Killer Instincts (COMPLETED) TW: Murder/Death

Killer Instincts
My name is Anya Rose Thorne. I am a 23-year-old homicide detective for the Weston PD in Weston, West Virginia, a very conservative and religious small town. My team and I have been chasing the notorious and oh-so-elusive serial killer known as the “Angel of Death” for nearly three months. We know almost nothing about all this… so-called “Angel.” We’ve had plenty of suspects who fit the modus operandi, but all have been proven innocent. This is a documentation of the case and my following of the Angel.
…
September 4, 2024—6:58 PM
I sit at my desk, all the files of the five victims lined up in chronological order, my head in my hands. I didn’t understand. How were they related? The causes of death were different, the scenes were unrelated, and the victims all seemed to be irrelevant. The only thing that ties the crimes together is a fake black feather and a long black synthetic wig hair. The only similarity between the bodies is that they all have the numbers 1, 2, 3, or 4 carved on their arms. What made it even stranger is that the numbers were carved on their arms chronologically in which they died… I fear that the Angel won’t stop at four victims. The Angel will kill again.
Ava Determan (1)
Drowned in the park lake. TOD: 2:22 AM. ~June 23, 2024
Noah Evans (2)
Shot with a gun. TOD: 3:33 AM. ~August 11, 2024
Gracie Anderson (3)
Electrocution and Strangulation. TOD: Undetermined. ~August 19, 2024
Elijah Thompson (4)
Poisoned (?) TOD: Undetermined ~August 25, 2024

