Weepy-voiced Killer Novels & Stories

The professional killer – the best money could buy – looked pathetically small under Serena’s wrath. “You promised me perfection!” she snarled. “A clean kill, a perfect frame. Instead, you let yourself be caught on camera like an amateur!” “I destroyed all the security cameras—” He couldn’t finish his statement. Another glass flew, finding its mark. “Don’t give me that sorry look. I asked you to kill him and blame it on that Hayes bastard son, yet you gave away your face instead of doing the job perfectly.” “I broke all the security cameras before I carried the job done. I killed him after he called Mr. Hayes to meet him on the phone. Everything went as planned. He got arrested, but I didn’t

I go to my seat and put my bag there. “You asshole! How could you think of something like that? We are family here! We are not just classmates but a family. No one can be a killer to us. I know we are not too good but killing someone? Heck, we cherish each other here, Clark! Open your mind and stop thinking that one of us is a killer! Think, dude. One last time that I will hear you are thinking like that, I will punch you until you vomit blood,” Ace said madly.

“We are going to still the identity of the killer. Although this series of murders has not been confirmed to be a serial killing because there are no other evidences that proves that it is other than the butcher knife, we are going to make it look like what it is. One of us, someone who can manipulate his voice and make it deeper and bigger, will pretend like he is the serial killer. He will report it. I will provide you the words you have to say, but please, among you three, decide who is going to take the role.” “I think I can do it.” Janvic raised his hand. Wasn’t it ironic? A while ago, he was regretting for following all the way here, but now here he was, helping Travis Exposito and tak

The woman's once pretty face was now filled with dirt. "Hi, Ma'am. I'm detective Catharine from Paradiso City Police Department or PCPD. I just want to ask how you find the victim. Don't worry we won't harm you. Instead we would try our best and bring you to custody." Catharine managed to calm her voice. A pair of green eyes looked up to her. She really is shaken but nevertheless managed to speak. "M-man. Black. Blue eyes. E-eency W-weency song," the woman said. After she said this, a song suddenly plays out of nowhere. It's a nursery rhyme. The title, Catharine is sure of, is Eency Weency Spider.

But, no, with all the common sense bestowed upon the human race from the higher ones, my best move was to freeze. Just stand there, frozen like a stick. Turn around. And, look my damned killer in the eyes. “Indigo…” Only, that my ‘killer’ is not in front of my face. I had turned around with such sharpness and alertness to face nothing. Nothing, but stray leaves swaying in the breezy, lone air and dancing against the sidewalks. Nobody is there.

“This is what loyalty to Kyrie Veylor buys you.” Then I flicked open my lighter. The flame hissed to life, hungry, eager. I pressed it to the wet stump inside his mouth. The smell of seared flesh filled the air, and his screams went silent as he convulsed, eyes rolling white. The crowd flinched, but none looked away. They knew better. I let him collapse sideways, choking on his own blood, twitching like a slaughtered animal. Then I picked up my smooth, polished pistol. A piece of death that Kyrie would’ve held clean and professional.

that voice made me look and I saw two werewolves in human form. The one I met earlier has dark hair, blue eyes, a pointed nose, dark red lips, sculpted jaw, and fair skin. The one whose voice is unfamiliar to me seemed to be more mysterious. He has grey hair, silver eyes, a pointed nose, pale lips, sculpted jaw, and fairer skin than the other one. I coughed and realized that my hands are tied and all I can do is sit. “Just kill me,” I muttered and sit. I now have a broader sight of where I am.

Both Mowry and I shouted at the same time, the family of three screamed upon seeing how fast our man was killed, they were shocked. Mowry got down to her knees looking at the dead man with blurry eyes, her lips were trembling "He…he was going to become a father, you just made an innocent child an orphan you assholes!!!" She screamed loudly, her hands took a full amount of sand from the floor and threw it to their faces. "Now Elva!" She then signaled me as the rogues were distracted, cursing and rubbing sand from their eyes. Mowry went for the first rogue.

"You're a lunatic, Victoria." I leaned against the window, watching the crowd pound on the glass. "But only lunatics are remembered, Agent." And this, all of this, was my masterpiece. The case exploded across the nation. Soon, the "Coma Killer" case was trending everywhere. [Former Art Prodigy Kills Ten: A Twisted Mind or a Deeper Conspiracy?] [Can a Person in a Coma Kill? Experts Weigh In on the Methods] The buzz on Twitter was hotter than the presidential election.

His voice, resonating with an air of confidence, spilled through the receiver like honey. "Everything is ready," he declared, his words a melodic prelude to the impending chaos. A smirk played on my lips as I responded, "Remember to tear open her chest. Don't worry about her safety; she won't die due to a mere injury." The words lingered in the air, a sinister symphony of cruelty that underscored the depth of my malevolence. Without waiting for a response, I terminated the call, leaving the weight of my instructions to hang in the abyss between us.