so everyone, especially his father, eagerly and greedily accepted Sebastian's story, grateful they did not have to disrupt the peaceful world they had perceived for so long.

         Still, Sebastian was not pleased with how close he came to blowing his cover. Above all things, everyone, especially his father, must believe in the “right” Sebastian that he had created for them. His kills would have to be anonymous, easy to hide, easy to throw in the nearest river, and join their fellow squirrels, and be forgotten.

         After graduation, Sebastian moved to the city to prepare for school at UC San Francisco. He anticipated his first human kill would give him enough confidence and peace of mind to tackle his first semester at college. Therefore, the larger city with its juicy Red Light District was a welcome feeding ground for Sebastian. The weekend before classes began, Sebastian walked to North Beach at ten pm and searched for a victim.

         The night was cold and damp, and as he walked the neon lights and inebriated laughter cloaked him like a loving protector. There was false-light and false-life everywhere, Sebastian noticed that everyone wandering in and out of bars and strip joints all seemed to be quite pleased with themselves, no hint of shame, no glimmer of self-disgust... it would be a pleasure to quiet them forever, and put their peace to good use through his own life and needs, at least Sebastian knew he knew how to appreciate life. A new realization came to him then; by claiming the lives of others, Sebastian not only gave himself a chance at life, he also rid the world of people who don't appreciate, and therefore don't deserve, the life and peace they carry around so flippantly, so carelessly... it was a magnanimous thought, and a smug smile spread across his face and the divine filled his eyes so much that even the way he walked and moved down the slick sidewalk seemed to shift and draw attention. He was now a suddenly handsome and confident man and the women of the night noticed. In pairs and groups they hollered to him. Soft tones and bruised thighs, red lipstick and smudging mascara. The aroma of whiskey, sweat, sex, and cigarette all cascaded towards him in a billowing mass of whores on the prowl. But they wouldn't do, Sebastian couldn't have groups, couldn't have witnesses, couldn't have light.... then he saw her. A tall brunette in fish nets, a blue vinyl miniskirt, high cheap heels and a bright green furry cropped coat. She stood beneath a street light on the other side of the road about a block up, smoking a cigarette and leaning over the sidewalk rail, gazing into the black, inky waters of the bay. Sebastian approached her casually, walking across the street, eyeing her cowardly heels that would not help her soon. She noticed his approach and in one fluid movement flicked her cigarette into the water, swiveling her body around to face him while slightly parting her legs and producing an “open for business” smile. “You looking for me?” she spoke her lines on cue and he had to appreciate her work ethic... still, he had decided during the summer not to rape his victims, the possibility of the women achieving orgasm and ruining his claim was too unbearable an idea. And in this crowd, the chances of that happening were fifty-fifty.

         “Take a walk with me”, Sebastian said while smiling down into her eyes. The prostitute smiled back, revealing slightly crooked teeth and replied, “Of course, my name's Ruby. I'll take you anywhere you want to go.” She giggled as she clutched his arm for support as much as seduction, and they strolled out of the neon reach. She offered her nearby apartment, but he said no, he liked it outdoors. She giggled again and stated her rate was a hundred dollars an hour, flat. He agreed. He led her further down the beach to a cove of seagulls picking at the rocks and a charming absence of life or light. Her heels slipped on the rocks as Sebastian drew her further into the cove. “Where are we goin'?” Ruby asked cheerfully, but Sebastian didn't answer and she didn't ask again. Finally, he sat on a large, flat-top rock and drew Ruby next to him. He watched in amusement as she took in the lack of light and slippery rocks, trying to calculate the logistics of how to go about what she believed to be next. He placed his right hand on her neck, pressing his thumb into her pulse. Ruby instinctively inhaled and heaved the shiny tops of her breasts towards him. She started to hike up her skirt for easy access, but surprisingly Sebastian was in no way aroused. The quiet had already started to flow through him, his thumb still on the beat of life in her neck, his purpose and victory already assured in his mind. In a swift flash of movement, both male hands were constricting around his victim's neck. She clawed at his forearms and Sebastian was slightly aware of the brightly painted green nails reminding him of the claws of his first victim... huh, sweet. He squeezed tighter and Ruby frantically kicked, her heels abandoning her while the slickness of the rocks made Sebastian's efforts all the easier. Tears dragged down her temples, smearing her pancaked make-up and her eyes looked bloodshot as the light left them..... and became part of Sebastian.

          Finally releasing his grip, Sebastian looked at his own hands and felt a euphoria unparalleled with any of his life. This was the peace of his first victim times a million. The gratitude and bliss overwhelmed him and he wept with the joy of claiming yet another piece of himself.

