All Monsters Look Innocent
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 4, '16 4:18pm
Thread Topic: All Monsters Look Innocent
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"You know what your problem is, John?" my dad asked, turning to me. He always said things like that. It wasn't the first time I'd heard it, but I knew that was the cue for me to keep my mouth shut. "You spend too much time locked up in that room of yours. You gotta get out more, before you lose your goddamn mind." I knew that s--- like that didn't just happen on the spur of the moment, so he was probably just saying that to freak me out. I don't know, I'll never understand him.
Dad and I started walking home, after a while... Which, to me, was a relief, since I was bored to tears. One moment, he wasn't looking where he was going, and tripped over a rock. I couldn't help it. I just loved seeing my dad f--- up. I did the worst thing I could possibly do, around him; I laughed.
My father glared at me. I felt fear spread throughout my entire body. "You find that funny, huh, ya little sissy?" he growled. His eyes flashed with fury. I tried to back away a few steps, but he grabbed my arm.
"D-Dad..." I began, hoarsely, the stumbling over my words. "Look, I...I..." Too late. He swung back his other arm and, before I knew it, his fist slammed against my cheek. A sudden rush of pain and adrenaline surged through me, then I felt numb with pain. He let go of my arm, letting me fall to the ground. The strike was followed by a hard kick in the side, then a punch to the stomach. He hit me again and again, until I burst into tears.
"Who's laughing now, you little fag?! Ya pathetic little queerboy?! Huh? Who's laughing now?!!!" my father screamed at me, as I sobbed on the floor.
I was about nine when that happened. And people wonder why I ended up so f---ed up.
***
You may've heard of me, before. My name's John Wayne Gacy. Eh, I suppose you could call me an average guy...well, if killing people is average, of course. -
Yep, you heard me right. 33 victims, all of which were young men and boys. Still, this is hardly surprising, judging by all the other people you may've read about! I may be notorious for lying, but this time, I'll try to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth...I'll try.
January the 2nd, 1972
I was kinda bored, one night, so I decided just to drive around for no particular reason. Eh, it was just one of those times. Only I had no idea of what it would result in. No idea at all. -
After a while of aimless driving, I came across a Greyhound bus terminal, with a young man just standing there. Just minding his own business, waiting for the bus. But the next bus didn't come for at least an hour. I rolled down my car window and called out to him.
"Hey, kid!" I called "The, uhhh...the next bus doesn't come for about an hour. I could always drive you to wherever, y'know." I was just trying to be nice, I supposed.
"Yeah, okay." he smiled, walking towards the car. I unlocked the other door, allowing him to get in. "Thanks, man."
"No problem. What's your name, kid?"
He hesitated for a moment, then replied.
"Timothy. Timothy McCoy." -
He seemed like a pretty nice kid, I had to admit. Who knew that he'd start off all the trouble in my later life? Who knew?
Timothy and I soon became...well, you could call us friends. We exchanged information about eachother. For instance, I found out that he planned to travel en route from Michigan to Omaha. He also told me he'd never been to Chicago before, so...I decided to take him on a little tour. -
***
"That was amazing!" Timothy laughed. "Thanks for the tour and all, John."
"No trouble in the slightest, Tim." I nodded back. "Tell ya what, kid. You could stay at my place, for the night, if you want."
"Well, I don't have anywhere else to go, right now...Okay!" -
*reading* :3
I love that you humanize people, Angel. Every person has a story, of what made them a certain way. Such insight is important, that we try to see the humanity in everyone. Serial killers to whatever, that's important. -
Oh, my God, thank you so much, Ana~
So, I let the kid stay in my house. Damn, what a mistake.
The next morning...
When I woke up, I got the shock of a lifetime. There he was. Timothy. Standing over me with a knife in his hand.
Oh, my God! I thought, panicking like crazy. My heart felt like it was beating a million times a second. I must've been having some kind of panic attack. Oh my God, oh my God, OHMYGOD! He...He's gonna f---ing STAB ME! I quickly leapt out of bed, ready to defend myself. As you probably guessed, I'm not as helpless as I look. -
The teen raised both arms, as if surrendering. As he did so, he slashed my forearm. I exclaimed in pain and gripped the wound. Tiny drops of blood seeped onto my hand. The panic finally set in. I knew that now was a good time to kick some ass.
I grabbed Tim's wrist and twisted the knife out of his hand. After that, I snatched him by his hair and whacked his head against the bedroom wall, then kicked him. He flew backwards, finally slamming directly into the closet door. Nearly broke the f---ing thing.
"So, ya think you can just waltz right over here and try to kill me, eh?" I demanded, furiously, clutching the knife. "Well, in that case, you couldn't BE anymore f---ing wrong!" -
Tim screamed, in what appeared to be terror. He lashed out at me, kicking me in the stomach. That triggered my sense of danger off even more. I snatched him, wrestling him to the floor, pinning him down. The next thing I knew, I was ramming the knife into his chest. Blood was squirting everywhere, all over me. Oh, my God, I couldn't believe I was DOING that! It felt so goddamn wrong! ...But at the same time, it was thrilling. No. Not just thrilling. Orgasmic, almost. He was coughing up blood and screaming, trying to push me away. I just kept slashing at him until he was dead.
-
I climbed off of the boy's carcass and headed towards the kitchen. There was a phone in there, so I planned on calling the cops and reporting this incident. When I got there, I saw a slab of half-sliced bacon on the counter, with the kitchen table set for two. I realized what had happened, at that moment; the kid probably went over to wake me up, but he was still carrying the knife, and didn't even notice! Honestly, at that point, I didn't know who failed more, me or Tim.
"Stupid kid!" I groaned, exasperatedly. "Make sure you're NOT still holding a f---ing butcher knife when you go to wake someone up, goddamnit!" He was dead. I'd killed him. There was no WAY I could call the cops, now. I couldn't let anyone else find his body...but what could I do with him?! -
:O Zomg.
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:'D Yey! More stories from Angel!
*starts reading* -
@ Ana: I know, right? When I found this out, if surprised me, too.
@ Takos: Damn right!
Quickly, I grabbed a cloth and started to scrub some of his blood off the bedroom wall and furniture. My clothes were f---ing drenched in the stuff, so I had to burn those, later. All the while, I was trying to come up with ways that I could dispose of Timothy's body. For what seemed like hours, my mind was completely blank. Finally, when all seemed bleak, an idea came to mind.
It sounded crazy, I knew that, but it was the best I could do; I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could bury him under my house! Just throw him in the crawlspace, maybe cover the spot with concrete. It seemed like a pretty damn good idea at the time, and fairly simple. There was always the possibility of getting caught, but that was a chance I had to take. -
It's so sad. This ish why you don't wake people up with weapons in your hand... xD
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xDDDD Exactly! As 'Gacy' said, "Honestly, at that point, I didn't know who failed more, me or Tim."
"Ohh-f---in'-kay, then." I muttered to myself, with a sigh. I REALLY didn't wanna go through with this, but it was much better than going to jail. Especially since I'd just gotten OUT of jail, so going back wouldn't exactly be good for my reputation, now would it? I was in deep enough trouble as it was, and desperate times call for desperate measures.
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