The Unexpected

Prologue

“I am innocent!” I cry. There are people on the other side of the glass staring at me. Their eyes are cold; distant, they look at me like I am the devil. Do these people staring at me know they are watching an innocent man’s final minutes? The jail attendants have me strapped to a hard cold table like an animal. “HELP I AM INNOCENT!” I scream waiting for someone to hear me, waiting for compassion, waiting for someone to realize they have caught the wrong man. I struggle with the straps trying uselessly to get free. I want out of these straps, outside of these grey concrete walls, where no one can stare at me and judge me. I want to be free. “I am INNOCENT! I deserve to be FREE!” I scream as the jail attendants give each other looks. They think I am insane, they think I deserve to die on this table for something I have not done! The needle pierces my arm. It is too late now. In a few minutes as I was told would happen, the anaesthetic will put me to sleep the pancuronium stops my diaphragm from allowing me to breathe than the potassium will stop my heart from beating. I will soon meet my cruel death and all these people will have caused an innocent man to lose his life.

Blood

With my pitchfork in one hand I force her to get out of the truck. She is still blinded by the old rag I tied around her eyes. I place my pitchfork at her back and tell her to “take a few steps straight we’re almost there”.
“Wh—er—e a—re...”The girl whimpers
I cut her stupidity off “You will see” She tenses but does not try to run. She doesn’t know she has nowhere to run to. Beyond the farm there is only a river which she would quickly drown in, there is no one in this little area, just me, and her. If she wants to run she wouldn’t get a mile until she got lost in the wheat fields under a fall nights sky. If she tried anything I could easily kill her with this pitchfork, right here, right now, but where is the fun in that. We reach the barns door “Reach in front of you and lift the bar.” She does as I said without question; this is the control that I desire. The door opens. I hold my pitchfork with two hands and push her with the handle knocking her on to the cold dirty ground still wet with the blood of my last victim. I close the barn behind me creating complete control as she lays on the ground whimpering. I take off the rag and start to have my fun. I pull back my pitchfork and slash her across the leg. She lets out a high pitch scream of absolute terror as her blood starts oozing from her. This cut making my senses tingle with the desire for more of this delicious blood. “Nobody can here you!” I scream at her as I take another strike this time to her stomach this makes for a better show. I am careful not to cut too deeply yet. This cut is a bit deeper; the deep ruby red blood comes pouring out. Some of the intestines *are torn and sticking out. I plunge my pitchfork into her arm and take it out. She is left unconscious on the ground, at this point she won’t have much time left. I stab her chest deeply hearing the cracking sound of her rib cage these were the final seconds of this girl’s miserable life.

