Thread: Internet Killers [	Mr Quixotic & Dovakitten]

RE Internet Killers Very Dark Content After cleaning up the mess she'd made after her short tantrum, Analise decided her day had been long enough and that she should just head to bed. No more messages. No more forums. She tumbled and rolled all throughout the night, her troubled subconscious leaving her restless. But still she awoke before her alarm, that she only set as a precaution, even went off. Like every morning, she went out for a jog, stopping by her neighbor's home to knock. When Whitney never came to the door, she thought it was strange but proceeded with her morning as she usually would and just assumed the woman had already tapped out. Normally her morning jogs were the best way to clear her head, but today all she could think about was the correspondence between herself and the so-called killer. When she returned home, winded after pushing herself harder and longer than she usually would, she went directly to her computer. Typically she'd be getting dressed for work but she had the day off and planned to use her time working on her dissertation, after she checked her messages. Again, he flaunted his ability to see through whatever glamour she attempted to put up in her messages as he chastised her for running scared from their conversations. I have a life. I can't just sit here and chat with some lonely, basement dwelling, neckbeard all night , was the response she already had lined up in her head, but she read on and her heart stopped. Before she had time to register exactly what he meant, Analise dashed out of her house and banged on the woman's door, calling out her name in a complete panic. She paced on the woman's porch, shaking her head from time to time as she told herself it wasn't possible. If something happened to Whitney, that meant this guy was for real and she'd only been able to continue her banter with him because she'd convinced herself he wasn't. But there was proof beyond that door, so why was she still standing outside? Analise hopped over the banister of the porch, to the side of the house and made her way around back. When Whitney had gone out of town, she asked Analise to come by everyday and feed her cat so she knew there was a key to the back door under a plant she never watered. But when she attempted to unlock the door, she realized it was already open. She took a breath, turned the knob, and opened the door. Immediately the rancid smell of what could only be rotting flesh struck her as she gagged before placing her wrist over her mouth and nose, but still she pressed on. Aside from the smell, nothing seemed to be out of place until she found her way into the kitchen. Her eyes fell upon the overweight body of one the most uninteresting women she'd ever met laid out on the kitchen table where they'd drank coffee together from time to time, while Analise pretended to be interested. Her hand dropped to her side as the smell that had disgusted her so just moments ago, no longer held her attention. She took a step forward, noticing the wound that killed her. Then another step and another until she was standing over the woman's body, leaning down to get a better look at the gaping wound. Green orbs rolled up to see the pair of panties in her mouth. Don't worry, I didn't rape her - chubby women aren't my type. She looked into Whitney's glossed over eyes, suddenly unable to remember what color they were, Bummer, she murmured to the dead woman that had been so unfortunate to not even get laid before being brutally murdered. As the urge to stick her fingers inside the wound and squish around started to take over, she leaned up and looked down at the crucifix. Her brow furrowed as she thought of his other victims and she wondered why he was suddenly marking his victims. It was then that she remembered the end of his message and looked over her shoulder into the living room, where grey and white striped cat was huddle over something. Licking and chewing. She crossed over to living room and stood in front of the cat that was licking at would could only be a severed finger, Kitty, no, she chided the cat that was not giving up it's bounty. She swatted at the cat, mewing it's displeasure as it darted off so she could have a better view of the finger. A finger with a ring on it. you're next! A number of things ran through her mind as she stared down at the swollen finger. She could leave it there. She could leave the body. She could just leave. The state, the country. She could run. Or she could pick it up and play. She crossed back over to the kitchen, glancing at the horror scene on the table as she made her way to the cabinets and found a small, plastic, sandwich bag. She picked up the finger using the bag, rolled it up and shoved it in the pocket of her windbreaker. She stood there a moment longer before she screamed as loud as she could. Another neighbor on their way to work heard the shrill cry and came to find her in the back yard, bent over a pile of her own vomit. He dared to go inside the house to see what had caused Analise to become so upset before he came back out and called the police on his cellphone. She spent the rest of her day at the police station, after she went home for a shower and to put the severed finger in her freezer, she thought her pen pal might want it back. She pretended to be upset, she cried hysterically to the point where the police had to wait to speak to her. All while thinking of the way her throat opened up like a second, bigger mouth for her to do all of her talking and eating with. When she was finally brought home in a squad car, there was a news team that arrived on the scene and she was bombarded with questions despite how distressed she appeared. But then she looked into the camera, Whoever did this... You're nothing and I'm not afraid of you. Before she could say another word, a police officer began shooing the press away as he guided her to her home. Analise went inside, shut the door behind her, and smiled. This was the most exhilarating thing that had ever happened to her in her entire life and she wanted desperately for it to continue. She decided that she wouldn't message him yet, she wanted him to see her on the news. To see that not only had she got someone to call it in, but that she'd given a statement and was bold enough to taunt him on television. Still, she sat in front of her computer, unable to sleep, waiting for a message from him.