         The empty vessel was rolled into the same inky water she had been gazing into only an hour ago, along with the accomplice high heels, and any evidence or interest was washed away with the current. Sebastian went back to his dorm, floating and satisfied.... He did very well in school.

         After graduation, Sebastian was immediately offered a position at the most prestigious accounting firm in SanFrancisco. He loved being a CPA for two reasons: the clean finality of numbers, and the large quantities of money. He liked his toys and kept everything in his life immaculately ordered and clean. The women he brought home for sex were impressed by his cleanliness, until they realized the sharp order of his life was also the sharp order of his manners as he coldly escorted them out each morning. His colleagues and friends enjoyed talking with him about sports and work... seemed like a real nice guy, a guys' guy, and he never drank too much, something they considered to be a sign

of decency and restraint, whereas in reality his limits on alcohol were a direct result of his need to be coherent and in control all the time so as not to make a mistake concerning a next kill. He couldn't be too careful. One slurred statement of his past follies or one strangled waitress in a bar bathroom would ruin everything.

         About once every three months he went back to the red light district to find himself. A full kill sated him the entire three months...almost... and there was no need to kill more. He disciplined himself not to be greedy, once every three months, period. He started keeping a tire iron in his trunk. While strangulation was his blissful, slow drain of their light into him, when time was available, Sebastian pulled his iron from his Benz and with a quick hack dragged the cold metal, sternum to uterus of each kill. Meditation on the slowing blood and innards allowed Sebastian to enjoy the euphoria of his new piece all the more potently... it was a special treat, and he'd only had the luxury a few times. No dust was ever kicked up, not for whores washed away and never seen again. None of the other ladies ever dreamed of saying anything to the cops, they themselves feared arrest, or even suspicion. Their livelihood relied on discretion.

         Still, after four girls had “disappeared”, they started to become edgy, not wanting to leave their quarters or the light of the street lamps. Sebastian knew he'd have to find other, less difficult, prey. At least for awhile, just until the girls weren't so edgy anymore.

         He drove down the coastline, water had become so soothing to Sebastian over the years. Ever since his faithful river, sweeping away the remnants of his early years of self-creation. He found smaller towns, seedy areas, lost girls so sure they could take of themselves, too young to believe their bubble could ever be shattered by the vicious bite of others and their needs. Runaways were his favorite, and Carrie was his most recent. His fourteenth piece... He fancied runaways to be over-confident, indignant creatures and believed them all to have loving, accepting parents, and their carelessness activated his salivation as he anticipated claiming that which they had been unworthy of.

         Carrie hitch-hiked her way into Sebastian's Mercedes. A large, blue, Jansport backpack, Carrie had flaming red hair and deep, forest green eyes. Sebastian enjoyed the youth and freshness of her, smiling to himself, no cigarette smells, no back room abortion scars or sudden vacant detachment like the night ladies, this one couldn't be more than seventeen.... she would beg, her stages of trauma would be fresh, new, deep... His. He drove her from the main highway to an in-road leading through local pastures and dairies, and turned down a dirt lane marked “Beasly Road”.

* * * * *

         Sebastian opened his passenger door, reaching past Carrie's trembling legs, he lowers the iron onto the floor for easy access. Dragging fourteen out of his car onto the hard dirt, dust clouding around her faded high school sweatshirt, he unties her wrists and removes the sweatshirt exposing her to the moonlight and inquisitive cow. He overpowers her struggles easily, her fear makes her efforts clumsy and she gives up, tears in a constant unforgiving stream down cheeks and neck, muddying little tiny puddles in the dirt next to her peace sign earrings. Sebastian spreads her legs, places her sweatshirt on the ground between the cold sweating flesh, and kneels, protecting his new trousers.

         He fits his hands around her throat, and breathes. So right, so good, each squeeze, home, sanctuary... He gazes into her eyes, willing it from her, hate for her fills him, trying to deny him what so obviously belongs to him. His arms and shoulders flex, the first glistens of sweat breaking through, he starts to rock his body back and forth, increasing steady pressure, fighting his war, taking his peace. Her body shudders, all the dreams, hopes, futures. All the memories and pleadings – detach from her retinas, and flow into him... Her life belongs to me now, and I keep her energy by severing her hold from the equation. “Her life is mine now”, Sebastian muses, “I close her eyes permanently and keep her essence, now coursing through my veins as a hybrid plasma of power and victory, and now I am more than I was before...”