“What is it about these people that the Angel thought it necessary to kill these people in the ways and places she did?” I got up from my desk and paced my office. 7:50 PM. It was getting late, but I knew I couldn’t leave yet. I haven’t made any progress. I haven’t been able to make any connections. What do the numbers mean? Why the wig and feather? Suddenly, I’m pulled from my thoughts as I hear a rapping on my door. I look up to see the janitor, Mrs. Olivia Fedderson, smiling at me. “Mrs. Fedderson! A pleasure to see you. Can I help you with anything?” I had a pleasant smile on my face to hide the frustrations I was feeling. Well, as friendly of a smile as I could muster. I probably looked like a pained mule.
“Oh, no, dear. I’m just making sure you’re aware of the time.” Mrs. Fedderson was a nice woman. She reminds me of my mom a little bit, with her green eyes and how her crow’s feet crinkle around her eyes when she smiles. Even more so with her short and stockier stature, but she always tries to talk about religion or politics to me whenever she has the chance. I always internally cringed when she fiddled with her gold cross necklace. It reminds me of my childhood when my mom and dad would force me to wear this long, itchy white babydoll dress and matching bobby socks with some black flats to church every Sunday. Now, don’t get me wrong, I respect those who follow and believe in Christianity, but it was just never for me.
“I’m aware of the time, thank you…Don’t worry, I’ll be out before 10:00 PM. Promise.” I gave her a kind smile and a polite wave as she nodded and walked away. I let out a heavy sigh I didn’t even know I was holding, and leaned on my desk, leaning over the case files, glancing over at the clock on the corner of my messy desk—8:00 PM.
“It’s late. It’s a long drive home. I should head out,” I mumble in a tired voice as I start to clean up the case files, putting them in the lockable drawer of my desk.
…
The drive home was…blurry. I can’t remember much of it. I was exhausted. I remember looking at the time about halfway through my drive. 8:20 PM. That’s when I drove by the supposedly ‘possessed and haunted’ Trans-Allenghey Lunatic Asylum that ‘shut down’ in the ‘90s. I’m surprised I haven’t gotten any reports of bodies being found there. Then again, it did shut down and is theoretically abandoned…but I’ve always suspected that something’s going on there. Not like I can prove it, though. It’s locked up pretty tight. Probably for good reason. At this point, my eyes were getting heavy. I need to go home. I’m exhausted. I glanced at the clock on my dashboard. 8:42 PM. Just a few more minutes… At last. Home, sweet home…
I pull up into my driveway, grab my things, get out, lock the car, et cetera, et cetera… I walk up the small steps to my porch, check the mail on my way up, grab the few ads in there, unlock my door, and step inside. It was a small house. Comfortable for one person, though. I smiled as my black cat Jiji approached my legs, greeting me with a low purr. “Hey, Ji… You miss me?” I gave her a quick scratch on the head before walking inside completely, shutting the door behind me, and putting my things away, before giving Jiji my complete attention for a few minutes. “Sorry, Jiji. I’ve gotta go shower and sleep…” Jiji meows in response, going to her cat tower in the corner of the room by her food bowl and water, lying in the topmost bed. I watch her, before returning my attention to what I was doing. AKA showering. I stood in my shower, the steam from the hot water fogging up my windows and mirrors. I don’t know how long I stood in there for, but I remember the water getting cold after I had washed my hair and cleaned myself up. I must have spent quite a bit of time in there. After that…I don’t remember anything. I remember…going to bed later than normal for some reason. Around…1:46 AM, but I can’t remember why… All I remember is I need to talk to Mrs. Fedderson later…
…
September 5, 2024
I woke up to a call from my partner, saying that they found another body. He had sent me the details, and I read them as I got dressed and ready to head to the scene, which was about 27 minutes away. “Laney Hanson, 39-year-old female, cause of death internal organs removed? Jesus…time of death 1:11 AM. She was found off to the side of an abandoned building. Weird…” I arrived at the scene around 5:30 AM, exhausted. I’d only gotten 3 hours of sleep.
“Morning, Sloane. This her, I assume?” I yawned and rubbed my eyes.
“Morning, Thorne. Yeah, this is her. Coffee?” He held out a coffee cup, which I gladly took.
“Ugh, you know me too well,” I grin, taking a sip of the coffee, and studying the gruesome scene before us. It was a mess.
The woman’s torso had been cut open like it would have been in an autopsy, and all of her internal organs were strewn about in the surrounding area. Thankfully they were being picked up by Forensics and sorted into various biohazard coolers. A good thing, too. I don’t feel like losing my appetite so early in the day.
“Well, it seems that Forensics has it down, so are we okay to go to the department and start reviewing the cases again? I don’t feel like being here much longer,” I sigh, pulling my coat tighter against myself, my breath creating a small cloud when I speak.
“Yeah, we can probably head back. Let me check with Forensics.” He then left me, going to talk with Forensics, making sure we were all clear to leave. He turned around, giving me a thumbs-up. I nodded and left for my car, which was hopefully still warm from having my heat on from the drive here. “It’s the start of September. Why is it so cooooooolllllldddd?”
“No idea, Anya. But suck it up!” Ugh, he’s always like this. I love Sloane—my boyfriend—to death, but he can be a bit…abrasive, to put it kindly.
“Talking to myself, Tyler!” Jeez, he forgets I yap to myself. I sigh as I get in my car, which is thankfully still warm. I then drove off to the precinct, which was about 20 more minutes away from the scene, listening to the radio as I drove.
…
I pull into the precinct and walk inside, greeting fellow officers, before taking a seat at my desk, pulling out all the previous case files, and looking them over once again, adding the new one in.
Ava Determan (1)
Drowned in the park lake. TOD: 2:22 AM. ~June 23, 2024
Noah Evans (2)
Shot with a gun. TOD: 3:33 AM. ~August 11, 2024
Gracie Anderson (3)
Electrocution and Strangulation. TOD: Undetermined. ~August 19, 2024
Elijah Thompson (4)
Poisoned (?) TOD: Undetermined ~August 25, 2024
Laney Hanson (5)
Internal Organs Removed. TOD: 1:11 AM. ~September 5

