Everything you know is wrong, just forget the words and sing along. . .

The events depicted in this story parallel those depicted in 12-String: 10

- - - Warning - - -
This story is written from the perspective of a serial killer and is, as such, disturbing and should be read with caution. While there will not be graphic depictions of violence, such scenes will be referenced tangentially, and violence will be threatened upon others.

This story is not necessary for the understanding of the 12-string series. It may be skipped.

- - - Warning - - -
I'm sure that by now the police have figured out that the person they captured wasn't me. Even they aren't that dense. Of course I'm going to have to keep my eye on Detective Jensen since he is entirely too smart for his own good.

Next time I'll just have to leave fewer clues.

The image of that poor actress running for her life from the police is something I'll keep with me for the rest of my life. It will fill the empty moments between prey.

"Why are you doing this?" Holly's sobs are almost enough to make me want to think about caring. The moment doesn't last long before the irritation sets in.

"My dear Ms. Hansen. I do this because I can. I do this because I enjoy it. And if you let yourself, you might find yourself enjoying it as well."

I don't tell her that she will likely be dead before she can get to that point, but I can see in her eyes that she knows.

That was why I picked her in the first place. That look she could give a person. The ability to bare her soul to anyone just by opening her eyes.

I would be careful to preserve her eyes during our future play so that I could preserve them forever. I know that they'll soon lose their luster but looking at them will remind me of the girl they once belonged to.

Thinking about her eyes on my shelf is enough to make me shudder in anticipation of the acts I am about to perform. She shies away from me. I feel my power over her and it arouses me.

There will be time for that later.

"Let's see. . .what should I do to you. It gets so hard to find a new way to play with my toys, after so many. Skinning alive was satisfying, and I haven't done that in a while."

I can see the fear awake in her eyes.

"No, I might damage your mind before the end. That one was completely gone even before he died."

Revulsion appears on her face and I allow a smile to grow until she shrinks away in fear.

"Starvation was about the most boring way that I have ever watched someone die. I almost just strangled the person to get it over with. That is one I won't be doing again."

I look at her and think of the blood as it slowly flowed over Desdemona's toy. A smile slowly, and without any thought on my part, grows until it consumes my face. It will take all of my skill to do, but it will be a masterpiece when I'm done.

I can almost envision the light slowly leaving her eyes.

I turn off the camera, as what is to follow will be an intensely personal moment.

* * *
I bask in the afterglow. There is no blood to clean off me because there was none of the arterial spurting that I've run into in the past.

The enjoyment I've received from this is almost enough to make me want to develop a signature and perfect this one method.

I don't plan on getting caught, however, and too much repetition will bring me to the attention of people with whom I'd rather not get acquainted.

I leave her there on the floor. I've already retrieved her eyes. All that remains is for me to make sure that I've left nothing behind of myself and call 911.

They are so good at cleaning up my messes for me. How many has that been over the years?

I take a moment to count all of my past toys, human, and otherwise. Forty-nine. Desdemona will make my fiftieth toy.

I need to begin planning something very special for her.

* * *
It only takes the police twenty minutes to arrive. I'm watching in anticipation of the moment when the first of them comes running out to lose their lunch when someone I know walks up to the house.

Detective Jensen.

He is getting entirely too close to me. It might be coincidence that he is here, but I doubt it. Something has tipped him off, I'm sure of it. He's onto me.

Suddenly I'm torn between going to New York to be with my newest toy, and staying here and removing Detective Jensen.

Finally I decide that this requires more patience than I've needed to show since I played with my parents. They were my first human kills.

Numbers twenty-three and twenty-four. I should have waited so that my first would have hit twenty five.

Five is a very mystical number. It holds power in it.

I'm still unsure which one died first. I had timed it so well. I should have had medical equipment running to monitor it.

I disconnect from the video feed and pack a bag to take with me to the airport.

I'm using a new identity.

There is always a slight thrill of fear when I first use a new identity. Especially in some place as public as an airport.

They accept me without question, and I even get a few appreciative stares from the male security guards.

For the first time I become aroused without the need to control the object of my lust. The images of the guards tied up, and making the small cuts to their skin is enough.

I banish those thoughts.

I have to remain in control. Loss of control is loss of freedom.

A young couple in love is already sitting in the lounge when I arrive. I amuse myself with imagining playing with the two of them at the same time.

It's been a while since I had two toys at the same time. Then it hits me. I have two toys now. I was planning on taking my toy's own toy away from her, but this will be much more satisfying. Especially if I can get my toy to play with her toy in front of me.

I orgasm at the thought of it.

I am embarrassed for the first time in public and hurry to the washroom to clean up.

I take some cleansing breaths, adjust my dress, and go back out to the lounge to wait for my flight.

I hate to fly. Unfortunately I hate other types of travel more.

I get to New York and for the first time in seven years I feel lost. I have no clue where to start looking for my toy. She's here to be on Saturday Night Live.

I'll start at the studio. I've gotten some sleep on the plane, so my sleepless night isn't affecting me as much as it could be. I wander around Rockefeller center, always keeping an eye on the door to 30 Rock. I get picked up a couple of times, but I politely decline.

It is so much easier for a woman to hunt than a man. I could have had any one of those men at my mercy. They would have walked blindly into my lair.

I would have to have some meaningless relationships for a while after I got done with my current toy. Maybe I could get up to seventy-five or even a hundred within the next year.

That would be quite an accomplishment.

I'd have to start keeping better track of my methods if I did.

Keith came down and got into a cab and was gone before I could react. He'd given me the slip today, but he had to come back to this place tomorrow, and I'd be ready.

Renting a car should have been my first priority upon reaching the city.

I took care of it and then found a room for the night. I would be up early and waiting for him to arrive at the studio. While I waited, I would find out if I could still get tickets to the show.

Edited by the ever patient Julia Phillips.