When a crowd of about hundred sit awaiting to absorb every spoken word, it is really easy. All it takes is a word to motivate them. Some more words, meticulously chosen to elevate the sociopath to serial killer.
She did that. Chased the killers.
She came to the stage. She only losers in front of her. Losers who never sought to achieve anything. Who whined and made excuses. Ordinary people. Worthless people. If she could she would kill and eat those losers.
She has done that before.
Yet she put her best smile and began speaking. She spoke of the audience’s common troubles. Divorce. Mortgage. Depths. Depression. And so on and so forth.
She spoke with perfect empathy. She never blamed the audience. Yet she showed them their mistakes. People loved that. She kept speaking. Once in a while she picked people from the crowd and spoke with them.
So boring this was.
She sensed a predator halfway through. Someone like her. Somewhere in the back. Hidden yet easy to spot. He wore a black fennel shirt. Looked like a loser, just like the crowd.
She maintained her eye contact with him for enough time to make him aware. She knows.
As she finished her speech and went backstage she awaited him. If he was like her he would come. And she would play with him. Play with him before she killed him.
How would it be this time? Slicing his throat? Strangulation? Stabbing? She didn’t have her gun so no shooting.
As she thought of more intimate ways to play and kill she went to pee.
What she didn’t realize is there was a serial bomber active.
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