Five victims. Five different deaths. Five different crime scenes. Tyler comes in the precinct doors, not long after, walking over to my desk, and looking at the files as well.
“It’s awful, Tyler. Awful. Five victims in 4 months…”
“Awful is putting it nicely. By the way, did you see that that new whiteboard/pinboard came in for the briefing room? You should put things on there to help organize your thoughts.”
“Ooh, I did see it, but I never thought about it. Thank you for that thought!”
I grabbed the files and headed for the briefing room/big office, lining things up in chronological order, marking where the victims were up on a map, frowning. “That’s…weird. The scenes of the crimes are in a pentagon shape,” I mutter to myself. Tyler had followed me and was leaning in the doorway, listening to my mutterings.
“A pentagon? That’s weird. Did you line them up in chronological order?”
“Yes, I lined them up in chronological order, Tyler.”
“Not the victims themselves, the scenes.”
“How would I do that—it’s not like I can line up places in a single line.”
“No, no, no. Trace a line between all of the scenes. So you can see how they all line up chronologically.”
“Ooooh, I get it. Sorry, I’m a bit out of it today. I got maybe…3 hours of sleep,” I sighed, taking another sip of my coffee, grabbing a few pins and some string, and I started to line up the crime scenes in chronological order. My face paled, and I stood before the board in shock. I couldn’t believe it. The crime scenes…They line up to create a pentagram.
“Is this some kind of sick joke? What kind of person would call themselves an Angel and then make the crime scenes line up into a pentagram?!”
That’s when Mrs. Fedderson walked by, chirping in. “A sicko, that’s who!”
“Ah, Mrs. Fedderson. Good to see you…Uhm…can I speak to you after my shift tonight?”
“Of course, darling. I’ll be here all day. But, can’t we just speak now?”
“Ah, no. I’m busy right now. We’re making some breakthroughs,” I say as I start to line up the pictures of the victims on the whiteboard, writing their names next to their pictures. She shrugs and walks away, the squeaky wheel of her mop bucket getting quieter as she leaves. That’s when I see the next thing. I was always one for more cryptic cases, but this was next level. It was like the Angel was taunting us.
“Tyler, look! The names…The first letter of each first and last name…Look at what they spell…”
Ava Determan
Noah Evans
Gracie Anderson
Elijah Thompson
Laney Hanson

Tyler muttered it out, his eyes widening when he realized. “They spelled out their own…name? That’s messed up…And a bit egotistical, don’t you think?”
“It’s not exactly…egotistical, more taunting. Like they knew we’d figure this out. And in a religious town of all places… First, killing people in places that make a pentagram when mapped out, but spelling out their title? They’re taunting us. Trying to get a rise out of us. We can’t let this get out to the press, it’ll cause city-wide panic!”
“But what if that would help keep people safe?!”
After some deliberation, I answered reluctantly. “Fine. We can tell the press what we’ve found…”
“Thank you. You know it’s probably for the best.
Oh boy, were we wrong? People went into a panic. As if this already bad day couldn’t get any worse. I listened to the radio at my desk for hours on how people were stocking up on supplies because they planned on locking themselves in their houses.
“Jesus…here we go. It’s like another COVID but with a killer on the loose rather than a viral pandemic,” I groan, my face buried in my hands. I check the time on my clock, sighing. 7:47. Just like…13 more minutes until I get off work. 13 more minutes until I need to talk to Mrs. Fedderson.
“Tyler, I’m gonna take a small nap. Let me know if anything happens,” I call out. I’m so exhausted. I set a 13-minute timer, and I took a small nap. Once the timer went off, I woke up, regrettably more tired than before, and went to find Mrs. Olivia Fedderson. Everyone else was gone since they had earlier shifts. Tyler, too.
“Mrs. Fedderson? Are you still here?” I walked around, trying to find her. Eventually, I found her by the utility closet, putting some things away.
“Ah, Mrs. Fedderson. I was looking for you… Just humor me…did you happen to see anything strange on your drive home last night?”
“Ah, I did! I swear on the Lord’s good name that I saw a woman who looks an awful lot like you where that newest crime scene was!”
“You swear on the Lord’s name?”
“I do! Come to think of it, I tried to call out, and that woman sounded like you, too! I know it wasn’t you, of course, but then she ran away. I figured it was some homeless lady, the poor girl…”
“Right…Of course, it wasn’t. Why would I do that? I’m a homicide detective.”
“That woman gave me a bit of a scare, though.”
“What time would you say you saw her?”
“Around 1:05 AM…Why?”
“…I see. Thank you, Mrs. Fedderson. Just trying to see who I saw drive by me around then.”
“What?”
“I said I was trying to see who drove past me there.”
“Ms. Anya! You didn’t!”
“Did what?”
“Murder that poor girl! You didn’t!”
“Oh, but I did, Mrs. Fedderson. I killed them all,” I say, grinning, approaching maliciously. My gaze flicks to the heavy wooden cross hanging from her janitorial cart. I quickly grabbed, it, and…after that, I don’t remember what happened. It wasn’t until I was wiping the blood off my hands I even knew she was dead… I walked by the supply closet and tossed the bloody cross onto the body.
“Suits you right, I guess. Have fun in Hell.”
I kept walking back down the hall, waving at the security camera. I didn’t bother to hide my face. I’ll just come in like normal…

