A Girl In Storage

A Girl In Storage

Status: Finished

Genre: Thrillers

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Thrillers

Summary

The first killing of the serial killer known as the Creep. This is where it all begins.

Summary

The first killing of the serial killer known as the Creep. This is where it all begins.

Content

Submitted: November 01, 2012

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Content

Submitted: November 01, 2012

A A A

A A A


 

The first time I killed it was unintentional, a storage unit affair in the outskirts of New York where I had found a youngish redhead girl rummaging around in her storage at a very discreet hour, for a long time I stood there watching her, rummaging around within my head and morals while working up the courage to take the actions needed to still my sadistic urges.

What she was doing out here at this hour was anyones guess, you have to remember this was before all of this CCTV nonsense which made the situation to good to pass up so finally making a decision I swiftly covered the distance between myself and the storage unit containing my price. With my best efforts and the poor lighting I remained unknown to the girl right up to when I grabbed her neck from behind. She had no early warning that I was coming, being 100% focused on what she was doing and my steps not making any noise in the fresh snow did nothing to alarm her.

This being a youthful episode instigated more by desire and opportunity than the careful planning and caution that was to become my call signs in later years, I was not prepared for the scream that came out of the girl. With one hand holding fast on her neck forcing her head down into the box of clothing that she had been rummaging around in prior to my rude entry into her life I used my other free hand to stuff some of the garment into her gaping and screaming mouth now slightly muffled by the fabric introduced.

A sense of calm was introduced, albeit at the cost of a severely bitten finger caused by the girls’s over excitement at the prospect of being gagged. Still having to deal with her arms flailing, legs kicking and whole body squirming I used another piece of garment to secure her arms behind her back which allowed me some time to close the garage type door behind us, my adrenalin made the sound of the door hitting the ground echo in my head and the paranoia of the situation started to play its notes on my fragile and young psyche. What was I doing here? Had anyone seen me come here? Did anyone know that the girl would be here? These questions and many more plagued me as I sat and watched the fear and tears in her eyes.

It was freezing cold on the stone floor where she was laying, her lips turning blue and her body starting to shake from the chills. Having waited about three hours, feeling secure that no one would be coming I made the decision to strip her naked. I remember so clearly the feeling of her cold breasts covered with goosebumps, her legs and lower arms where covered with the same making the tiny hairs stand out.

I told her not to scream, that I would kill her if she did and slowly pulled out the fabric which I had lodged in her large perfect mouth. There was no scream. The cold and degradation had sucked out all the fight in her. I put a finger inside her mouth which reminded me of when a previous girlfriend had put a ice cube in her mouth before performing fellatio on me, the girl had stopped shivering and her eyes did not focus properly. The whole incident reminded me of a line from the feature film Full Metal Jacket “I don’t know but I’ve been told, Eskimo pussy is mighty cold” and the first maniacal laughter of my career bubbled uncontrollably up from somewhere inside.

After several hours I knew that I had to leave, I had to make my way out of the facility and back into town without being seen. Would this girl whom according to her drivers license was named Charlotte be able to identify me? Could the police track me from her statements? Would she be alive when someone found her or would the cold cement floor claim her before anyone missed her? At some point in the barrage of questions my mind was throwing at me I realized that in order to hide this deed, Charlotte must die.

I would have preferred to slit her throat, like a deer in the hunting season, but having come unprepared I did not have a knife and no amount of searching through the unmarked boxes in the storage would produce any implement sufficient for the task. In the end I turned her over and surveyed her body, sat down over her chest and put my hands around her neck, her eyes seem to regain their focus and locked into mine, fear rushed into me and I squeezed down harder, I could feel the windpipe crack and the girl convulsed for what seemed like the last time. I held on for another minute watching her eyes now locked forever in their stare, there was no fear left. There was no emotion in her eyes. Charlotte was dead, in every aspect of the word, Charlotte was dead.

I dragged her body to the back and stacked boxed around her to better hide her from view if anyone looked into the storage unit, the cold would help to preserve her body so with a little luck no one would come looking her until spring. I cleaned up the scene where the horror had played out, tidying up the boxes. I thought of taking some of the fabric used to gag her with me, but  I hastily reconsidered, I knew perfectly well, that type of behavior is what could expose me.

More first hand stories from the life of Bob Bishman can be found in the book The Creep by John T. Foster now available on Kindle, get your copy here – http://www.thecreeponkindle.co.uk


© Copyright 2017 FredrikPaulin. All rights reserved.

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