Part two of of Confessions of a Serial Killer (standard:horror, 1298 words) [2/2] show all parts
Author: Siobhan	Added: Sep 26 2002	Views/Reads: 3272/2162	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Gina only thinks of murder in the previous journal entry but when her date doesn't go her way, things begin to take a downhill turn.

Three weeks after original entry 

"Robert and I have a date tonight, not that I can tell anyone.  He has
made me swear to keep it a secret and I know that he is not telling 
anyone.  I know he hasn't been because we have been making out for the 
past few weeks and none of his friends know.  Not that any of my 
friends know either.  I mean Robert is really hot, but if they knew I 
had stopped so low as to make out with a jock, boy would they let me 
have it.  And on the same hand, if they knew he had stooped to dating 
one of the smart people, they'd let him have it.  Not to mention the 
entire school.  Boy's got to keep his reputation right? 

Not to sound bitter though, I am excited.  We haven't been on an
official date yet, it has just been spur of the moment kissing stuff.  
I mean, not that that is bad but still, I'm a girl.  I want the 
comforts of going out and not just being the random chick to grab and 
make out with.  We're going to see a movie in a theatre no one from 
this part of town knows about, and we're going in seperate cars.  Ooh 
the mystery, the drama.  Godd@m it, I wish we could be open.  I really 
like him, he has more brains in him than I honestly expected and he 
does seem to actually care about things besides baseball.  But when we 
can be open about our "relationship", pigs will probably be able to 
fly." 

Entered a day and a half after date with Robert 

"Oh god, things did not go the way they were supposed to tonight at all.
 I have done things I didn't really  believe I was capable of and 
Robert... I don't what to do.  I should be feeling guilty, regretting 
what I had done, not reveling in the pure pleasure it brought.  I 
should be turning myself in not smiling as I savor the moment again and 
again in memory.  What I have done is evil, and I completely like it.  
No, I take that back, I completely love it. 

First he had to go to the bank so he could pull out money.  He pulled
out about six hundred bucks, though of course not for me.  It was for 
some dumb part for his car.  He was going to get it the next morning 
but was too lazy to make another trip out to the bank.  So, the stupid 
lazy jerk was about fifteen minutes late.  It wouldn't have hurt to 
leave earlier or tell me to arrive later, or anything.  But sometimes 
that's the way boys, or even more so, jocks are...inconsiderate. 

We went to the movie, I wanted to see a stupid flick, "xXx", but Robert
fought me on it.  He claimed that he could see that with any of his guy 
pals, he wanted to see something that only he could watch with a girl.  
Great, so I had to deal with some slobbery chick flick.  I didn't 
really watch it, I kept itching to grab Robert and started making out 
with him. But every time I made a move, he pushed me away and told me 
he was trying to watch the movie.  It wasn't like what I wanted, I 
thought we would get to kiss at the movie, not stare like zombies at 
the screen.  I was pissed off the entire time during the movie, it was 
boring and grrr, I was antsy for some tongue action. 

After the movie, I was still angry but I had time to stew in my
annoyance.  He took me for a ride, a long ride, in his car to one of 
the big ole lakes, Lake Apache.  It was beautiful and I had the feeling 
that he hoped it would be romantic and probably loosen me up a bit.  
But I was pretty upset and when he touched me, I pulled away.  See how 
much he liked it.  He didn't and he sat back in a huff, staring 
straight ahead, pretending that I wasn't there.  It didn't work, cause 
I was angry too, so there the two of us sat, baking in our rage. 

I reached down onto the floor of his ground and found his baseball which
had been rolling around my feet the entire car ride.  I began rolling 
it around in my hands, hoping that it would be soothing.  But it 
wasn't, it only infuriated me more and more because he was in baseball. 
 He was not supposed to be intelligent or intellectual, wanting to see 
meaningful movies and not even kiss during them or anything.  I turned 
to him, shaking with my fury, but he didn't even notice.  He was still 
pretending that I did not exist.  Maybe if he had acknowledged me, it 
wouldn't have happened, but he did not. 

With a straight blow, as if I were landing on a punch, but with more
force than I have ever used before, I thrust my hand holding the 
baseball into the side of his head.  It made the most delicious crack 


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