…
I came in at my normal time the next day, and there stood Tyler, waiting for me, his expression a mix of anger, confusion, fear, hatred, sheer terror…
“Morning, Tyler. What’s wrong?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Anya. We saw the footage!”
“Tyler, I- I can explain!”
“The Angel’s been under our noses this whole time…”
“Tyler, please, listen to me!”
“I can’t believe my Angel has fallen—so far that now, she’s Death’s, wearing his wings instead of mine.”
“Tyler…I…” He really had to go and use my nickname. His little Angel.
“Enough, Anya.”
“Tyler, I did it for you…I did it for love!”
“You caused religious panic across the whole town!”
“I did it because I love you!”
“I thought I loved you, too. But you lead me astray, and let me love a killer.”
“The most dangerous thing to do is to love.”
“I can’t believe you.”

The next thing I know, my arms are being pulled behind my back, and the cold metal of handcuffs is being tightened around my wrists by my own lover.
“Little tight there, Tyler.” That only got a scowl and the handcuffs tightened in response.
“You know where you’re going, don’t you, Anya?”
“I’d assume prison.”
“You know what assuming does, Anya.”
“Yeah, yeah. It makes an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’.”
“Yeah. You’re going to Trans-Allenghey Lunatic Asylum.”
“So there is something going on there!”
“Shut up.”
“You’re so cold to me, Tyler. What happened to the occasional ‘I love you,’ huh?”
“You know what you did.”
“I still love you, Tyler.”
“It’s a shame those feelings aren’t returned, anymore.”
Tyler drags her out to one of the cars, taking her badge and credentials, and shoves her in, slamming the door shut. “She’s going to Trans-Allenghey. With the rest of the freaks.”
That was the last I ever saw or heard from my boyfriend. That’s the last I saw or heard from anyone. They put me in solitary. However, they let me write. So, here I sit. In my sad padded cell, with a small barred window providing me hardly enough light as I write, telling you my tale.
A word to the wise, my dear readers, take a break from being the bigger person. Commit murder, and never let a soul live to tell the tale of your crimes. Trust me, it’s quite refreshing. Then you can have a whole lot of fun in solitary. It’s like the best experience you could ask for. No shitty cellmates, and three meals a day, and free health care.
Good luck.

A Former User

@Your-Local-Ghostface-Simp

one of those dates are my birthday-

i’m going to read this later, it seems cool omg

Wubbrle the [REDACTED]

@Your-Local-Ghostface-Simp EDIT: its actually a story mb

A Former User

@Your-Local-Ghostface-Simp That’s actually smth I’d read more than twice.

Wubbrle the [REDACTED]

@Youre_Just_A_Pun_To_Put_It_Politely im not that kinda murder killer blood type of guy liking those stories but this sounds interesting lol so ima probably read it

@Wubbrle-the-Wubble oh yeah, it’s a whole story- Exactly 6 pages in Google Docs.

@Youre_Just_A_Pun_To_Put_It_Politely TYYY!! <33

A Former User

@Your-Local-Ghostface-Simp YWWWW !! <3

@Youre_Just_A_Pun_To_Put_It_Politely I spent like a week writing this

A Former User

@Your-Local-Ghostface-Simp A WEEK???

@Youre_Just_A_Pun_To_Put_It_Politely INDEED. I PLANNED THIS OUT SO MUCH

A Former User

@Your-Local-Ghostface-Simp I COULD NEVER

@Youre_Just_A_Pun_To_Put_It_Politely yeah, this is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written.
And like- yes this is the finished product for the school prompt, but I’m totally gonna come back to this at some point and edit it and make it longer.

Wubbrle the [REDACTED]

@Your-Local-Ghostface-Simp guess what im also writing a story in school which got over 15.000 words, 17.412 to be exact but no more school for 2-3 weeks

Killer Instincts (COMPLETED) TW: Murder/Death

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