I KILL TO WRITE

2

Dear @Sultryforest

It's confirmed, I uncovered an old box full of trophies in David Masterson's garage yesterday. There were rings and jewelry which would seem normal for stuff in storage, until I reached the bottom. I found several clippings of carefully preserved hair, much like a parent might save from their child's first haircut, but beneath that was an ear. Perhaps thirty eight years old, dried and brittle, but it still had the diamond stud neatly pierced in the lobe.

And then there was the journal. The pages held detailed accounts of two specific females, dates, times, and places.

It makes me sick just thinking of it Sultryforest. I'm not sure what to do.

Here is an excerpt from one of the entries.

"Emily Brown, nineteen, curly blond hair and blue eyes. Recently attending UC Davis from Berkeley.

"Her eyes cut my heart like blue ice, and I knew at once I had to own her. There is an urgency to my passion and the week I spent taking down her life details is torture. The only thing which sustains me is my writing. The pages flow like water and every detail is burned into my brain in brilliant color."

I'm scared Sultryforest. After two pages I feel as if I know the girl. Her dress size and underwear color. She was born in 1959. Two sisters and a house in the foothills of Berkeley. There was no internet back then and he knew every intimate detail. There was only one notebook with two people. Janet Sinclair was the other one. She was only 19 but I didn't have time to finish. He's onto me Sultryforest, I need your help. He's asked me to stay for two weeks and if I leave he'll get suspicious.

Wattpad is my only form of communication. He's having me post his work for him to see if the young girls will like his style.

Only a real stalker could know details like this.

"I had to nail Emily's nose to the post today. She refused to hold her head still. After that, my leather belt held her neck so I could excise the ear properly. It was only fitting to play some music while I worked, so she would know what she was losing.

"My old stick razor worked quite efficiently after I got her hair trimmed. She wouldn't stop begging so I gagged her, but that one had a strong tongue. She kept pushing the gag out to scream. It was such a waste of her beautiful voice. Once I worked the blade around the backside of the ear, it came off perfectly."
I wrote with the hope he won't discover our correspondence, since he's having me do all the editing.

The reason I'm writing to you is your new to Wattpad, an innocent with a few followers. He will never think to find this story in someone's profile who doesn't even have a published story. Your a reader, so he will never find our correspondence. Besides, he never touches the internet, which is why he hired me.

I'm scared and I know I should run for my life, but I have to see this through and catch a killer.