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The Break-In

by

Nighthawk

The backdoor opened easily, the lock being old, he smiled when he saw how easy it would be, he had
watched them leave five minutes ago, it was hard to just stand and wait, but he waited until he was
sure they weren’t coming back.

He was badly in need of a fix, he needed money and he needed it now walking into the kitchen, then
the living room, they had money that was for sure, a big screen TV anchored to the wall, all the
equipment that went with it.

A large spacious room, all the trappings of wealth, showed in this room,  over the fire place, hung a
painting of the family, showing the two that he saw in the car, and of an older boy, who looked to be in
his early twenty’s, and then the little princess, a beautiful blue eyed blond, staring back at him, as she
stood along side her father, his arm draped protectively around her shoulder, she looked to be
eighteen or nineteen.

All the things that were in that room for him to steal, and he didn’t have wheels, to take any of it away,
he needed something light like her jewelry. His body shivered, his hands never still now, even with
the drugs they trembled.

He left the room, going into the kitchen to see if he could hold down a sandwich, but his stomach
wouldn’t let him, and he ended up tossing it in the garbage heading up the large stairwell, admiring
the paintings that hung on the wall, remembering back when he was a struggling artist.

Before he screwed that up to, and went to prison, entering the bedroom to the right, this had to be the
little princess’s room, a big stuffed teddy bear sat in between her pillows, posters of today’s kings of
rock, plastered all over the walls, a black bra hanging off the bed post.

Everywhere he turned, she was there, her perfume hanging in the air, the bedding crumpled, sheets
in disarray, he opened her panty drawer, touching the silkiness, lifting one to his nose and smelt her
scent, breathing it in deeply, his mind wanting, knowing he has been with out for so long.

Finally turning and entering the large bedroom to the left, the middle aged couples, smiling faces
stared out at him, from the silver framed photograph on her dresser, he saw that she was very pretty,
he now knew where the daughter got her looks, he saw her fleetingly as they backed out of the
driveway, but at that time, he was more interested in getting into the house.

His thoughts turned now to looking for her jewelry, or something he could give to his dealer, his itch
was long past making him edgy, his hand shook as he opened her dresser drawers, spilling her bras,
slips, and panties all over the floor, finding nothing.

Opening the closet, throwing her dresses, slacks, jeans intermingled with blouses and sweaters out
onto the floor, getting desperate, then behind her husbands suits shirts and ties, which now lay
intermingled with her clothes he finally found a locked safe, built into the wall, he tried  to pry it open
with the screwdriver that he had used on the door, but knew that was just foolish.

He turned to head downstairs to find a hammer, and something to smash the lock off, when he heard
the front door open, and a lilting voice, lifted up the staircase….Mom are you still home? Hearing no
response, she said I guess not, we have the house to our self, and he heard giggling coming from
downstairs.

SHIT, was his first thought, as he stood in the middle of the mess that he had strewn all around him, his
hand shaking, looking around desperately for a way out, one bedroom window overlooked a brick
patio two stories down, the other, another two story drop, a decorative spiked, rot iron fence lining a
flagstone walk.

She yelled as she started to climb the steps, I’ll be right back, he froze, his mind screaming at him…..I
can’t go to jail…….His mind remembering the last time, they sent him up, that’s how he got his habit in
the first place, trying to shut out the memories of the three, who entered his cell, bending him over his
bunk, he tried to fight, and it almost cost him his life, as his fingers traced the eight inch knife scar on
his stomach.

Never again, he promised himself……never fucking again…..he was standing behind the door,
hugging himself trying to stop the shakes, he heard her rummage around in her room, for long
minutes, and then heard her footsteps, coming closer.

When she came into the room, standing, her back to him, tall, blond, eighteen, and beautiful, for a
moment eying the piles of cloths tossed on the floor,  her hands flew to her mouth, frightened thinking
that someone may still be in the room, then she heard him behind her, her young body tensed, an
instant from screaming.

He reached out just to quiet her, putting his hand over her mouth, drawing her body into his,
stammering out in a shaky whisper, his voice cracking in his fright, telling her he was sorry, telling her
he just wanted to go, pleading with her not to call the cops, she, wouldn’t listen, as she struggled, her
screaming muffled by his hand.

