Chapter 5 Kansas

Summer of 1994, Stephen Curtis is out for dinner with his family. His wife Gertrude was sitting beside him laughing at his jest. Their children, Samuel and Harry, both seven years old, were playing with their nuggets, shoving each other playfully. Gertrude was glad she had finally met a man she would spend the rest of her days with, her heart danced for Stephen.

They met eight years ago during one of Gertrude's summer vacations. It was love at first fright for them as he had walked in on her changing her swimsuit. Her shrill sent him outside the shade to calm his nerves, he apologized and seemed sweet to Gertrude she ended up inviting him to a party they were holding. That night they had sex and luckily, and unlucky for her she conceived the twins they had. Stephen agreed to take care of his children, a year later they got married and moved to the suburbs to start a new life.

It was amazingly beautiful, Stephen got a job in a convenience store until they made enough money to move to Kansas. Kansas was beautiful, peaceful, neighborly. Their neighbors welcomed them on their move-in day with a basket filled with gifts. He applied for a job opportunity in Kansas College as the librarian and got the post as he had a fair share with handling literature, and because it seemed like it was the only job he qualified for.

He was not making enough money, but, thankfully Gertrude chipped in what she earned from her secretarial job at Kansas High School. The town's population was small, about four hundred people. So most of the people, in place of the birth names mastered their sobriquet. A few streets down from Stephen's house was a hang-out spot for prostitutes. Prostitution was legal, as long as both parties consented to the sex and the one 'offering' the services had to be paid. Men and women alike stood in the street waiting for their clients to pick them up.

After dinner, Stephen drove his family back home. Tucked the twins in bed and kissed them goodnight. He walked back to his room, found his wife in a suggestive piece of clothing. Her demeanor expressed what she wanted most. Him. He smiled, untied his tie, walked to his wife, and tired her hands in front of her. Gertrude smirked, she loved how dominant he would be while taking charge.

He undid his belt, allowing the pants to lower to his feet so he could step out of them. Next, came his shirt. He unbuttoned it and folded it gently placing it on the nightstand along with his folded pants. His boxers followed the pattern. His erection was proud as his eyes lingered on his wife's body. He guided her to the bed and lay her on it. Gertrude closed her eyes as her husband pleasured her.

In the most auspicious hour of the night, he woke up from the bed, careful not to wake his wife.

It was his routine, get her to sleep tired as she was a heavy sleeper so she would not hear him open the door and leave their home. He took the keys to his car and drove to Pineville, a small neighborhood in Kansas. He parked miles away from his destination and crept into the backyard of a house. His covered hands jiggled with the handle until he was able to break it. Al in the dead of night. He climbed upstairs, the floorboard creaking beneath his heavy footsteps.

He walked inside the unlocked bedroom and smiled ominously at the figure resting on the bed. He made his way to the figure and wrapped his arm around her neck. The woman jumped frightened by the figure present in her bedroom. Her eyes were wide, afraid. Her heart picked up speed as he gestured for her to be quiet.

She nodded frantically tears running down her face. He watched her squirm and whimper, the frightening smile on her face told her she was not going to make it alive. He grabbed his butcher knife from his pocket and waved it in front of her. She shook her head, sobbing, pleading for him to let her go. She was sweating profusely, her lungs cramped, as her body shook with fear.

Stephen made no sound, no attempt to talk to her. With a blow to the head, he took the knife and stabbed the unconscious woman severally on her chest. The knife dug into her, spreading her organs as he whirled the knife. Blood splattered across the room from the cut and especially, her bedpost. Once he was certain she was dead, he wiped the knife with a piece of clothing he had around his shoulder and curved his initial on her breast.

Stephen wiped the blood on the floor and his victim, his covered hands helped him get rid of his fingerprints on the lifeless victim. He cleaned the scene spotlessly, the only proof of his crime was the blood dripping from the woman. He tore open her nightgown and made his way with her, assaulting her dead body. He was careful not to leave any traces of his bodily fluids that would spot him as the criminal. He wiped the woman clean once he was done, zipped his zipper, and covered her bloody body. He then made his way out of the room, downstairs, out of the backyard door, and back to his car.

Satisfied with his work, he silently drove in the night back to his clueless wife. He immediately walked into his spare room that no one else accesses and shed off his clothes. He took a short bath to get rid of the blood smell and washed his knife clean. He discarded the clothes and set them on fire just outside of their home. He watched as nothing more than the smell remained with a satisfied grin.

He went back to his shrine preserving pictures of his victims, took a marker, checked a picture on the wall, and grinned to himself. All while everyone was sleeping, he went back to bed and enveloped his wife in a tight embrace. Gertrude snuggled in his arms unaware of what had transpired that night. Like every other night that he would drive out of Kansas.