Bodies in the River

“Policemen and Policewomen, I want everyone in the conference room now!” Shouts Ethan, the Chief of Police.
“What does he want?” I ask another police officer.
“Whatever it is it’s not going to be pretty. Ethan normally looks like a pretty tough guy with being 6 ft and being built but I have never seen him look this intimidating before, we better get in that conference room A.S.A.P.” I walked thought the halls with the other policemen, some with confused looks upon their faces, the senior officers with pure fear in their faces. The other policeman was right. I have never seen Ethan so angry in the five years I have been here. His typical expression is like he was about to rip someone’s head of unless he is with his two daughters. The last time I saw him somewhat close to this is when he found out both his daughters were dating the same drug dealer. We line the conference room each with dread on our faces this news cannot be anything good.
“The senior levels of officers know some details about this case, from the juniors we tried to keep our fears hidden as long as we could. We were hoping we had nothing to worry about, but we have confirmed it today that we have a serial killer loose in Woodbridge. We have found five bodies along the main river. All of the girls were blonde; blue eyed around 5’4, and went to Woodbridge High School their ages range from a junior in high school to a freshman in university. We are taking this matter very seriously. We contacted the Behaviour Analysis Unit better known as the BAU to come. They will be flying out tonight and they have asked us to keep the story out of the press for as long as possible until we know what we are looking for. I would like to double patrols particularly on Friday and Saturday nights because the serial killer seem to be preying on intoxicated females. Since tonight is a Wednesday in November we hopefully will not have too many difficulties. Keep extra security along the bars that most of the college kids go to. I want the serial killer behind bars as quickly as we can, spearing as many lives as possible. I know I do not have to remind Wyatt and other fathers on this squad the importance of this case. I will anyways. Policemen and policewomen think of your daughters, sisters, nieces and friends while this killer is on the loose they are all in danger. I know I said we want to keep this out of the public eye; I am not going to stop anyone from warning their daughters to keep careful, with people and most importantly sober.” Ethan informs us.
Ethan was a family man through and through so is Wyatt the Captain of this station and they both looked scared. I know their daughters from the photos which they have hanging in their offices the three of them are blonde, blue eyed and if I had to guess from those photographs I would suspect around 5’4 they were what the serial killer were looking for to fulfil whatever their sick need was. As I was leaving the conference room I heard my name being called “Alexander” I turned around to see Wyatt “You are good with computers right Alexander?” I nodded I was the resident geek at the station. “We would like you to look at any facebook, myspace or any other social network and see if there is anyone who connects all these girls together.
“Of course, anything I can do to help find the killer. What are the victims’ names?”
“Samantha Jacobs, Hanna MacDonald, and Kelsey Simon” Wyatt tells me with a teary look in his eyes. I glance over to Ethan who has a similar solemn look. The only reason this could be is if their daughters were friends with these girls which became apparent when I started going though their facebook page. I started doing general searches but everyone in town would come up than I made more specific ones. This took me most of the afternoon to set up.
“I am off to go home now. The computer is running its programs you should have names of who is most connected with them in the morning. Goodnight. If you need me to go on parole or anything just give me a call.” I say to Wyatt as I left for my long journey home.

Capturing Control

I see her. She is staggering out of the bar. Her long blonde hair is shimmering under the florescent street light. This brings out the blue in her eyes. She can’t be more than 5’3 she looks just as she once did long ago. I open the door of my truck and run up to her from behind as silently as I can. I grab her, first covering her mouth with my right arm so no scream can be let out. I take control of her body by lifting her up by using my other hand to grab her waist. I bring her to the truck. As she still faces away from me I cover her eyes by tying the old blue rag, now dirty with splotches of red blood over her eyes. I place her in the back seat and tie her hands in front of her leaving her with the inability to escape. I lock her side door just in case and head over to the driver’s side and jump in to make the long drive to the barn.
I make her walk to the barn and open the door like I have a few times before. I do this with ease; I have complete and total control over her. I make her take her own blindfold off and take the first swing of the pitchfork. The three prongs drive right into her leg, splitting her flesh, muscle and bones apart. She lets out a loud piercing scream which makes me want more. I pull out the pitchfork out of her broken useless leg and then drive it into her other fresh leg with no marks in it yet. I hear the familiar bone cracking sound; see the beautiful blood poor out of her flesh. She couldn't let out a scream this time; on her face I see the look of pain, terror and willingness. Her willingness to do anything that I say to keep me from hurting her again. I pierce her arm, than her other arm in fury. The blood, the rush—I wanted to capture the look on her face forever. The look that shows that she is completely in my control. I grab my camera and take a photo of her face. Her face would remain in the same expression after I take one final drive of the pitchfork right into her neck ending her life.

