Fan Fiction ❯ Checkmate ❯ Guns ( Chapter 6 )

I don't like guns. They're too loud for my liking. If I killed someone with a gun, a passer-by might hear the shot, or a neighbor, even (though I would have made sure that neighbors on both sides of the chosen victim would have been gone that night if I killed someone with a gun), and then call the police. Though I want to get caught now, I didn't back when I first started killing. If I had been caught, then I couldn't have become so infamous, or experimented and killed so many people.

One might think that the reason that I don't like guns is because I had a horrific experience where someone close to was hurt or killed by a gun, but no. Just no. I've never had any sort of experience with guns at any time of my life. Basically, they're just too loud.

Of course, I was almost influenced by the propaganda about guns. I'm too smart to even bother with that shit for even two seconds. When I was younger, though, I did see a lot of ads for guns on television, magazines, newspapers, everywhere. I lived in a small town in my youth. The town was densely populated, but most of the people in the town were still hunters. So, since gun sales were high in the town, there was much propaganda.

My father owned a gun. He was a big hunting fan. He hunted in and out of hunting season. No one really cared, though, since everyone hunted year round in the town. The DNR never really checked on us ever, so no one got into trouble.

Even though I said before that I never had a horrific experience where a gun killed a person I cared for, someone I knew did get killed by a gun. I was there when it happened. The person was "a friend," and we were walking down the street, not talking, not touching, not even walking next to each other. Suddenly, there was a bang behind us, and my "friend" grasped his chest, and crumpled to the ground. After that, I don't remember much, except the blood around him.

Though I saw a death in my early years, I didn't understand the meaning of it until I became older. That's really why my obsession with it didn't start until I was a teenager. I can't believe that I used to not understand death. I'm very glad that I do now.

Now, though I've said that I don't like guns over and over again, there has been one victim that I killed with a gun. I didn't plan to do this, though. It happened kind of fast, I guess. I knew that guy had a gun, but I just didn't really think he'd use it. Most people are too scared to do anything when I arrive.

When I snuck into his house, he must of heard me, and pulled the gun from the drawer, because, when I entered his room, he was sitting in his bed, pointing his small handgun at me. He said something to me, but I couldn't hear exactly what it was, since he more mumbled than said it. Then he pulled the trigger.

Of course, I jumped out of the way, and the bullet just grazed my arm, only drawing a little blood. Then I quickly moved over towards him, and grabbed the gun. I didn't get a chance to pull a knife or anything, because he looked like he was about ready to fire again.

Once I had the gun, I was going to throw it out the window, or something, but then he tried to get it back. I really couldn't believe that this was happening, since I was sure that he would be surprised by me, and I'd just kill him, like usual. No one's ever fought back.

Finally, though, I regained my sense, and pulled out one of my knives. I thrust it into his right hand, and he screamed in pain, pulling only his right arm back, but not his left. I raised the knife one more, and put it in his left hand. He didn't really flinch, like he did with the other hand. He did let go after awhile, since the blood oozing from his wound made it difficult to hang onto the gun.

Then, just when I was ready to kill him with my knife, he grabbed for his phone, like he was going to call the police. This guy was really starting to annoy me. I couldn't let him call the police, and have them come and capture me. I didn't want that to happen yet. I had plans for that to happen later, not with this victim.

So, then, I raised the gun and fired. Bad shot, though, because it didn't hit the right place. I shot again and again, without really looking where I was shooting. Finally, when I gun ran out of bullets, I looked up to see the guy, sprawled out on his bed, blood covering his whole body. He was still holding the phone, prepared to dial. I laughed when I saw that.

Grabbing a piece of paper off of the guy's night stand, I wrote a longer note than usual. "My ninety ninth victim. Who will be lucky one hundred? Checkmate." I dropped the note onto the man's dead body, and left his house quickly, just in case somebody heard the shots. I took the gun with me.

So, now, I have killed almost one hundred people. And now, I've made my plans for the last one. I will be caught this time. The killing will happen during the day.

How's it going to happen is this: I lure some random person off of the busiest street in town, take them into an alley, and shoot them. Right during the time when the most people are on the street. The plan, at first, didn't involve a gun, but, now that I have it, I'll use it. I bought some more bullets at a store downtown. Nobody even noticed me there.

So, finally, I will have my one hundredth victim. And I will be caught. It will be so much fun, because, after I've been given my life without parole in prison, I'll escape. I can't say how, and I can't say when, to you, at least, but I will. And I was be even more infamous.

A/N: And the last chapter in our murderess' point of view. The next chapter will be the last chapter, and will be in third person. Then there will be an epilogue about our girl, and will also be in third person.

I wish I could do mor chapters than that, but, I must say, I've run out of ideas. So, this will end. All good things have to come to an end, right? Well, this does, too, but it might not be a good thing.

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