She twisted trying to escape out of his grip, he was beyond letting her go now, not realizing what he
was doing, scared shitless, that he was going to go back to prison, his other hand wrapped around
her, crushing her breasts, her hands swinging, fighting slapping, scratching, she was twisting, turning,
in her anger and fright trying to escape his grasp.

And in the struggle he heard a snap. Her struggles ceased, she relaxed then in his arms, and only then
did he notice her neck twisted over her shoulder, a small flow of wetness escaping from her mouth,
making his fingers that held her jaw, sticky with her blood.

Her legs would no longer support her, and he let her slide down his body, until she lay curled, on the
plush beige carpet, he kneeled next to her lifting her shoulders up off the floor, shaking her, her head
bent at an odd angle, feeling for her pulse, knowing he wouldn’t find one, but trying anyway, she can’t
be dead, his mind thundered, oh God he invoked,  a name that seldom passed his lips, except when he
was angry.

As he held her limp body her friend called up the stairwell, Frannie hurry up, we only have an hour to
get to practice, her yell was met by silence, as she stood at the bottom step, wondering why Frannie
was taking so long , he touched her cheek, tears sliding from his eyes, he wanted to scream out to her
friend, get the fuck out of here, Frannie aint going nowhere.

He kneeled on both knees, holding her up, as she sat on the floor, her legs bent, one crossing the
other, her twisted neck laying over his arm, her beautiful blue eyes not yet dulling, but blankly looking
into nothing, his knees getting wet from the small puddle of urine that was soaking into the carpet  
around her.

He looked down, and saw her crouch and thighs were wet, and he giggled, not knowing why, his
shaking was making her long blond hair dance, her hair hung just an inch off the floor, and he was
mesmerized as it swayed, but he couldn’t stop shaking, his nerves were to far gone.

His mind drifted to the inane, thinking that the only hands that were now going to explore her young
body, were going to be those of the coroners. God he invoked once again, help me, help me, his mind
started to put the blame on her, thinking if she would have only quieted down, I wasn’t going to hurt
her, it was her fault, not mine, I’m not a murderer, .

Melvin Pearland, class A fuck up, that was him, to lazy to work, in and out of trouble since he was ten,
that was him for sure, but not a murderer, never a murder, and with that thought Frannie’s body
jerked, as if to say….then who in the hell did this, and he dropped her, almost throwing her on the
floor, in his fright.

He stood, backing several steps away, looking at her twisted body, almost expecting her to rise, and
then his shaking returned, he didn’t really know if she jerked or not now, thinking that maybe he just
imagined it

He went back to her, picking her limp body up off of the floor, moving her tenderly to her parents bed,
the yelling started to get louder, Frannie damn it we got to go, and then he heard the footsteps as she
started to climb up the stairwell steps.

He knew he should just run now, and take his chances, just throw her out of the way and leave, but his
nerves and fear overshadowed his thinking, and he backed away from the bed, getting as far away
from Frannie as he could, trying to disappear, his head swiveling, to find somewhere, anywhere to
hide.

hearing her soft footsteps as she entered the other bedroom, he heard her in exasperation call out
Frannie, Goddamn it, where are you?

And then she was there, as the pretty little brunette poked  her head around the door way, she saw
Frannie laying on top of the big bed, at first it didn’t register to her, and she started to say something
smart….you lazy….left her mouth, then her eyes adjusted, to the dim light, and her smile disappeared.

She saw Frannie’s eyes and the blank look on her face,  the drying blood on her cheek, and then she
saw him looking back at her, she screamed, in panic her brain shut down, her feet not moving, her
large brown eyes, got even larger, looking back at Frannie looking so small, so still. laying crooked on
the large bed, and the screams erupted, one after another.

Melvin heard the screaming, his eyes closed as his whole body tensed,  just wanting to shut the
screaming up, he jerked, his nerves making his whole body twitch……SHUT UP……SHUT UP……SHUT
THE FUCK UP……Melvin yelled out as the brunette took her screaming up a notch, her head swiveling
between Frannie, and Melvin, her feet still rooted to the floor.

The next thing Melvin knew he was straddling her prone body, with his hands around her throat, his
eyes regained focus, and his brain started to function once again, the little brunette was staring up at
him, her eyes were as blank as Frannie’s had been, her face red, the whites of her eyes  stained red
from broken blood vessels.