An Old Foe

I arrive at work and see the look of panic, fear, and sadness across my co-workers faces. From their faces I know that another young girl must have lost their lives due to that creepy serial killer. I rush to my cubical to check the results of my overnight electronic search. I open up my computer and scan though the findings on my search. Then I saw his name and photo appear on the screen and at once knew he must have been involved in the killings. I printed out the photo even though it was unneeded and headed right to the conference room where I knew Wyatt and Ethan were preparing for the BAU's arrival. I knocked on the door and was beckoned in.
“Ethan, Wyatt I found the results of the search and you are not going to like it, it is Aiden Smith.” I tell them as I watch the horror arise on their face. Wyatt’s daughter Abigail and Ethan's daughters Alexis and Brianna both dated him.
“What is his connection between him and the victims? Ethan asked with the fear across his face.
“He dated each of the victims, I have not checked the most recent victim yet but once I have a name I can check it.” Ethan and Wyatt looked as if their worst fears have been realized. They beckon me to a laptop that was set up in the office.
“Her name is Anne Mahoney” Wyatt told me. In less than two minutes of my search I find that she was also in fact a past girlfriend of Aiden. I give them a nod. “Ethan I know you also want to go rip this kid's head off but we have to wait for the BAU to arrive before we make any decisions, this includes telling our daughters to be careful.” Ethan solemnly nods, his brows furrows, and you can tell it is taking all his mental strength from rushing out of the office and finding this creep.
I was sent to patrol the streets for the afternoon. When I arrived the BAU was there and ready to give a profile of the serial killer. Once again we lined the halls of the conference room. The man releasing the profile to us was aged and you could see the experiences that emotionally scared him in his eyes. “Okay this is our profile of the unidentified subject or as we call it an unsub. This profile is not exact but it gives us a good indication on who the killer is. This unsub is an disorganized serial killer which means he has a low IQ, he commits crimes impulsively as you know the times and location these women are being taken from change same with the way he attacks them, he will kill someone if he gets an opportunity that is why we are going to release a press statement for people to travel in packs, he will attack fast and suddenly. The victim has no warning he is going to attack them and as we know he only keeps the body for a night he mutilates the victim with a pitchfork and we believe he is taking the heart either to consume or keep.”
“Excuse me; did you say he eats the victims' heart? Are we dealing with a cannibal?” I ask.
“Yes it is likely to be a cannibal. Serial killers sometimes are cannibals. It is their way of keeping their victim with them. This often means the serial killer was abandoned as a child. These serial killers do not tend to cover up their tracks and have little incite to their crimes, some of these serial killers are not even aware that they commit these crimes.”
“Could you imagine being a serial killer and not knowing it” I hear another officer whisper.
“We also have another classification of the type of serial killer it could be which is a Power/Control killer. The unsub wishes to gain power over their victim, they were abused as children, they take souvenirs and take photos of their victims so they can hold their victims for years to come. We believe we have a possible suspect and we will be taking him into custody once we locate him. His name is Aiden Smith. If you see him pick him up for questioning” They display a mug shot that was taken of him one of the many times he was arrested, he is 6 feet with dark curly hair, black soulless eyes and an eyebrow piercing.

Owning Her Heart

I take her heart out of her chest. I cut out the warm heart that was beating only a few minutes ago. Now it is stopped never to be started again, this heart is now mine. It belongs to me. I leave the barn and cross the grass toward the old farm house. The farm house was once white but now it has faded and the paint chips are peeling off the house. The large once inviting windows are now broken and intimidating. I walk up the steps of the porch careful to not make the steps creak out of habit. Before there was someone to hear me, but no more. She will never hear me again. I wipe one of my hands off on my shirt so as I turn the brass door knob blood will not be placed on it. I walk though the empty hallway and turn left into the kitchen which even the smell of fresh blood couldn't mask the smell of decomposing food. I place the heart on a plate on the table which has been used serval times now. I pick up the knife and fork and cut into the heart. I take my first delicious bite of her.

Can’t Keep Him

I walk into the viewing of the interrogation room. “Here have a coffee, you look terrible, I guess we all haven’t been getting much sleep with this case unsolved, but I am confident we have the killer here. We still allowed him to get another girl though. They found her body this morning in the same place.” Wyatt solemnly informs me to me.
“Why are we so confident that it is him? I know he has done terrible things in the past, but is a twenty one year old capable of this?” I ask
“He fits all the marks of our unsub and those of teenage serial killers.” Wyatt explains to me. Throughout this interview it made sense. He started killing animals at a young age and enjoyed the experience, he was abused by his father and his mother abandoned him at a young age. He was unintelligent, appears creepy and is aggressive.
“I tell you I didn’t commit any of those crimes. I know I don’t have a solid alibi! But who does at 3 am in the morning? I was at a lot of those parties where the girls were picked up. So were the rest of the teenagers in this town including many of the policeman’s daughters! Including yours and the captain’s daughter. You can’t pin this on me!” Aiden pleaded.
“Brianna Alexis and Abigail do not go out to these ridiculously stupid parties! They are good children that know the dangers of getting drunk and wouldn't make this mistake!” Ethan told Aiden though gridded teeth.
“Are you sure about that?” Aiden snickers. “Either way, I will be out of here by the morning!” Aiden stated.
“It’s true; we can only keep this sick bastard here for another 18 hours than we have to let him go. We have nothing to hold him on! We don’t even have any old files on him” Wyatt says with anger on his face.

