I’ve been a killer since I was eleven. I currently have my 23rd victim chained up downstairs. I’ve got killing down to a science now. I like to take my time about it. While 23 waits downstairs to find out what happens, I’m sitting upstairs on my comfy sofa, listening to the local news, drinking a beer and watching 23 on the security monitor as she hopelessly wriggles around trying to free herself.

Most regular killers fail because they get sloppy. Serial killers tend to be a different breed. I don’t personally know any others, but I’ve studied their work and have learned from their mistakes. For instance, rule number three: never leave any evidence. I don’t keep trophies of my kills. I don’t leave even the slightest trace of any of my kills. I have my memories to keep me warm at night.

The fact that I’m so cautious has allowed me to go on killing for 23 years. I don’t think those stupid cops even know that my kills are related, which brings me to rule number two: never kill the same way twice. Most serial killers get stuck on just one way to kill. They use a ritualized method over and over again. Where’s the fun in that? I like experimenting. I’ve never used the same technique twice, so it’s much harder to tie all my kills to me. Those cops will never figure it out unless I let them or I get sloppy.

Obviously, all of my kills are unsolved, but a few years back, they threw a couple of innocent blokes in the pokey for one of mine. It pissed me off, but better them than me. I’m not one of those killers that needs recognition.

For me, it’s not about the killing itself, but about the struggle beforehand. It’s about the anticipation and the chase. I spend months tracking a victim before I finally bring them home. I keep mine sometimes as long as a week before I get rid of them. It really all depends on how hard the authorities are looking for them. I try not to choose people that would be missed, but you never really know until you pick them up. If the disappearance of a kill makes it onto the television news, I usually get rid of them within a day or two. If not, then I can take my time. I don’t really enjoy the killing part as much as the chase, but you can’t just let someone go free after you’ve kept them in a basement for as much as a week. There’s just no telling what little detail they might recall that would do me in. No, it’s much safer just to kill them. Never leave any evidence.

My favorite kill, besides my first (the first is always the best), was the one that got away. 7 was a crafty little thing. I never would have guessed she had it in her. She was really two kills in one since I got to chase her twice.

That early on, I hadn’t really perfected my storage system. I didn’t have the cameras yet and I hadn’t installed the shackles or cage. I used to tie them up with rope! Can you imagine? What an amateur I was. Anyway, as I was sleeping one night, 7 somehow chewed through her ropes and made it upstairs. I woke up on the sofa to the sound of the screen door out back flapping against the house. I always shut it tightly because it has a tendency to do that if you don’t latch it all the way.

I went to shut the door and saw a flash of white at the edge of the woods. I knew right away. The second chase was even more intoxicating than the first. What a thrill! 7 knew it, too. We were hunter and deer running through the woods with only the moon to light our way. Of course, I had the upper hand since I knew the terrain and had shoes on my feet. It was inevitable that I would catch her.

I kept 7 for three days after that, even though I shouldn’t have. She became near and dear to my heart, and I will never forget her. She showed me the error of my ways. If not for her, I might still be an amateur; using ropes with no cameras. Sometimes, in memory of 7, I want to set the kills free again just so I can have a second chase, but I know how risky that would be. I have to be satisfied with only one chase a year. Any more than that would be too dangerous. But I’ll never forget the look on 7’s face as she sat looking up at me from the ground where she fell.