Her tongue, peeked over her blue tinged lips, saliva mixed with sweat, covered her cheeks, and the
wetness from her mouth covered his knuckles, he didn’t know how long his hands had been around
her throat, but they were cramping, they both hurt like hell, and she was dead.

He released her then, not really knowing what to do, still kneeling over the top of her, staring at her, if
she would only have stopped screaming he thought, as a flash back hit him, he saw himself rushing
her, knocking her down, he felt his face remembering her fingernails, digging into his flesh.

Then his memories faded, and he slowly got off of her, his next thought was to flee, he started
downstairs, taking the steps two at a time, almost to the back door, then remembering the safe,
Goddamn it he thought, back to his usual use of the deity’s name, I got to get a fix, he searched for
some tools in the basement and found a chisel and hammer, he reached the top of the stairwell, when
his brain flashed back again.

He felt her underneath him, fighting for her life, feeling her squirm, her legs kicking, he remembered
as he stood frozen on the top step, her fight, for survival, as sweat broke out on his brow, horrible
memories flashed through his brain, he tried to shut them out, but it was impossible to do so.

As he stood there shaking, the one thing he tried to deny, time after time was the enjoyment he felt, as
she fought underneath him, but he couldn’t, it kept flashing to the fore front of his thoughts, no matter
how many times he pushed it away, he remembered how excited he was, when he was strangling her,
the thought that he could kill someone made him sick, but as much as he tried he couldn’t deny that he
enjoyed it.

He knew when she was twisting, throwing her hips in the air trying to knock him off, feeling her body’s
muscles flex and strain beneath him that for the first time in two years he got an erection, and when
she quivered as her hands fought to pull his away, and then fell to lay by the side of her head and
twitch, he climaxed.

Melvin sat down on the top step, with tears in his eyes, remembering it all now, and it made him
physically sick, but he couldn’t stop his thoughts, and he started to retch.

His shoulders shaking violently as he dry heaved, it took him ten minutes to regain his strength, he
slowly stood, and went to her, seeing her laying staring up at him, her sightless eyes still followed him
as he came to her, he knelt beside her, his teardrops splattered on her now still breasts.

Looking at the reddish purple bruise that encircled her neck, remembering the feel of the muscles in
her throat, fighting to give her breath, to give her life, his hands still tingled from the pressure that he
used to kill her, and with that thought he tenderly touched her throat, whispering I‘m so sorry.

Melvin picked her up, gently, as a lover would, carrying her to the bed, carrying her to where Frannie
laid, when he held her in his arms, He remembered, the moment she died, her fighting had ceased, a
short while before, but it was when her whole body relaxed,  it just stopped, it was the strangest thing
he had ever felt, one minute she was living, all of the muscles in her body on fire, he felt her quivering
through his hands, in the next she was quite. In that moment he knew she was gone.

He remembered that it was then, that he ejaculated, as her hands fell from his wrists, to lay stretched
above her head, her legs straightened, her feet that were once kicking digging into the carpet,
quieted to no longer shuffle, he remembered it all now, every second, every detail, and he felt himself
starting to stiffen again.

************************************************************

Standing outside the now opened safe, hammer and chisel in his hand, Melvin’s eyes glowed, he
finally hit the jackpot, finding a nickel plated automatic, fully loaded, a thousand and twenty five
dollars, in cash, and some very expensive jewelry, but his thoughts kept returning to the pretty little
brunette, laying next to Frannie, on the king sized bed, twenty feet away.

Melvin felt like a different man, as he pocketed the money putting the shiny gun in the back of his
jeans tucking his shirt over the handle, his nerves settled, the shakes quelled, lady luck finally smiled
down upon him, he thought of the jail term slang, that he had heard so often, of someone making his
bones, and he laughed to himself, remembering how that once disgusted, and scared him.

Now he felt a kinship to all those that bragged,  I should have done this years ago, he thought, as he
walked back over to her.

Touching her still warm body, his penis starting to harden, as he worked her limp arms out of the
sleeves of her white sweater, she was his now, he owned her he thought, calmer now then he has
been in months, setting her slight body up, her long brown hair spilling over his chest as she leaned
into him.

He pulled her sweater off and over her head. Watching as she moved, she was so fluid, her head now
laying backwards past her shoulders, bobbing with his movement of removing her clothing, her blank
brown eyes staring upward.