Retaliation

I see her, in the darkness. She is walking away from someone else’s house where there had been a huge party going on. She is stumbling away from the people, the noise into the darkness. This is my chance. I can get her here. She is mine; she is just like she was a long time ago. With her blue eyes, blonde hair, short stature. She can’t hurt me this time. I can only hurt her. I run up behind her and place my hand over her mouth, the other on her waist. I attempt to carry her back to my car. She fights back. She attempts to kick me. She attempts to scream but my hand is still placed firmly over her mouth. This sparked an idea; I remove my hand from her waist and place it around her throat. I deny access of air to her lungs. She eventually passes out. With this one I take no risks in putting her in the seat of my truck, I open the cover of the trunk and then pull down the back and place her unconscious body in. I hear sirens and I rush closing the top to cover up the girl, close the back and rush to drive away. I hope I latched everything correctly. I speed away from the scene as quickly as possible.
Missing
Wyatt barged into the office screaming. “ETHAN! Ethan! Have you seen Abigail? I have no clue where she is! She didn’t come home last night. I called everyone. They have no idea where she is. My baby, I want my baby girl. I know Aiden is in jail and everything should be okay. But—what if we were wrong? What if it’s not him and some creep has my daughter?” His green eyes was clouded with tears. His eighteen year old daughter Abigail meant the world to him. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to her. At that moment several officers leave to go on patrol to find his daughter. Some of which only just got back from an all night shift.
Myself, I run to my car and drive along some of the back streets praying, hoping to return Abigail back safely to her father. I drove down a dirt road and that is where I see her body. I am hoping that she is alright. Her body is lying along the side of the road. Her blonde hair out at odd angles and stained with the horrific color of blood. I stop my car and run out. She is breathing but unconscious. She is badly beaten up but alive. I radio the station "Wyatt. I got her. She is alive but she looks really bad. Get an ambulance up to Water Creak Street. My car is on the centre of the road.”

Gun Control

The night has fallen, I am driving down the residential streets. I see her, stumbling like she did many years ago. Someone calls out “Alexis” which must be her name because she turns around. She waits a minute and then walks into the darkness. It is time to take her. I have to be smarter this time. I cannot let her get away. I take my gun out of my glove compartment and leave the truck. I go up to her and stick the gun into her back and cover her mouth with my hand. “If you scream I will shoot you” I tell her as I direct her to my truck. I tie her hands to the back of the seat and make my long drive to the barn.

Emergency

“9-1-1 what's your emergency” the phone operated responded as she picked up the ringing phone.
“I need to speak to the chief of police imminently his daughter Alexis had been taken by the serial killer!” cries the girl on the other end.
“He is in the hospital right now. I will call him and make a conference call.” The operator pushes on the buttons and connected the lines. “Ethan this girl is on the line, she is saying that the serial killer has taken your daughter.”
“I am so, so sorry. She was leaving the party, I yelled at her because I wanted you to come pick her up. I know you don't know that she drinks—but with everything that’s going on I hoped she wouldn't walk alone. I sent Gerry to go out with his car—he was sober to find her when she didn't pick her cell phone and he found it in the middle of the street. I am scared! The serial killer must have her he's going to hurt her!” Ethan hangs up the phone. He collapses crying into a chair.
“Ethan, what’s wrong?” Wyatt askes not moving from the side of his unconscious child.
“Alexis, he's got her. We have no leads, all the men are looking. I feel so helpless.” Ethan respons though his tears. As he says this Abigail starts to sit up. She looks hurt and confused.
“Barn near cottage” she mumbled. “Barn near cottage.”
“Nurse! She's awake.” cries Wyatt with relief.
“Barn near cottage. What do you mean by that?” Ethan presses looking desperately for information that will lead him to his daughter.
“The red truck...like the one near cottage...was on the street. We were ridding toward the cottage—we must have been it was so bumpy. It has to be that truck!” Abigail whispers in her confused state.
“It makes sense for where she was found!” Ethan cries as he jumped to his feet. “Abigail was found on root. Wyatt we have to go, it is on the other end of the river where the bodies were found! It is a quiet and isolated place. We have to go find my baby Alexis.” Without words, Ethan and Wyatt leave. Wyatt kisses his daughter and wife lovingly as he left.

