Murder: Because It's All I Have To Give. (#1)

I watch him. I know his entire routine. The duration of his average bowel movement, how long he brushes his teeth, how often he masturbates.

I follow him on facebook, twitter, and lost.fm. He doesn't know my plan. He's never even met me. But soon, that will all change. We'll meet.

I developed the plan before I decided on a subject. It was simple: 1. Choose a Subject. 2. Collect Data. 3. (and here's where it gets good)

I have taken the cord from a video game controller. He likes video games. With that I will garrote him until he passes out cold as a junkie.

Once I have him in the room that I've prepared I'll use the same ligature to bind him to the metal pipe that runs up the center of the room.

There I'll have a palette of tools for my endeavor. A full pack of smokes to create patterns on his skin, a brand I've created just for him.

I've filed nails so finely that when driven into his skin he'll not bleed. Electricity run into them through wire will cauterize the wounds.

I'll then remove the nails to reveal a small design made of perfect windows into his body, clear enough to peer into and investigate inside.

The best for last. I've fitted small headphones to an amp capable of powering a tone at 200 decibels, all that's necessary to destroy a man.

The blood that exits from the ear will create the final splash of color, but first to meet him. Travis Laird. BillZilla. Now! He approaches!

Senseless violence must always be tragic.

I came to in a chair, my arms bound behind. My legs were spread; two ropes ran around them then to the rope on my wrists keeping them apart.

From the fog that clouded my memory and the sensation that my brain was being pecked at by a murder of crows I could tell I'd been drugged.

I heard a noise some feet away and tried to speak. That is when I noticed the tape sealing my mouth. Drugs be damned, my heart raced wildly.

From the shadows came a voice. "The sedative will wear off soon, then we can begin." I struggled violently but became nauseous, so I ceased.

My mind began to clear and I made a list of enemies, anyone who would want to hurt me. But did that matter if I couldn't escape? Not at all.

I tried to take stock of my surroundings, but the light was so low that I could've barely seen my hands had I been able to lift them at all.

"It's important for the sedative to be out of your system completely if you are to truly feel the pain you are about to receive." Footsteps.

Those were the last words he said. A moment later I felt my side open up. I bucked in the chair, but no use. A small blade tore at my cheek.

I bore several small cuts and felt blood run over my skin. I began to sweat, and could feel the tape on my mouth loosen, liberating my lips.

The last sound I heard? The change of instruments, a scratching of metal. My chest split, a hand around my heart, I lost my sight and slept.

A Fine Line Between Pleasure and Pain

I learned a lot the first time I died. I was 240 years old, and by that point thought myself impervious, so it came as quite a shock to me.

One hot night in 1192 I was taking a walk in the garden of my host. I was on holiday in Marrakech, Morocco and it was too sweltry to sleep.

After the dusty and carnivorous smells of the marketplace, it was a comfort to breathe in the jasmine that created a border of white blooms.

I bent to squeeze a toadflax bud and watched with joy as its violet petals exited their hiding place. 240 years had not robbed me of wonder.

Standing again, I knew someone was behind me. I turned to find a beauty with almond eyes in a long silk garment smiling at me. I turned red.

My tongue stumbled over an introduction. "I know who you are," she said. I asked her source of knowledge. She did not respond, but moved in.

"You are much more handsome than I imagined," she said. Then her arm was around me, her leg between my own pair. My loins responded eagerly.

She shuddered against me in pleasure. I dared to reach up and touch her soft breast and then I felt it: a burning in my back. No, a ripping.

The knife tore up my back. "Did you think an abomination such as yourself could walk unnoticed among God's children?" she demanded, smiling.

I have suffered several violent deaths, mostly at the hands of religious fanatics, but I learned to allow the pain to bring me back to life.