MURDER AND LOVE: A KILLER'S GUIDE

It's been 3 months since I killed Wilder and the compulsion that burned inside me had only gotten worse. Stalking Robert felt like both an outlet and a trap. Every night, before clocking out from work, I made sure Asher had no suspicion of where I was going, so I made sure I went home first before going back to Robert's. I parked near his home, the darkness of my car's interior blending into the shadowy streets. I knew his schedule by heart now: when he left for his meetings, returned, and wandered to the bar just a few blocks away from his office.

Tonight was no different. I sat in my car, eyes glued to the house, watching the faint glow of a television screen flicker against the curtains. My fingers tapped impatiently on the steering wheel, the urge to act clawing at me with a ferocity I couldn't contain much longer. Wilder's death had awakened something—a need so deep and primal that even fantasizing didn't quell it. I wanted—no, needed—to kill again.

But I couldn't be reckless again. Not after what happened with Nauthers.

 Betty on the other hand had refused to help me, only trying to deepen our "relationship". We hadn't done anything more after that night—though I enjoyed it. I am confused at this point, too confused to even think about sex. The impulse in me is growing and it's making me dream about things—things I don't feel I can say to anyone, and some of them involve her. 

I had checked the logbooks and figured Nauthers and Wilder had met numerous times already. And the day I killed him, he checked in. I think when he noticed he didn't come he decided to check his place. That's where he saw me and followed me, and now he wants me dead.

 I had made the mistake of not thinking of anyone close to him and what they might be capable of. I don't blame him. I would do the same if someone killed my family.

I had fewer nightmares now of my past traumas and more about killing, not just those types of men, I mean killing anything. I knew I had to do something about it before I did something I wouldn't be able to correct. I don't want to kill the innocent because if I start I don't think I would be able to control. That's why I need to make this the perfect kill. It would be slow, painful, and an experience he would never be able to forget even in the afterlife.

I smirked at my imagination of how I would slide the knife down his genitals. I startled as I heard a buzz from coming from inside the car.

"Fuck!" I hit my head on the window of my car. I reached out to grab my phone and see what that was about.

"Hey, I hope you are feeling better now." I text from Asher beamed at me as I stared at the screen of my phone. I groaned at the sight of it. He has been monitoring me ever since I came up with the excuse of having a cold. Our relationship these past few months changed—it had to change. I had to open up this fake side of me for me to gain his trust and stop following me. I can't risk it happening again.

He does believe he is getting somewhere with me, and he is a good guy though. He is funny, and smart, and—

"Wait, why I'm I thinking that" I snapped myself out of that stupid thought and focused back on Robert's house. The lights in the whole house had gone off. They had probably went to sleep. I checked the time on my watch. 12:30am. The kids usually fall asleep by 9pm, they were still very little—thank God for that.The nanny he hired—who he is having an affair with, goes to bed also around 10pm – 10:30pm. He still has custody of them but I heard her grandparents are trying to fight for them in court. They said he was a terrible father and husband. They were not wrong. They just don't know from what perspective. I had studied him for 3 months now.

From Monday to Friday, the nanny wakes up at 7am, takes care of the kids and takes them to school. He on the other hand, leaves home around 8am, heads to work till 5pm. By 5pm, he goes to an all elite club, where he leaves with a woman and they go do whatever in the hotel nearby. When its around 8pm to 9pm, he goes home, his kids already in bed. Then he and nanny stays together before she goes to sleep, and then finally he goes too.

Saturdays and Sundays schedule totally different. The kids usually go to Grandma and Grandpa place by then. Robert is set throughout Saturday by the golf course. He goes golfing from 9am to 4pm. Then by 4pm he goes home, and just stays there till Sunday. There were somedays he had things to do but I had the schedule.

Sundays. Since they are a church going family, He leaves for church at 8am and come back 12pm. The service doesn't last that long just an hour thirty minutes. The greetings and talking is what takes time. From the church, he goes over to the nanny's house and picks her up and they spend the whole day together. That gives me time to go to his house and gather all the info I need.

I know the time, place, and move of this guy. The only thing left is to pick out the time and location of the kill. I sighed, trying to control the feelings inside me. Just wait a while, it will all be done soon, and I went home for the day.

The next morning, Asher called me to his desk. He'd been more… friendly lately. Our conversations were less strained, his tone softer, almost like he'd forgotten about my initial hostility. But I hadn't forgotten. I couldn't afford to. It would cost me a lot.

"Khloe," he started, sliding a file across his desk toward me. "I've been digging into Jennings. The guy's got a history. Assault charges, harassment… nothing that stuck, but enough to raise eyebrows."

I opened the file and scanned the contents. Jennings was exactly the type of man I'd consider—someone who deserved to face consequences he'd managed to evade. But this wasn't about him. This was about Robert. Still, I nodded, feigning interest.

"Robert's pushing for us to nail him for his wife's murder," Asher continued. "He's been cooperative… almost too cooperative. It's like he wants us to look at Jennings and no one else."

"You think he's hiding something?" I asked, my voice carefully neutral.

Asher shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe he's just desperate. Either way, we need more evidence before we can make a move."

I nodded again, closing the file. "I'll see what I can dig up." I hope he continues to look into this Jennings guy. I can't risk him getting too suspicious about Robert. Or do I have to come up with another idea to frame Jennings? No that would only cause more, I have to focus now more than ever.

