The Delusions of Maurice Abercrombie

Abercrombie ran a hand over his face, smiling at the feeling of blood welling at his knees. The knife he had used was deep in his victim's throat, cutting off any protests with gurgles as her lungs were filled with the thick liquid. He leaned forward and pulled the knife out of her, staring at the blood spraying from the stab wound. His laughter was gone, replaced with an empty feeling.

He pressed the blade to her arms, cutting various shapes into her skin. The excitement of killing someone was only there for a short time, only a millisecond of the actual killing. His face was void of any emotion as he stared at the still writhing body below him, which weakly clutched at her throat in an attempt to stop the bleeding, despite all the other cuts on her arms and legs.

The metallic scent of blood was reassuring to him. It meant that something was wrong, and that idea made him feel okay about everything that happened in his own life.

His father had gotten into a car wreck and died when he was seven.

His brother shot himself after attempting to kill his ex girlfriend when he was twelve.

His sister never lived and will never be able to.

His mother hung herself as he watched, a year and two months ago.

A normal person would suffer and either try to commit suicide or get a therapist, but Maurice wasn't exactly normal. At first, he thought he was, but being singled out because of who he was made him realize he was, in fact, fucked in the head.

The girl's corpse burned nicely in the fire Abercrombie set up in a ditch far from his small cottage in the mostly barren woods. He watched the flames char her skin until it was melting and peeling off her body. Maurice didn't care to watch for the entire time, but he wasn't enough of an idiot to leave evidence, so he waited until all that was left was her bones, which he broke apart with his bones before scattering them around in bushes and under the roots of trees if he found any that didn't already have bones deposited there. He covered the bones with dust and dirt to make them look like they weren't just set there by a serial killer.

He looked around for a few seconds before heading for home.