A Killer in us All
(Intro)
By
Billy Khydd & Robby Richardson
Beep . . . Beep . . . . Beep . . . “yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah . . . could you just shut up for one second”. My hand rose sleepily and was sent crashing onto my alarm clock. I couldn’t believe it was it really time to get up already. I had just finished the graveyard shift at the hospital and now I had to go and teach my first class. What was I thinking signing up to teach some failures from high school taking low level courses in a community college? The sun was now setting in the sky, how long had he slept? It had to have been longer than he wanted too. Well it was sleep that I wanted, sleep that I needed. My work was never done, there was always more work to do. Well at least if I wanted to stay out of prison. I couldn’t even imagine it, what would the jury say at the trial? How fast would the jury convict? Would they even leave their seats to deliberate? I began to smile a little somehow I could always make myself laugh at least more than those women do. I gave a hard jab at the new bimbo I had laying next to me, “hey whore you awake”? She laid there silent as when I left her, “always the quite type, I liked that in my women.”
I rose from my bed and thankfully that gutter bimbo didn’t make a sound. Her eyes were frozen on me as they coldly and unblinkingly staring at me as I dressed. “Don’t worry sweetie,” I said in a sarcastic voice, “the doctor will be home soon”. She stared at me as I laughed sarcastically leaving the room. I shut the door behind her motionless body yelling “don’t wait up”! I laughed all the way down my stairs and was still chuckling as I started the car. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed that hard. I backed out of the driveway and headed off to class. That bimbo would be gone by tomorrow, I had to make sure of that. It was only a matter of time before somebody reported her missing but I guess that is what they call me the best. It’s a dreadful thing to be considered the best at something and nobody even knew. Well in this line of work you had to be the “best”. Artists were the ones that were the most famous. As far as anybody knew I was just a simple doctor not a nightmare.
However I do have to admit that there was one nightmare that became to close to real. However this nightmare was nothing more than that just a nightmare. However he soon realized that I was the closest to evil you could get be. He was nothing more than just a dreamer compared to me. However there was a time when he did come close but he was the type of guy that luck never favored. He was always so close but never could make that extra mile. In fact he was the reason that I was working the graveyard shift last night. After I had ordered shock therapy for the patient my hopes were finally becoming real. He was becoming the person that he always was but I am afraid that underneath I couldn’t see the monster. I admit I was foolish to think that he could ever escape my prison. When he did escape a nurse had been killed at his hands. His name was Robby Richardson and in the beginning I thought he was just another wannabe. A man that didn’t really understand the lifestyle or what it meant to be the definition of a nightmare. However Robby was never an “artist” but he was definitely a new wave providing a new brutal type of talent. The way he made Nurse Alexis’s face a working masterpiece reminds me a little of a “Picasso” like influence.
I remembered staring down at the shards of glass that were stuck in her unrecognizable face. She once had a beautiful face. She was a stern woman who believed that everyone could be better than what they originally were. However the problem with Robby was that I didn’t see the amount of potential he had, but still he wasn’t as creative as I. He was able to fool the nurses, the other doctors, his family, and even the board. I was the only person that discovered the horror that lie within him and the chaos that could ensue upon his release. But when the board asked me why, I couldn’t tell them because I was the exact same way only he was a bad dream, mere anarchy . . . I am a killer.
A pulled into the teacher’s parking lot and took my usual spot next to the large oak tree. I just hoped my plan was going off swimmingly. I hated improvising it required much more thinking and I hated on the spot thinking. I reached down and pulled out the syllabus at the top it read A Killer in Us All. I groaned a little just wanting to go and find another bimbo and have myself a “killer” time. I exited the vehicle grabbing my briefcase and entered the crumbling brown stone building. The hallway always smelled like vomit and I often wondered if the students really believed they were getting a “quality” education from here. I walked into the classroom filled with students every row filled and every seat was occupied. I smiled when I saw my plan into effect. “Hello class,” I said sounding polite. “I see that you all got the bottles of water from me,” they all nodded and some even gave a soft “thanks Mr . . . .” I took up a dry erase marker and began to write my name Dr. Billy Khydd. “I am your teacher for this class,” the students read my name and began to laugh a little. “I know I know what would a doctor know about . . .” I froze when I saw a familiar face in the back of the room. He was paler than I had left him as his blue eyes had become colder and dead looking replacing the once innocent look. I had to admit that my heart had skipped a beat upon seeing his face. I knew he would track me down but I didn’t expect him to find me so quickly. “Well, well, well if you all don’t believe that I am the right man to teach this class why don’t you ask Caesar himself ”?
