I've been inside this holding cell for over five hours. Walking around in circles and driving myself crazy. There's this rookie guard who only stares at me with a hand on his gun absolutely terrified. As he should be. When I confessed to all my crimes, the police had no idea the enormity of my brutality. 98 kills. The confession lasted easily over a week. And why exactly is a bitch like me even confessing to anything? I'll tell you. Cordelia Chase. My savior, my hero, my love. Just thinking her name brings a warm smile to my face. This serves to further terrify the young guared watching me. But he had nothing to worry about. I was here because I wanted to be here. Because as Cordelia taught me, it was the right thing to do.
After what happened with Wesley in Sunnydale, I felt dead inside. The people closest to me had all betrayed me. When I reached LA, all I had was pent up rage. That's where the murders began. My first one had obviously been an accident. But my first intentional murder was planned out perfectly. I guess you can say I was testing myself. Testing what I was capable of. I chose a pregnant woman as my victim. To me, there was nothing more immoral than to kill a mother to be and her unborn child. And I was on a sort of personal quest to destroy any innocense that was left inside me. And why would I want to kill the innocense inside me? Because it hurt. That part of me caused me so much pain, I had no choice. See when you kill that, you feel nothing.
My first victim? I stalked her for a while. Watched her go to the supermarket, watched her pump gas, watched her at home, taking a shower, sleeping. Anyway, I had chosen a particular night for the attack. It was a full moon. The air was chilly and the streets were deserted and gloomy. That night I was going to end her life. The only thing I was armed with was the knife the mayor had given me. With a pain in my stomach and a fear I've never felt before, my body went into killer mode. I was determined to do this.
She was getting ready for bed. I watched her every night perform the same ritual. I knew it by memory. After she put on her pijamas, she would comb her hair in front of her vanity table, gently singing to herself. This always facinated me. The sort of tranquility in her voice and the smooth strokes of the brush against her long hair. She loved sunlight and nature. Always leaving her windows open for the cool morning breeze to wake her. And without her knowing, this invited the very core of evil to witness her actions and condemn her child's life.
I waited patiently at the window until she pulled back the soft covers she slept with and relaxed onto her mattress for sleep. Silently, I jumped into her room. My actions reminded me of a ninja. I stayed crouched low and crawled toward where she was sleeping. Like a cat, I jumped onto the bed, straddling her belly. She was about to scream out but I quickly pulled my knife to her throat. She swallowed her scream and started to cry. This brought a sad feeling into my body. Everything inside me hurt and I hated this bitch for making me feel this way. Hate. The only thing that fueled.
"Please don't hurt my baby, please don't!!" She said between sobs. This excited me. It turned me on. I don't know why but it did. I removed my knife from her neck and in a quick motion, I sliced her stomach open. She screamed out in shock and terror. With my free hand, I grabbed into her belly and pulled out her child. She brought her hands to her cheeks and continued to scream. The child began to cry so I stabbed it in the skull with my knife to silence it. The fetus became so slippery that it fell out of my hands and dropped back into it's mother's stomach. The woman's screams sceased and I realized she had passed out. I walked over to her vanity and stared at myself covered in blood. I couldn't recognize myself. I picked up her comb and started brushing my hair and singing to myself the way she always did. My hands were shaking and my breathing was extremely jaggered.
I put her brush down and walked over to the bed. I reached into her stomach a second time and pulled out the baby. I started slicing it into little pieces against it's mother's chest. I would put some of the pieces into the woman's vagina, and some into her mouth. I went back for the brush on the vanity table and left the scene with one last look.
How could she have loved me? After all the things I told her I did, she still loved me. Memories of Cordelia fill my mind everyday. Thoughts of us making love late into the night, waking up in the afternoon in each other's arms, going to the movies hand in hand, I didn't deserve any of it. But I had it and I wasn't going to let it go. Cordelia kept me human. Without her, I would have succeeded in killing everything inside of me. My heart aches as my mind takes me back to the night of her death.