Cute Murderer Novels & Stories

A second later, the lights flickered back on. Both of them blinked against the sudden brightness while rain continued crashing loudly outside the apartment windows. Damian let out a breath. “Okay. Storm. Cool. I was mentally preparing for a serial killer standing behind the shower curtain.” Quinn laughed softly, her forehead resting briefly against his shoulder. “You watch too many horror movies.” “I profile murderers for fun, Quinn. My brain isn’t healthy.” The warmth between them returned almost instantly after that. Easier now somehow. Familiar.

Droplets of blood speckled the ground, his clothes, ran down Bryony’s arms and soaked into her socks and sneakers. The murderer—the second murderer, not our Peter—was making a mess of it. Not a professional, obviously, but more likely a young student at the university who was out for an early morning kill, simply to satiate his curiosity. Or he had done it before, but maybe only once or twice, and he still hadn’t developed his skills yet. Poor guy, thought Peter. He really screwed this up. Perhaps he would have had potential, but now nobody will ever know. Bryony’s wide eyes caught sight of Peter, and she fastened her gaze on him neatly, much like the near perfect sound a snap makes when it

Then, I continued to talk. “The story is all about two young women who accidentally killed their teacher because he tried to abuse them. They erased all the evidence that will connect them to their crime, and they buried the corpse of their teacher underneath their school garden. Mantus Taylor wrote ten rules to be a murderer in the prologue of the novel.” I said to them, “Rule number one; accuse someone of the crime you did, rule number two; be a liar, rule number three; be smart, rule number four; choose an appropriate weapon, and rule number five; create a strong alibi. Those are the primary rules to be a better murderer,” I explained.

He likes to refer to them a bottom feeders, vultures or the classic 'fucking freaks' depending on his mood. With all the media coverage that the case had garnered nation wide, he had hordes of people beating the doors down to see it. Everyone had wanted to see the infamous 'murder motel' where the crazy man and his deranged son had kidnapped all those women and then brutally murdered them. Everyone's favorite place to check out was the old well that had held all the bodies of the victims.

she finished, swallowing the painful lump in her throat. “But I don't want to kill you. I will if you push me to. Don't you see Pebbles? You're the only coloured girl I wished to fuck over and over again,” he laughed maniacally while he pointed the gun at Pebbles' chest. “My pretty Pebbles." She flinched at his nickname for her,“ I only strangled the others because they looked like you; their curly hair, grey eyes, or their freckled nose,” he closed his eyes momentarily, reminiscing on his sick memories. Pebbles tiptoed closer to the kettle on the counter. She stopped when his eyes shot open. She knew he was a rapist, but here he was declaring he was a murderer too. “I would imagine that the

Jade's POV The darkness reached out and grabbed ahold of me. I rubbernecked the wooden cottage in front of my eyes with more anger than I used to make pulp out of Matteo Bernard. The murderer was inside, partying his ass like it was his bloody anniversary. But I know the fucker never had a longterm wife. He was a sadist and tortured every woman he married. His evil ways broke more than just the women's willpower that they divorced him in a fortnight or in about a month.

"I do love hearing how pretty I am." "You don't have a face tat," I said and he checked himself out in the rearview mirror. "You dress clean," I stated and he looked down at himself with pride. "Plus you're smiling. I don't think a murderer would admit to killing someone while smiling." "Maybe the best disguise for a killer is not to look like one." "If you were a murderer you wouldn't tell me. " "On the contrary maybe I would because I knew you wouldn't believe me." "Not unless I knew you would use reverse psychology on me and I did believe that you did do it after all."

He has surely good logic. “That’s what overthinking does,” I said and patted his head. “Don’t touch me!” He looked at me with disgust; the moment that I realized he doesn’t fear death. “If you are saying this man is a murderer, have you seen him kill?” I asked him. He strongly kept our stares and didn’t speak. “I presume your answer is not yet, right? But have you seen, werewolves killing werewolves and hunters? Yes, for sure. If this man is a murderer what about those werewolves who kill for their benefit?”

His gesture made it seem like she didn’t want to miss a single detail of my story. “I-” I thought back to the moment when I was with Tiger, the cat's name that I came up with this morning. “I wanted her to live.” “And you thought about it when you stroked her.” It wasn’t a question. It was more like a blatant statement coming from him, like my story was proof that I am a witch. I shook my head. “That’s not enough to convince me, Doctor Kusher.” “Killer Smile.” Doctor Kusher said. With just those two words, he made me freeze on the spot.

Finally, in a few hours, she could sonorously rest her focus on some dumb civilian hurrying towards home. There was a motel not far ahead and its red labels buzzed brightly at a distance in which the civilian woman approached. Kate calculated the distance to cover mentally. This one was going to make a good meal for now. Kate closed in on the distance in stealth, readying her appetite. Detective Bradley Burke had come so close to piecing together the puzzle that would put the murderer behind bars. It was evident now that the murderer was not entirely human, not in the right sense, because the autopsy report had indicated a variant form of animal.