The Gentleman Killer

This is a story about a man without any real identity, he is defined by what he does; murder. The man travels around stealing and killing women usually, but he is unique in the way he does it. By making the victim kill themselves. This story will be interchangeable between his POV and a third person look at what is happening. Enjoi!

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4. Charlotte (POV)

Charlotte, was a peculiar type woman at best. I wouldn't have expected the woman to be as kindly as she wasHer heart was void of any negativity but that towards herself, which did end up a great assistance when the time came for me to finish what I had begun... but it was surprising. I would've thought that, with such insecurity, she would fling herself before my feet and beg for me to accept her. Submissively give into the desire that came with the need to feel wanted. But no, she kept her distance. We chatted the whole night, the closest encounter I could manage with her was a gentle kiss on the cheek. And, there was something else I hadn't seen in any woman prior to young Miss Lore; my charms were weaker. Perhaps it was the lack of lust, the completely open conscious of hers that caused it but, if I wanted to bend her to my whims I would've had to spend countless minutes of furtive concentration to have anything take effect. It baffles me, I usually don't have any resistance whatsoever. Women melt in my grip and fade away if I so please... 

Her death was easily triggered, however. All of the insecurity she kept pent up inside rushed forth, like the strong tide of a full moon... and it took very little if any convincing that her existence on the face of the Earth was meager and meaningless. She broke her champagne glass and stabbed herself, tainting her silken sheets with the sweet iron-scent of blood, bleeding to death in agony. I stood there and laughed, like a sick man, but I laughed. It felt so empowering, so euphoric. The relished in the emotion, sitting there in her boudoir, watching her still body as the wonderful fragrance of death surrounded me. When I'd finally had enough, I absconded with a few pieces of jewelry, careful not to leave a single clue as to my former presence. Mm, how I savor nights like these. 

And yet, forever I will ponder the woman's immunity to my charm. Am I growing weak? Or are my victims growing strong?

~ Yours Truly; The Gentleman Killer

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