Fan Fiction ❯ Checkmate ❯ Stupidity ( Chapter 4 )

People are stupid. It's quite an obvious statement, I know. It's been obvious to me all of my life. My own mother couldn't even add two plus two. She insists that it's five, even now. Of course, I haven't seen her in months, so I wouldn't know if she still says that. Most likely, she does.

Then there's my father. He's an idiot, plain and simple. He can't do anything right: write neatly, spell correctly, or even hold a paper down while he's attempting to write on it. He doesn't know how to pick up a phone, he can't sit in a chair right, he can't hold a fork. You get the picture, I'm sure.

I've always been surrounded by stupidity. All of my friends were air heads. I can't even remember why I was friends with them. Maybe because my parents were so dumb, and I was used to the idiotic banter that my parents used. My friends never said anything meaningful, either. My life was almost pointless.

And, so, because people are dumb, no one has managed to catch me yet. Sometimes I've left the most obvious clues, on purpose, just to see if anyone would figure it out. No one did. Why? Because they can't find their ass with both hands and a damn flashlight, that's why.

Even in my last killing, I left one of my knives there. One of my goddamn knives. But no one seemed to even notice it until the autopsy was done. I even remember the news flash. "Knife from the Checkmate Killer protruding from the middle of latest victim's chest during the autopsy. More about this later." Such idiots. They wouldn't even analyze my fingerprints, which I made sure where on the knife.

Of course I want to get catch. Why wouldn't I? The thought of being taken to a jail and getting locked up almost excites me. Why? Because then I can escape. Then I'll be even more infamous. I'd be on the loose again. And then they'd have to track me down. Again. I simply love the thought of it.

I've had some very stupid victims. One didn't even know that I was going to kill him until he had the knife across his throat. It was then that he began to scream, but it only came out at a pathetic gurgling noise, and the air whistled through the hole in his neck. He died then, still disbelieving that anything was going to happen. So stupid.

Then there was the woman who thought I was coming onto her. I was in her room, at her home, in the middle of the night, I had broken in, and she still thought I was there to seduce her. I tied her to the bed, like some other victims, because she kept getting up and trying to feel me. It annoyed me so much.

As I pulled out the knife, she purred out, "Ooohhh, what are you going to do with that?" Really pathetic. I wanted to slash her to bits, for she irritated me so goddamn much. But I restrained myself, even when she batted her eyes at me and called me "honey."

Finally, though, when I stabbed her stomach, she figured out that I wasn't going to sleep with her. She screamed in such terror, but, since she was tied so tightly to the bed, she couldn't really writhe in pain, or anything, like she probably wanted to. After a knife into her left eye, she died. Plain and simple, she died on the spot. I was hoping that she'd suffer more, stupid bitch. But she didn't, and she's dead, so that's all that matters.

And, then, there was my stupidest victim ever. He thought I was his mother. His damn mother. He kept asking me to get him a glass of milk. I doubt that he was retarded or disabled or something, just a momma's boy who couldn't see in the dark. Even though the light was on.

When I took out my knife, he thought it was a piece of candy or something. He reached and grabbed the blade, which I sharpen after every victim, so it cut his hand quite deeply. Even so, he kept squeezing the damn thing, saying, "I want it. Give it to me. Mom!" He was like a kid. A goddamn kid. I've never killed a child, since they'd probably die too quickly under my blade. And I can't have that. My victims must die slowly, painfully.

Anyway, when I finally pulled my knife from his grasp, it was easy to see that his hand was gouged to the bone. There was even white showing through. He didn't even notice it at first. He finally did, though, when he wiped the back of his hand across his nose. He looked at the blood and bone, his face crumpled, and he cried.

Then he sat there, bawling, screaming for me to say that I was sorry. All the while, he was flinging his hand around, spreading blood everywhere. He finally began to weaken, and began demanding that I get him a glass of milk. Just like before. I wanted to just put my knife in his heart, and hack it to bits, but, before I could even get the thought through my head, he passed out. His eyes just closed in the middle of a sentence, and he fell back into his bloody pillow, blood still oozing from his hand.

I left then. It wasn't worth it to kill him after he passed out. He was losing blood by the minute, anyway, and couldn't have lasted much longer. Of course, the story was on the news, and I was blamed, though I don't care, even to this day. They suspected me, even though I hadn't left my signature. For once, people thought about something in depth.

I can't stand stupid victims anymore. They bug me too much. I never even stalked my stupid victims, because it wasn't worth it. I just watched them for about one night each, and then swept in and killed them. I hate stupid people so much, but I can't kill them, for they don't even know what I'm doing until I do it. And I can't stand that, for my victims need to suffer, and know what`s going to happen. So, "no more stupid people" is my only rule.

A/N: Short and stupid chapter. I don't really like it. Oh, well.

*shameless plug* The next chapter of my newest horror story, "Maison de Chagrin" will be up on Friday. Please read and review the prologue and first chapter. Please? And this, too, please? *makes big eyes* Thanks to those who have reviewed the previous chapters!