Loss of Control

I lead her into the barn as I did many times before. The difference this time the gun is my weapon of choice but not for long. Soon I will switch over to my pitchfork to make my damage. I tell her to “Open the door”. She hesitates. “Open the door mom!” I command her. She opens the door and mutters something. I push her to the floor and grab the pitchfork lying on the ground. “You are a terrible mother!” I scream as I rip her arm open with the pitchfork.
“I AM NOT YOUR MOTHER!” She screams. “Leave me alone my dad is going to come and get you” She antagonizes me. No one can find me ever. She is full of lies—terrible lies.
“You’re a liar! You are my mother and you made my father leave! He abandoned me all because of you!” I yell as I pierce her leg with the pitchfork and blood pores out of her broken leg. She gives me a look of pity and disgust. Then she looks away. “Look at me!” I say hitting her head with the bar holding the pitchfork together. She will not remain under control; I was going to make her be under my control. If it was the last thing I did. I keep on cutting her skin with the pitchfork causing her terrible pain. I want to make her fear me; I want to be in full control.

Disbelief

“Put your hands up and step away from her now!” Ethan yells as he enters the room followed by Wyatt. He did not dare to look at his daughter; he needs to get this creep in handcuffs before he can face what might have happened to his daughter. Ethan could only see the back of the Serial Killer’s head. It looked oddly familiar. He raises his pitchfork and is about to drive it into Alexis when Ethan runs up behind him and tackles him to the ground. Wyatt runs to help Ethan as the serial killer and he is wrestling for the pitchfork. Wyatt grabbles the pitchfork and pulls it out of the hands of the Serial Killer—Alexander. Ethan put handcuffs on Alexander and attaches him to an old water pipe the side of the barn. Wyatt was still staring with disbelief.
“Wyatt radio for an ambulance to come now, Alexis is really hurt!” Ethan cries as he runs to the side of his daughter. Alexis was badly cut in many places and is losing a lot of blood. She mutters “sorry” to her father as she passes out in his lap.
As soon as they arrived at the hospital Alexis gets rushed to surgery. Wyatt and Ethan are stuck in the waiting room. “I can’t believe that Alexander would do such a thing, he was a strange kid, but to commit so many murders. To hurt our daughters. I can’t believe it” Wyatt confides in Ethan.

“I am having the officers do a background check on him and an investigation. There is one thing I know that is not the Alexander we knew,” Ethan responded as his cell phone rang. “Hello,--okay, wow—he is sent there—trial in a couple of months okay” Ethan responds to the person on the other end of the phone. “That was the station, Alexander or I should say Daniel is his birth name and his other identity. Alexander had muliti-personality disorder. His name was Daniel as a child and once he developed Alexander he changed his name. He was physically abused as a child by his father who also abused his wife. His mother abused him and became the role these women played in his sick game; they had the same physical features. He killed his mother the same way a month before we found the first body”
“Wow to think that a police officer, someone we knew, someone we trusted. Had a completely separate identity...”

Epilogue

I walk into the room with confidence and no regrets. There are people on the other side of the glass staring at me. Their eyes are cold; distant they look at me like I am the devil. These people just wish they had the guts, the power, and the control to do what I did. The jail attendants have me strapped to a hard cold table. The grey concrete walls, and these straps can bind me to these chairs but nothing can take away what I have The jail attendants give each other looks, they know that executing me will change nothing. They wish they could have done what I have done. Kill those who have hurt them. The needle pierces my arm. I look over into the viewing window and see a few blondes and I only wish I had more time to finish them off. Unfortunately in a few minutes as I was told would happen, the anaesthetic will put me to sleep the pancuronium stops my diaphragm from allowing me to breathe than the potassium will stop my heart from beating. I will soon die and no longer be able to enforce my will unto others but there will be others that follow in my path.