The Jesus Christ Killer

My car was steadfast in thundering jolts of confusion when I first saw him. In a dramatically cinematic moment, with lights fading and flickering in horroresque omnipotence, my eyes met his. This was my introduction to the killer. My heart sank as I gazed his unruly visage and noticed his disfigurement. We were the only occupants of the car and it would be impossible to avoid the awkwardness of the mutual exchange of body language that ensued. I tried to just nod in a friendly manner to suggest my understanding of his existence but somehow my graitousness was rejected. Instead his hellion stare peirced my comfort and left me cold and nervous. His eyes flickered reflections in glowing pulses in phase with shuddering of the lights. I felt increasingly uneasy as I found my self the sole object of his stare. The tension would not have budged if not for the opening of the doors for the next stop of waiting commuters, eager to get home on this particularly dreary evening. Only two others entered our car and instead of the police officer and bodyguard I might have hoped for to ensure my protection, I got a little girl and a little old lady, the two most defenseless options I could have had. My mind was telling me to look away and to avoid at all costs the glare of the demon's peering sight but I could not. I could not tell if the mutilations were burns or boils or something else. Possibly they were result of a horrible accident or maybe just a defect from birth or symptoms of an illness. Either way they ate away at what little looks this man possesed and devoured any sense of normalcy this man may have once have had. When the little girl entered the car she unnoticingly sat diagonally infront of the demon. I was possesed to call out in warning to tell this little girl to sit somewhere else or get out of harms way but I was frozen with fear. The man smiled a twisted and demented sort of smile when the girl sat in front of him and inserted her ear bud headphones into her ears. He leaned slightly forward and while looking at me he slowly closed his eyes and seem to take a deep breath through his nostrils. It seemed he was smelling the young girl's hair. I was terrified but still I could not move or act. His vicious grin gave the impression of a torured soul. He was a sick and perverted creep and he was really starting to freak me out. His delight was at an apex as he leaned closer and closer to the girl and began to take deeper and deeper breaths through his nose. He was undoubtedly getting off on the scent of this poor young girl's hair. Just then the next El stop arrived and the girl got up to vacate the El car. The demon moved swiftly behind her,exposing through his trench coat a pair of handcuffs next to a knife on his belt. and followed her every step towards the doors. Just before they were about to leave I lept up and started shouting at the girl. "Wait, Stop, Don't!" but it was too late. Just before the doors were closing the demon pushed the girl off the train and I was stuck between them and a glass window in the sliding doors. I seized the panic call button as fast as I could find it but it was too late again. By the time I called the conductor and informed him to stop the train there was no time. The doors opened and I ran towards the front of the train to talk to the conductor. He was outside now and I was shouting at him to call the police and get whoever he could down here to help this poor girl. We heard her screams in the distance of the tunnel heading towards the next stop. The conductor phoned ahead to the next station to warn of what had happened. My stomach churned in nautious convultions and I dropped to my knees to keep from falling over. I looked in front of me on the ground and I saw it. A photo of the demon appeared on the top page of a folded newspaper. I unfolded the newspaper and read the headline atop the picture. "DEFORMED RAPIST STALKS VICTIMS ON CTA." It all seemed unfold at this point. My assumptions were correct. He was in fact a demon, as his one surviving victim had described in the newspaper article. This poor 16 year old girl had been handcuffed, tortured, and then raped only to survive her attacker by being discovered in captivity by a real estate agent checking out the abandoned warehouse she was being held in. All his other victims, an estimated 17 other young girls, were not lucky enough to be found in time. They all bled to death from the wounds inflicted by their attacker post rape. He liked to take his girls to big abandoned buildings and chain them against the wall with their arms being spread apart. This crucifix-like imagery, along with the fact that the attacker inflicted wounds similar to that of a stigmata is what led the media to coin the term "jesus christ killer." What a significantly assembled group of words that is. I was shocked. I could not believe where I was. I heard the beeps of the walkie-talkies and the bemused conversations of a clueless CTA staff. I just slumped against a pillar and waited for the police to arrive. I knew they would have questions to ask me. I felt awful. If only I could have done something. The investegators were eager to hear every detail of my encounter with the jesus christ killer. When I finished recounting the events of earlier, the detectives agreed to answer a few of my questions. It turns out that the supposed killer was identified in videos provided by the CTA by the one surviving victim. His likeness in the video was traced back to arrest records of previous offenses by the presumed killer.Born Theodore Maxwell, 1961, the alleged killer was born with an incredibly severe case of cystic acne that had never been even remotely treatable. His enormously grotesque abscesses on his face had most likely been the biggest reason for his violent and detached history of behaviour in life. He had been a sociopath since early adolescence and was in and out of the care of numerous therapists. His disease led him to feel extreme bouts of depression. Perhaps this was the initial motivator of his evil ways. He has, to date, served time in jail 8 times. Usually for offenses like arson and vandalism charges. Lewd drawings and displays of perversion throughout the city. He had even been accused of blowing up a large portion of a elementary school building. (the elementary school that he once went to). He somehow avoided prosecution due to lack of substancial evidence. It began to become clear to me in my mind, that is, the tradgic story of this person's demise. He was a tortured soul that the records showed had never married and had never known his true parents. Instead he had bounced between foster care facilities, never staying anywhere for more than two years. He was all alone and was a hideous shell of a man both physically and emotioinally. Serveral of the phychologists who treated him agreeingly diagnosed him as a severe sociopath. I swallowed the horror I felt in terrible trembles. I could only think of the innocent little girl. The poor little girl who was helpless now, abducted by the most horriffic of all pyschopathic killers. It was the first night in ages that I walked home from a late class without my usual end of the day cigarrette. I was just too stiff to indulge in anything. I was paralyzed still in my walk on my way home. I was entranced by the gruesome things I had just endured. Which of course were nothing compared to what the victims would endure. I made sure to lock my doors and windows that night. I shuddered and did not sleep. I was reminded of how sick the world truly is. And still the guilt ate me alive. Why didn't I act sooner, could I have done anything to save this poor unfornate girl's life? I lamented and did not sleep. The lights were on in my room to give the false sense of safety. As I lay awake all night, too afraid to allow my dreams a chance to become nightmares. I could only see one thing in my thoughts. His demented face, with demon like eyes. I waited for the sun to rise before I laid to rest. I was never going to be the same.