I killed another person last night.

Victim 4. Raylynn Alarcon. Fifteen. Willamette River, Oregon.

I never targeted a certain group of people, but the way I did my killings were always the same; something would make me furious, then I would go for a walk. After my walk, I would find a person and follow them around for a week. I wrote down all of my victims’ names, ages, and where I found them. Sometimes I would write where I left their body or other gruesome information about the killing. My reason for keeping this information was so I could feel regret the following day.

“Connor... You killed another person last night.” I said to myself as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I bit my lip hard, and I began to taste my own blood. Then I looked down at my dog, Lucky, and eased my aggressive bite until I was no longer bleeding anymore. “Why didn’t you stop me from killing that innocent girl, Lucky?”

She was a beautiful girl. Unfortunately for her, she was the first person I saw when I got angry. I followed her. She was a short girl; barely over five foot. Her skin was a perfect olive color, she also had bright green eyes with a golden center; her brown curls matched the color of her skin. She attended Roosevelt High School in Portland, Oregon; lived with her mother, step-dad and younger brother. I knew nearly everything about her, but she didn’t know a thing about me; she never will.

Out of my other victims, she was the one I regretted the most. Despite her being a shy girl in school, she was still very close to her family. She lived with her mother, father, and younger brother. Since she doesn’t have any friends, she comes home right after school everyday. Her family reported her missing as soon as she wasn’t home from school today.

“If anyone has seen this girl, please contact your local police.” There she was. Raylynn Alarcon on my TV screen. I began to bite my lip again; the skin on my lip was nearly nonexistent since I constantly peel the skin away. I’ve gotten used to the taste of blood in my mouth.

It usually takes over 24-hours for the police to look into a missing person’s case in this city, so I was surprised that the news already got ahold of this crime. Eventually, people would figure out Raylynn was dead, but they’ll never know it was me. No one knows me in this city. After my first killing six months ago, police believed they found the man that killed 35-year-old Derek Bailey, but they convicted the wrong man. That case went on for two months, and I watched it all from my TV. I feel bad for the man they convicted; he’s guilty of a crime I did. I should be the one behind the bars of that jail. The man looked similar to me though, he was a white male, who had dark brown hair, green eyes, and was only five-foot-six. When police investigated his home, they found a .22 Caliber shotgun; the bullet from that gun would’ve left a similar impact on his skull as my gun. The difference is the bullets in my gun are smaller.

I know the right thing to do would be to tell police I was the one who killed Derek, but then I wouldn’t get better. I’d be stuck behind bars wanting to get out. I know I can make myself better. Someone else just has to believe in me too.

“Lucky, I’m a good person. I promise,” I sat down on the floor with my dog and he got up to sit on my lap. I felt his long white fur run through my fingers; his tail began to wag back and forth. If he knew of all the bad things I’ve done to people, he would be just like everyone else and wouldn’t talk to me. If it weren’t for Lucky, I probably would have already killed myself.

Victim 5. Noah  Cordova. Eight. Washington Park. Oregon

Last week I got declined from another job for the fourth time this month. If I don’t pay my rent again, I’ll lose my house and I’ll live on the street. I left the employment building, infuriated, and slammed my fist against the brick building. I felt no pain; my body was used to getting hurt.

On my way back home, I went for a stroll at Washington Park. There, I saw a small boy with his family playing in the grass. Today, I have brought him to my home for a “playdate.”

“Mr. Connor, can we play a game?” Noah asked me enthusiastically.

“No,” I replied back sternly.

Noah’s big blue eyes looked up at me, “But I thought this was a playdate? Shouldn’t we play?” His innocence startled me. He had no idea I was about to kill him; in fact, he probably doesn’t even know what fear is. Noah attended elementary school and had lots of friends. I know his school would be in a panic if he is gone for too long. Often times, Noah went over to a friend's house after school, so I know his parents wouldn’t be worried about him until later tonight around dinner time. Noah was always home before dinner; it was a tradition his father made up to keep his family strong through the hard times. I stared at Noah for a long time to study his face and everything about his body. I did this with all of my victims. The most noticeable feature on Noah was his long blonde hair which he swept to one side of his face, most likely to make this hairstyle look intentional. In reality, his family couldn't afford to give him a haircut.

“Noah, lemme give you a haircut?” I asked him as I reached over to grab a pair of scissors. The room we sat in was dark; there were no lights except for the few lamps I had scattered around the room. Despite how scary it sounds, it was actually very kid friendly. My walls were painted a sky blue; I also had Marvel posters hung up all over my room. I made sure I never left any sorts of weapons lying around my house in case I were to slip up on one of my crimes.

