I awaken to the vexatious buzzing sound of my alarm clock that is vigorously yelling at me to start my day. Birds chirp from outside my windowsill, vibrant leaves fall to the ground as the trees start to shed, the light smell of morning dew drifts into my nose; autumn is beginning to appear around me. I walk to my wooden dresser that stands at the opposite side of my room and begin to look through my many shirts and pants trying to decide what to wear. I come to the determination that a striped polo with straight-cut jeans will work just fine for today’s endeavours. 

     As I make my way downstairs to the kitchen I overhear the radio changing to a breaking news story, “This just in; Toronto has a suspected serial killer on the loose!” A news spokesman sharply announced. “If you’re a woman living in Toronto, Ontario be sure to keep yourself safe and report any suspicious people or activity.” I became inquisitive about what the news would say next so I sat down at the kitchen table to listen. The news spokesman went on to describe the acts that had taken place; numerous women had been kidnapped and murdered over the previous few weeks and the police had started locating their bodies scattered throughout the city. After the spokesman finished his bit the radio returned to the normal broadcast of songs, discussions, and ads. I began to make my morning coffee before going out for breakfast: I could get coffee with my breakfast but no other coffee compares to the premium blend I ordered from Cuba; I swear it tastes like heaven. 

     I turned on my ford truck and remembered that I have to take it into the shop for a paint repair sometime this week. I jumped in and started making my way downtown where my favourite diner was located. As I pass by city hall I see a crowd gathered near the steps, I assume they are there regarding the city serial killer but can’t say for sure. After another 5 or so minutes I finally arrive at the diner and park in my usual spot, right next to the back wall of the building. I hear the old-style music playing in the background as I walk in, and see my favourite server come towards me. “Hi, Jason!” She exclaims, “Hi sweetheart.” I respond as I do every day. I walk alongside her to my table next to the window, and tell her my usual; “2 scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.” I watch as she writes down the order in her little black notepad, her handwriting seems surprisingly big for such small hands she has. 

     I patiently wait for my order and as I do I catch a glimpse of an angel; dark blue ocean eyes, wavy blonde hair, and a smile that could blind any man. She’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, her skin looks soft like a baby, and her dimples sink into her cheeks when she smiles. I imagine her laugh, oh how beautiful it must be, she seems like the woman to cover her mouth when she laughs, but maybe not, I guess I would never know. She could very well have a hideous laugh, she could sound like a hyena for all I know. She disappears into the supermarket across the street, her image is scorched into my brain and I wait to see if she exits but she does not - I assume that is because she works there, but I am not certain. My meal finally makes its arrival at my table and I start to eat; first the eggs, then the toast, then the bacon - always the same. 

     I sit in my truck with the radio on listening to country music, I’m waiting for someone...I’m waiting for her, the angel from earlier. I can’t stop thinking about her, how perfect she looked and how gentle she seemed. I have been searching for the perfect one, the perfect woman, the perfect victim to please my needs. I would do anything to have her as my own, she was perfect, I thought the rest were perfect at first, but they all disappointed me. I have a good sense that she is better than the others, she is the truly perfect one, she will not disappoint me, at least I hope. 

     I wait hours in my truck until it gets dark and I see her leave the supermarket. I am a big strong man, so it is easy for me to overpower these small women; the hard part though isn’t to overpower them, it’s to make sure no one sees or hears you whilst doing it. I silently follow behind her in my truck leaving my headlights off, she doesn’t see me as I stop my truck, jump out and snatch her. She fights with me; kicking and scratching, until I can incapacitate her and tie her up with the duct tape I have stashed away in the back of the truck. 

     I arrive back home and carry her limp body to my basement where I chain her arm to one of the many silver pipes. I go upstairs and take a shower, enjoying the water droplets glide down my chest and the soap spuds float in my hair. I change into my nighttime attire; boxer shorts, and a tank, and head to my bed. Laying down I think of all the things I will do with her when tomorrow comes, I wonder what her name might be; Jessica? Hannah? I’m not sure, I look forward to asking her in the morning. As I close my eyes the room fades to darkness and I feel the void of sleep consume me. 

     I awaken just as I did the previous day with the same buzzing, the same autumn smells, and sights but today is different. I have a new woman, someone that I have to learn about and spend my time with. I am overcome with excitement, so I run downstairs to the basement with no interest to change first, wouldn’t want to waste such valuable time now would I? She is laying on the floor as I get downstairs, but she must have heard a stair creak or something because she quickly jumps awake in fright. I tell her she does not need to worry as I will care for her now, but she has seen the news stories already; I can tell by the fearful expression that is painted over her face.

     I move in closer to touch her and she jerks back, this deeply enrages me; she is mine, I chose her, I should get to touch her. I go back in for another try and this time she gives in and allows me to put my hand on her cold soft cheek. Her skin is exactly as I thought it would feel like, and her hair is soft and silky just as I imagined. I ask her, “What is your name?” She does not respond, so I ask again in a louder more serious tone, “What is your name?!” Her lips quiver as she speaks, “B-B-Brittany.” Her name is so beautiful, better than any other I have heard, and I have heard a lot. “What a beautiful name sweetheart,” I tell her as tears stream down her round face. I tell her that everything will be okay if she only does what I ask, she agrees but I’m doubtful that she means it. 

     I head upstairs once again to make us each a cup of my special coffee, it’s not every day I have a special guest so I must celebrate the occasion. I can smell the potent coffee dripping into the pitcher as it brews; strong, bold flavours infused into a couple of beans,  I must say, it is an astonishing process. I pick up both cups but immediately drop them once hearing the radio turn back to the news spokesman announcing that the police had a suspect: me. I listened as he stated, “Late last night another woman, Brittany Davis was abducted. The police had no leads until camera footage of a truck sitting outside the victim’s workplace was found. The truck is owned by Jason Miller who witnesses say was sitting at a diner across the street earlier that morning. The police are still trying to locate this man, if you see him please call 911 immediately.” I am overwhelmed with an intense crushing feeling, I struggle to breathe, I become an anxious wreck. “What am I going to do?” I think to myself. The only option I have is to get rid of her, kill her and dump her, no one will ever know it was me that took her, there’s no proof - right?

     I sprint downstairs where Brittney sits sobbing, I tell her that I am going to take her away from this place. She can be somewhere with no pain or sadness, she can be with God. I grab the long blade from my red toolkit that I keep downstairs for repair purposes and hold it tightly in my hand. I imagine myself slicing her neck, all the blood and mess, but what other option is there? I go towards her, and she starts screaming for me to stop and to let her go, “Please! No! Don’t Do This! Please!” I stare at her into her deep eyes, “It’s for the best, you were too perfect to be.” I am sad that I must do this but I guess nothing is ever actually perfect, I was wrong; she is not the perfect woman. I hold the knife against her throat, and - BANG 

     I feel a warm and tingly feeling spread throughout my chest, I see many figures stand above me as I begin to drift away. I will wait for my perfect woman to greet me someday, but until then, I allow the world to collapse around me - into nothingness.