>"So Mr. Wittacker. Why?" You ask feigning interest
>"No fucking ANTHRO deserves that kind of purity or innocence. It needs to be taken, punished, ruined, broken. But you know that Detective, don't you." He says
>"Of course but why?" You press
>In the corner of your eyes you see a figure
>It moves to the corner shrouded in an unfitting shadow
>"Because, we're human, better in every way than a fucking ANTHRO, hardly even sapient, barely more than the animals they resemble." He reasons
>"I understand" You say leaving the room
>You grab his phone and phonebook
>You relish in each dial you make
>The bishop, the pastors, the principles, deans, and judges
>You leave a message to each and every one
>"Hi, its the Detective. I've found the killer. Meet me at Mr. Wittacker's home on Christmas Day if you'd like to meet him before we turn him over."
>Just as you say that more figures begin to appear
>And Mr. Wittacker begins to panic as you take your potato peeler out.
>"Can you see them too Mr. Wittacker?" You ask madness in your eyes
>"I can see your sins" You ramble
>"They haunt me more than you seemingly" You continue
>"What are doing?" He says paniced
>"The police won't do anything" You say
>"I figure I need to give back to my community" You say pressing the tool against the skin of his back
>"Now I'm sure we can work something out." He pleads
>"You're right! It would be a shame to open the gift before Christmas" You say reaching for the battery and alligator clamps
>You cut his pants off with a knife, not caring if you cut him
>He screams
>Nothing new
>You take the clamps and place them on his balls
>And then connect
>He shrieks
>Like a sinner in hell
>You punch him in the gut
>Over and over
>You remove the clamps and sit down again
>"Wasn't that fun?" You say to the sobbing man
>"Now I'll ask again. Was it really you?" You demand
>"Yes." He says unchanging
>You sit there waiting for the night to end, occasionally waterboarding him in the diesel
>You get hungry and eat his food
>You watch his t.v
>And as the sun rises the news caster talks about you
>How you're promising to meet Mr. Wittacker to tell him of the killer's identity
>You can hear the murmurs of a growing crowd outside
>At 9 Am you open the doors
>The crowd is in terror as to what they see
>"I promised the killer" You call to the two dozen odd people
>You hand the lead city investigator your crate of evidence before he can speak
>"Now, I know our amazing policemen won't do anything. So I found him, and he admitted it before I began to get some justice." You laugh.
>You lower Mr. Wittacker to the ground.
>"Now I leave you to them." You laugh seeing the figures begin to form around him
>Mr. Wittacker begins to start shrieking again
>Claw marks begin to appear across his face and arms
>The news team vomit as chunks of flesh being to be rendered from his limbs
>You smile as you watch the girls get their justice
>He starts screaming about how they deserved it
>How it was their fault
>And as his sins slowly begin to rip the flesh from his bone like piranhas
>You go the back of the garage
>And lift the rug by his tool bench
>Finding a shaft to some other chamber within the home
>You climb down it as the police finally realize what's happening
>At the bottom you hear crying
>A camcorder pointed at a crying girl
>A young falcon
>"Are you okay?" you ask
>"No, where am I?" She sobs
>"The serial killer's home" You say
>"Don't worry, he can't hurt anyone anymore" You say
>You pick her up like a piggy back
>And climb up the ladder.
>Mr. Wittacker is hiding in the barrel of diesel
>"Here officers make sure this girl makes it home safely, she was to be the next victim" You say handing the girl off.
>The officers turn to face you as you reach for a cigarette
>One you stole from Wittacker
>You put one Wittacker's mouth
>As if to light it before dropping it in the fuel
>It catches
>"oops" You say
>It burns your arm but you pull back before it sticks
>Mr. Wittacker is screaming
>You leave
>Getting in your car
>As you arrive home you see a figure standing by you desk
>"Thanks"