Murderer Synonym Novels & Stories

I don’t use the word hate easily or often. But I hate the Syndicate rogues, and I hate Ignazio. These are the two incidents where I feel hate may not even be a strong enough word. What’s a stronger word for hate? Loathe? Detest? I’m not sure, but to my core, I feel it. I don’t know which rogue from the Syndicate killed Lexia. The bastard is still alive among the rogues that currently follow Noya, for all I know. And that keeps me up at night, wondering if her killer is still out there and knowing I’ll never know.

She asked as Micheal looked down at his uncle before looking back at his mother, who noticed the sudden darkness that invaded her son's eyes. "Oh, him, nothing really, I just choked the life out of him until I realized that it was not worth killing him because I'm not a murder like him, so I let go," he replied as Marissa's face went pale, "M-Murder?" She stuttered as Micheal raised an eyebrow. "Yes, isn't that what they call a person who kills another person, a murder," Micheal responded as Marissa tried to stay calm and collected.

I had never killed even an animal, why would he call me a murderer? "M... Murderer?" I asked again. "Why do you look so surprised?" he asked, "You are a murderer and you know that, and you know you have done," he added, "Stop feigning ignorance," he went on. I would take anything, but not him putting a stain to my name, "I don't know what you are talking about," I retorted, "I didn't kill anyone, I don't know what you are saying," I went on.

The city seemed to hold its breath, as if anticipating the reckoning that was about to unfold. Finally, Alpha Lorcan caught sight of his prey, the murderer. The figure, now transformed into a wolf, darted through the narrow passages, desperate to escape the wrath that pursued him. With each stride, Alpha Lorcan closed the distance, his instincts guiding him unerringly towards his target.

“You didn’t stop when they begged you, did you?” In the next second, there are a dozen faces before me, swimming around me like a merry-go-round. Taunting me. Mocking me. Their names are unknown but their faces I will remember until the day I die. Faces of those I’ve killed. “You’re a murderer.” “You’re a monster.” No! “You shouldn’t have run away from me. I wouldn’t have made you hold a gun.” “I would have protected you.” Lies! “But, I’ll have you, my sweet. You will be mine soon.”

There is a killer on the loose, a psychopath with a distinctive pattern; he or she either does not at all like getting their hands dirty, or they commit crimes and leave other people to take the fall. A poisoning, a murder, and a suicide? That is too much of a coincidence. Find the killer before they strike again!'

I froze. "I killed someone, and that person I killed back there wasn't my first too." I gulped and felt like I was going to pass out any minute now. I pursed my lips and stood up, muttering the words I never thought I'd mutter. "You're a murderer, Jay Emerson." His eyes widened and pain flashed through it, "Don't..." He closed his eyes, "Don't call me that." "What? It doesn't mean that you're a crazy lunatic that I can't continue calling you by your name!"

And I can't help but not forget it. She's calling me a murderer. She's disgusted to be close to a murderer. To be touched by a killer. Yes I am a fucking killer. I know that. I haven't done it once, not twice , I have done it so many times that I don't even have the count of people that got buried because of me.

"Could it be... In fact, the murderer only killed my college classmate and then attacked her. The second case and the first case were not committed by the same person!" George raised his eyebrows and asked, "What do you mean?" He was curious about what Sigrid said. "Haven't you heard of copycat crimes? It's an imitation of someone else's modus operandi. However, it would test the ability of the second murderer. After all, the timing of two homicide cases is only two to three hours. The second murderer would have to prepare the same tools as the first killer, in order to prevent others from being suspicious." George smiled and said, "So, it's not realistic."

I take a moment to get a grasp of what he's saying when I do why eyes widen slightly and I think I might throw up. "She was the third victim," I say, the realization settling like ice in my stomach. "Bingo!" Edward grins, actually grins, like we're playing a game and I've finally caught on. "Though I don't like the word 'victim.' Implies they didn't deserve it. I prefer 'sinners.' Yes, that's much better. Sinners. That's what they are." My grip on the gun tightens. Everything in me wants to pull the trigger. Wants to end this. End him.