My phone rang, and Betty's name popped up. I picked up the phone.

"Hello." I said, raising my voice to sound a bit happy.

There was a long silence, before she answered. "You know I thought your being weird was normal but I knew to be suspicious."

"What do you mean?" my tone changed, more deeper, wanting to hear what she knows.

"I asked myself, is this relationship real? Then I decided to investigate and noticed, you don't know who Nauthers is, do you?" she asked.

The silence between us grew as I just held the phone to my face.

"Do You?" She screamed at me, her voice shaking.

"I don't know what you saw but I did know him. I just don't remember his face." I assured her, still maintaining my tone.

"You were just using me weren't you?" "I went through the logbooks while I was at work, and I figured why Robert Smith and Nauthers were so involved with each other."

I sighed, answering her. "You know that's not true." I tried to convince her, I still need her at this point.

"All I know is you are lying, and I'm going to find out." She sounded determined to find out what she isn't supposed to.

"No! Betty. Don't go snooping where you're not wanted—"

Before I could finish my statement, she cut the call. I sighed rubbing my temples. I couldn't risk losing her, if she found out she would not want anything to do with me again.

I called and called but she refused to pick.

Please just come by, and I will explain everything you want to know.

I texted her, hoping she would read it and come over. I needed her on my side, now more than ever.

I signaled Asher and headed out. I least I have one thing in my control. This is the last week I am stalking this dude. After, I need to figure out where and when. So I can bring my mind to peace.

I went over to his workplace, I had an hour's break. I might as well use it well. I needed to breathe after the conversation I had with betty. I hope she does come over so we can talk. I stared down from the windshield, staring at Robert as he was focusing on a client. I noticed his reputation for supporting the criminals as he believed that's where the money lies.

I hummed to myself thinking of how I would strangle this son of a bitch to death. A lot of ideas have been popping in my head on how I would take him out. He had made a lot of women suffer. So now he had to pay for it.

I rushed back to precinct after my break to continue the investigation with Asher. I had to stall until after the kill. I hadn't thought of what to do with his body after the kill. Probably burn it like that of Wilder's. I can't risk burying a dead body in the middle of the night.

That means showing up to the crematorium. I haven't seen my dad in a while. I did grew away from all of them but it wasn't their fault, I was just—bitter.

After my shift, I grabbed my things heading for the door when I heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, what's the hurry?" It was Asher. He came over to me and sat on my desk folding his hand.

"I have a visitor tonight, and I don't want to be late." I said grabbing my coat from the chair.

"It's always something with you, you know."

"What?" I asked as I furrowed my eyebrows.

"For the past 2 months now, you've been looking for ridiculous excuse to go home. Why is that?" he asked. His stared at me. His eyes had a deep green colour—I hadn't noticed before.

"I just love my home. Is that a crime?" I folded my arms around my chest. For a second, I felt his eyes move towards my chest area. I quickly unfolded them and put on my jacket.

"But I really do have a visitor tonight."

"Okay, no problem. See you tomorrow then." He walked away throwing me a smirk. I didn't consider him as an attractive guy. Even though every where we stopped girls would swoon over him. I don't feel anything towards anybody anymore. Even after the trauma, I still dated but something inside me broke after that night. I don't know what it is, and I don't think I will ever gain it back. 

That night, after another uneventful shift of watching Robert, I returned home, exhaustion weighing heavy on my shoulders. The house was quiet—too quiet.

"Betty?" I called out, dropping my bag by the door. No response. I headed toward the living room, it was eerily quiet.

The door creaked open, and I stepped into the bedroom that felt colder than the winter wind outside. The scent of iron hit me first, sharp and nauseating. My boots clicked against the tiled floor, and that's when I saw it—the crimson pool spreading from the corner of the room.

Betty lay slumped against the bed, her head tilted at an unnatural angle, her throat gaping open like a grotesque smile. The blood around her had darkened, almost black in the dim light. Her face was pale, waxy, devoid of the sharp expressions she always carried. The paleness contrasted with the garish streaks of red staining her shirt, and for a brief moment, I froze, staring.

I approached her slowly, each step deliberate, my breaths shallow. The silence in the room was deafening. I didn't feel fear. I didn't feel sadness. Just a hollow, gnawing acknowledgment that something had gone terribly wrong.

Her eyes were wide open, staring at nothing. In the silence, they felt accusing.

A piece of paper rested neatly atop her head, the edges curling slightly as if even it couldn't bear to stay still in this room. I plucked it off her with as much ease as one might pull a note off a desk.

The words were sharp and pointed, written in dark ink:

"Be careful who you let in on the game."

Nauthers.

My hands trembled slightly, but not with fear—rage. My teeth clenched so hard I could feel the ache in my jaw as I crumpled the note in my hands. My hand lingered there, fingers brushing against the paper as if I could squeeze meaning out of it.

It was him then. He knew I was unto him. He knew I was close but betty fell into it.

I didn't feel anything for Betty—not grief, not anger, not even guilt. But I didn't want her to die. She didn't deserve this, and yet here she was, cold and lifeless in a pool of her own blood.

I picked up my cell. I had to call the cops. This was bigger than her and obviously me.

I don't know who you are but I promise I will kill you. I owe that to her.