I raised my hand and allowed Robby to stand and make his presence known. He just sat there giving me a murderous stare. The one that I knew was always a sign of trouble. “I guess he is a little shy,” the rest of the class gave a polite little giggle. But a pudgy haired boy that sat in the front row asked “what would you know about serial killers Dr. Khydd”? He turned around to the rest of the class, “I mean am I the only one that thinks this”? The other classmates nodded along as I smiled, “how many of you enjoyed my generosity”? “You mean the water,” I nodded “yeah the water”. The whole class raised their hands and I was not surprised to see that the only hand that wasn’t raised was Robby’s. “Well clearly Robby back there hasn’t. Would you mind telling us why,” but I knew he wouldn’t answer. “Ok, how many of you don’t think that I am qualified to teach this class?”
I smiled as I saw all the hands rise in the air, but Robby’s still remained the same.
“Well I am glad that you all think that way because as Robby will tell you back there looks can be deceiving.” I watched as some of them stared at the water bottles curiosity in their little faces. “You should never judge a book by its cover,” the pudgy boy was even starting to rub his forehead. “Dr. Khydd I am starting to feel,” “maybe that is because I poisoned all your waters”. “You what,” repeated many of the kids, “your . . . your . . . a freak,” yelled one of the girls. “I’m the freak,” I yelled “you’re the ones sitting here wanting to learn about serial killers. What they eat? How they think? How they can do what they do or why they do what they do? How do they become a serial killer”? “I’m the freak,” I repeated watching all the kids dropping their water bottles some clattering to the floor. “The first thing you should know is never drink anything that somebody gives you . . . right Robby”?
“I’m no freak I am the definition of a killer,” I moved forward towards the rows of desk. “Woe to those who wish to dwell in the mind of the insane for insanity . . . is my reality”. “You all wanted to know the life of an artist? The life that I live every day . . . I’ll bring fear to your front door. Insanity is a virus passed from one human host to another, so consider this a wake up call”. I smiled as I stared at all of there eyes drooping helplessly. A faint look of horror could still be seen. “I’ll show you the life that I live . . . let me show you the horrors of the human mind”. I walked closer to fatty as I grabbed his pudgy cheeks, “I am Dr. Billy Khydd, the definition of a killer and you will see what it’s like inside the mind of a killer. “You . . . you,” “fatties eyes closed as he fell asleep. The whole class had fallen asleep except for Robby who still sat staring like a cat would stare at a butterfly. “So, I didn’t think you would track me down so quickly,” he never spoke he just rose from his seat. “Now listen Robby, I didn’t mean everything I said I just feel you were too dangerous,” Robby was pale all the color from his eyes were gone. His eyes were cloudy but the dark circle of his eye could barely be seen.
“You wanted me to return to my good old self,” “I did but I pushed to far and for that I am sorry”. “Sorry,” he whispered as he began to reach under his shirt, “I thought you were just an anarchist not a monster”. “You got more than a monster”. I laughed, “You’re nothing more then a wannabe compared to . . .” I froze not really sure if I should tell him, but my thoughts had been put to rest when I heard him say, “I know what you are because you are me and great minds think alike”. I laughed, “Your mind doesn’t compare to mine. My work has shown that there is a killer in all of us. This virus lives deep within our very souls”.
Withdrawing a pistol, “yes there is but I am the best at it”. I shrugged, “You’re alright I guess”. He raised his pistol to his neighbor who was leaning back in his chair drool coming out his mouth. He raised the gun and let off a single shot. The student’s brains splatter over the floor, “I bring death wherever I go. I’ll bring death to your front door”. I shrugged “Any man can pull a trigger but it takes a real killer to face them like a man”. “A body is a body either way now it’s time for me to surpass the teacher,” he raised the pistol as I began to back away. “You’re no artist! You just slop some paint on paper and call it Picasso. I was wrong about you and your potential.” My words didn’t seem to take effect, “Art is art either way. It’s just how it is presented”! The hammer of the gun clicked back as I dove behind the desk. Shots rang through the room as I could feel the bullets shattering the thick wood. I knew that I would have to show him the true meaning of a killer.
(To Be Continued)