I was following this classmate home. People across the university says that the girl in front of me is paranoid. Of what, I’m not sure.

 

Technically, she isn’t a classmate. Nor someone I know.

 

Also I don’t go to the university.

 

The both of us are walking down the alleyway but I don’t think she knows that I’m behind her. Does she?

 

I can tell that she slightly heightens her pace. I’ve done this too many times to keep track.

 

If you already didn’t know, I killed 47 people of all ages. This person is going to be my 48th.

 

This is going to be fun.

 

I quickly walk up behind her making no sound. I take out my knife from the inside pocket of my black leather jacket.

 

I put her in a tight rear choke position and bring the knife closer to her face. She’s struggling trying to get away from my tight grasp.

 

The knife draws on her face like a canvas. She whimpers from the pain but I don’t care.

 

I then knock her out and dragged her back to my place which isn’t far from here.

 

It was always great living near that alleyway since the victims can come over for some fun.

 

Once we were home, I threw her on the floor and locked the front door.

 

She’s still knocked out. Cold.

 

That’s good in which that gives me more time to prepare.

I moved her so she sat on the old bloodied wooden chair. I found a used rope and used the most complicated knot to tie up her wrists behind the chair.

 

I used the same knot for her ankles to the front two chair legs. One on each.

 

And duct tape over .

 

Preparation complete.

 

When I came back to lay down my knife set she awoke.

 

“Things will happen to you,” I went over to whispered in her ear and touched her chin seducingly.

 

I used the knife to cut open her sleeves and drew on her white alabaster skin. Bright crimson blood spews out from the cuts.

 

Pretty.

 

I did the same to her legs and her body.

 

Once I had fun with her, I killed her by slitting and wrists where blood spews out the most.

 

I threw a lighter on her and she started burning.

 

Someone then bangs on my door.

 

“You are under arrest.”

 

 

---

 

 

“We, the Jury, find Krystal Jung with 48 accounts of murder, guilty,” The Juror representative said aloud.

 

I didn’t think it would take them this long to find out.

 

Wow, the enforcement probably now.

 

“From the conclusion, I sentence Krystal Jung to death sentence. Court dismissed,” The Judge banged his gavel and left the room with other people.

 

I was being dragged out of the court to a high security prison with 2 weeks before I die.

 

 

---

 

 

“Sir, Prisoner #439877 committed suicide in her cell,” The guard told the head of the warden.

 

“Then just leave her be. Take her out,” The Warden replied not giving damn.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

 

 

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