He looked at me, I looked at him. “Not bad” he said “I could get used to the taste I suppose”. He didn’t say anymore, he just climbed back i...to his bed. I lay there not really believing what had just happened. I suppose I drifted off to sleep because I remember waking up to hear loud heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, someone tripped and hissed “Fucking stairs” and I heard a door open and then a soft “Thump”. Michael was sat upright in his bed. He didn’t look over to me but said as he went. John Derringer rose early every morning and leaving the house every day like clock work at Seven every morning. He would sit in his van waiting for a young child to take from their yard. Once he had his victim he would drive out to the country to his secret place that not even his wife knew about. Once inside he would abuse his victim for hours on end before killing them. He would chuckle to himself as he cleaned away any trace of anyone being there, right down to chopping up his victim, then. More

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