I figured this would be the best place to post this, since most people will assume it's just some made-up story and thus won't report me, and maybe there's a small chance someone will be able to help me. So I lead, by all accounts, a fairly normal All-American life. I'm in my mid 20s, have a decent-paying job that I don't hate, decent relationship with my parents, currently single but not bothered by it... and I occasionally kill people.
Now before you ask "why?", know that I've asked myself that question countless times, and I can't come up with an answer. My first was at age sixteen when, while walking home from the library, I saw someone on their phone in an alley way, and I took out my pocket knife and... just did it, no rhyme or reason to it. Since then, every few months I'll just go on a wild hair and kill someone. I do get an exhilaration out of it, but I'm not addicted or obsessed, it's just something I do, like how some people grow a garden or collect vinyl records. Anyway, about two weeks ago, a coworker was venting to me about how her landlord was jacking up the rent to the point where she couldn't afford it and how she was about to get evicted. Well, this got my blood boiling. Yes, I kill people, but I'm quick and methodical, I don't throw people out in the streets to starve out of pure greed. So I discreetly got some information out of her about this landlord, and was able to track him down fairly easily.
I caught him as he was exiting his car, about to walk into his house. I snuck up behind him, and just as he pulled the house keys out of his pocket, I swung my garrote wire around his thick neck and began to pull, making sure this fat bastard suffered. When I felt the life leaving his body, I put him in a garbage bag, stuffed it in the trunk of my car, drove down to the lake, threw the bag in, then went home and ate some spaghetti while watching Magnum P.I. Now, I'd been killing on and off for around a decade, but until now, it had always been a random incident on a whim. This, however, was the first time I'd done it with a purpose, and along with the usual exhilaration, there was a new feeling as well: satisfaction.
That is, until a few days later. I was walking past my office building on lunch, when suddenly, in the reflection of the windowpane, I saw him. I turned around quickly, but he was gone. And that's how it's been the last few weeks. Almost every time I look in a window, or my rearview mirror, or out of the corner of my eye, I'll see him, and I can feel him staring at me, but when I try to get a better look, he's gone. And now it's escalated: I got home from work yesterday evening, and there was a message scratched into my door. It read:
Your Sins Have Accumulated
So if anyone has any idea on what to do, or just has a question about the mind of a killer, let me know