“I haven’t had a haircut in four years. Mom said she wants to donate it!” Noah replied.

“It’ll be fine, c’mere,” I pulled him close to me. I could do so much with this pair of scissors in my hand. So many bad thoughts came to my mind, I could kill this boy right now. My hands began to sweat, and my heart started to race.

This is victim 5. I watched his chest rise up and down as he sat in front of me; these could be some of his last breaths.

Lucky walked up to me and nudged his nose into my hand. I wonder if he could read my mind. Suddenly, all the bad thoughts dissipated and I realized that if I were to do something to this boy right now, everything could be evidence in the future for forensics. They could raid my house and find out I killed the boy right here in my home. I’ve watched enough episodes of Forensic Files to know how they catch serial killers.

“Oh Mr. Connor, you have a dog?” The boys face lightened and a big smile grew on his face. My hands began to relax and I wiped them on my pants.

“Yeah, his name is Lucky. He’s a very special dog,” I smiled at Noah and ran my comb through his hair. “Let me cut your hair and then we can go donate it later tonight?” I asked Noah. I knew he would be sad if he didn’t get to donate it, but I wanted to make him happy by giving him a haircut.

Noah nodded and I turned his back away from me so I could gather all of his hair into a ponytail. I already had a hair tie on my wrist, so I used that. I picked up my scissors from the ground next to me and began to glide them against his hair. The scissors snapped closed then opened again as it bit into more hair each time. Long blonde strands began to fall on my carpet from where the rubber band didn’t grab the hair. With one last close of the scissors, his hair ended up in my hand. Looking at him now, he looked like a completely different boy. I grabbed his shoulder and turned him around, “Look, Noah.” I held up his hair in my hand and his eyes widened.

“That was all mine?” He questioned.

I nodded and put his hair into his hands. “Yes, that’s all yours Noah. Follow me,” I told him to follow me to the restroom so I could use my clippers to even out the edges. His small steps followed closely behind me and I could hear him begin to sing a song. I ignored it and had him sit on the toilet seat cover. My clippers touched against his small head, and short strands of hair fell on the bathroom floor. The room was quiet except for the vibrating sound coming from the clippers. Noah had even stopped singing and I hadn’t spoken a word to him.

I unplugged the clipper from the outlet, and the room went dead silent. I took a step away from Noah. His eyes stared into mine and I guided him to the mirror so he could examine his hair. His smile grew wide and he gave me a big hug. I immediately felt uncomfortable and pulled away. His happiness never faded.

“Noah, I think this playdate is over, I should take you home,” I spoke softly.

“Okay!” Noah replied happily.

I walked him home since he just lived a few blocks away. He told me stories about his life and told me how happy he was all the time. Even though his parents were struggling, he was innocent and barely understood any negative situation. I knew exactly which apartment he lived in. I walked him up to the third floor and gave him a hug.

“Thank you for the playdate Mr. Connor,” Noah said to me as he wrapped his arms around my legs. Even though I wasn’t tall, Noah was still far smaller than I was. I leaned down.

“Thank you for changing me,” I replied back to him. I knew he wouldn’t understand what this meant, but he saved both his and my own life. “Hey, maybe we’ll plan another playdate soon.”

Noah nodded happily and ran inside his home. I quickly left, I didn’t want his family looking around and see me, a creepy thirty-two-year-old man taking their small son home. After I was a good distance away from the apartment complex, I slowed down my steps. I needed to breathe and understand what I just did.

It began to rain, and the sidewalk reflected all of the street lights around me. I pulled up my black hoodie to protect my hair from the rain. I followed the same path I took Noah to get home.

Then I began thinking about the other people I killed.

I kept my head down on my whole walk home, I felt all the raindrops hit against my back.

I felt at ease.

Once I made it home, I saw red and blue lights reflect on the ground in the water.

Writer’s Memo

I got my idea from this story from past stories of serial killers because I am very interested in stories about crime and death. zI wanted to make this guy different by wanting him to try to become better in the end
The main conflict is the character feeling regret for all of his killings
I am most pleased with my overall plot idea
The part that needs improvement is my figurative language because I didn’t include much of it.
My main character changed because at the beginning he was killing a lot and wasn’t really feeling regret, then once he killed Raylynn, he started to feel regret to the point where he didn’t want to even harm Noah at all. He decided not to because his dog had told him not to kill him by doing a slight gesture. The external conflict made him face his internal conflict because after each killing he felt more lonely and felt more regret.