Unsnapping her bra, then laying her back gently, not letting her head fall to the pillow, but laying her
down tenderly, rolling her a little to straighten her twisted body, to have her laying facing him, her
nipples, were pink, and engorged, as though she was as excited, to be undressed by him, as he was to
undress her.

Melvin removed her shoes, leaving her socks on, reaching up to unbutton and pull her jeans off,
slipping the tight material down her smooth legs, bringing her body with them as he pulled, then lifting
her back onto the pillow.

Her pink thong and white socks were all that was left to remove, which he did slowly, showing that her
trimmed bush, was sticky wet, as was the crouch of her thong, and he hoped that her climax was at the
same time as his, he felt closer to her then, as funny as that sounds, he felt almost like they had made
passionate love, instead of his killing her.

Turning to the blond, he thought of removing her clothing to, but he wasn’t as excited to undress her,
as he had been the brunette, her death he thought of as an accident, where the brunette was his first
kill, its funny he thought, that I think of her that way, but he knew as sure as he stood there, that she
wouldn‘t be his last.

He had been so scared, and he had been truly sad that she died, but now he was calm, he didn’t even
want the fix any longer, he held his hand straight out in front of him, and for the first time, in two years,
his hand was as steady as a rock.

Melvin caressed the brunette once more, closing her dulling eyes, and slowly walked out of the room,
down the stairs, and out the back door, the sun was bright and hot, as he made his way down the quite
sidewalk, he started thinking of all those that wronged him, and of the warmth of the gun on the small
of his back, he walked straight, and with confidence, for the first time in his life...


A story by Nighthawk
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Comment from: Moon Shiner
Date: January 29, 2012

Hello NightHawk.

One of my favorites of your stories.

The idea that a drug addicted loser, could be changed into a confident, straight
walking killer, shows the true addiction of this fetish.

Your story is filled with great human characteristics, trembling hands, unable to
take food, his sudden fright of being caught, all overwhelmed by his need for a
fix.

All very believable attributes of a addict.  The descriptions of the girls carefree
attitude, giggling and taunting each other, typical.  It lulls the reader into a
common mistake.

The accidental killing of the first young woman, just like the addict easing into
the habit, by tiny steps, he again is driven, by a small success to bigger and
more dangerous acts.  The second girl, building his confidence, along with the
money and gun, now walking out of the house, a full fledged killer.

A powerful theme and great story, my friend.

Hope to see more my friend.
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Comment from: Nighthawk
Date: January 30,  2011

Thank you Moon

I have to say that I truly loved your story, of Grace, and I hope to read many,
many more from you!!!

NH
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Comment from: Moon Shiner
Date: February 1, 2012

I'm currently working on another, if you have the time, and don't mind, I would
like to continue our past exchanges in this area.

I'm trying to locate some old ones, that I really liked to join your fine creation
here.

Your top fan, NH.

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Comment from: Nighthawk
Date: February 2, 2012

Moon

Hi my friend, of course you can send me your story, I would love to read it as in
the past.

But my friend you do not need me to help, you never did, I was probably more of
a hindrance then help, you are a very fine writer, just look at the comments you
have received, I'm certainly not the only one that thinks so.

NH


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Comment from: Grace X
Date: February 2, 2012

Nighthawk I am so impressed with this! You have a real "true crime" feel to your
writing and the psychology is presented is such fascinating depth!
Well done indeed!


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Comment from: Nighthawk
Date: February 2, 2012

Grace

I thank you so much, I can die happy now, that I have impressed a beautiful
woman.

I would like to ask you, for your permission, to use you as a character in one of
my stories, if I may, I will try to please you.

Thank you again for your kind words.

NH
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Comment from: Grace X
Date: February 2, 2012

Thank you for the nice compliment Nighthawk honey, and you would impress
any woman with sense!

And yes, I would be thrilled if you would like to use me as a character in one of
your stories. I'm flattered and delighted!

XX Grace
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Comment from: Moon Shiner
Date: February 10, 2012

NightHawk,
I'm glad to hear I wasn't the only one to be lured by this woman with sultry dark
eyes and a heart to match.

I'm a great fan of your stories, my friend.
I know you will please her with your delicate demise tale.

_
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Comment from: egeek
Date: June 20, 2012

I liked the character emotions he had. Killing those girls opened up different
emotions. He did want to but it just happened. He felt sick at first but then also
felt aroused over what he did. A character transformation basically. A mistake
that changed his life.
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