---
I think about you often.
I often think about how soft your skin would feel on my lips. When I watch you emerge from your shower and drop your towel to get dressed, I feel the blood rushing through my veins. If I could feel your breath on mine, I would almost surely die of ecstasy.
I think of you often, even more so during nights like these, when KL is dark and dreary and the rain never seems to end. In fact, I actually have been thinking of you all the time lately. There is something within you that makes me want to cradle your body in my arms. How I wish.
I think of you even more now since reports came out in the news that a string of young women, all around your age, were found raped and murdered within shouting distance of their homes. Apparently, said the news, a killer is on the loose, targeting young women. I had gone to some of the crime scenes myself, intrigued by the reports.
I know you always seem carry yourself as tough and street-smart. But I wish I could tell you to be aware. I wish I could tell you that even the smartest people get caught out. Like the old Malay saying, "sepandai-pandai tupai melompat, akhirnya jatuh ke tanah jua".
In my mind I could imagine me telling you: "Sweetheart.. be safe. Don't talk to strangers. Always be wary of your surroundings. Keep to well lit streets, even in this housing area. Make eyes on the back of your head"
Because you are so beautiful. And your beauty seems to scream a frailty that would surely attract a twisted mind. Your beauty incites lust so deep, it is almost unholy. I admit there are times when I lose control and get carried away by fantasies of having you.
I suppose that is your gift: beauty. I just wonder if it is your curse as well. These are not good times to be beautiful in Kuala Lumpur.
I think about those murder reports that came out in the news. Five months back, the first victim was found about beside a dumpster just 200 meters from her apartment at Jalan Ampang.
The news reported that Miss Juliana Razali was a nurse at Gleneagles Hospital. She lived nearby, in an apartment. The news said her body was found by an early morning jogger, who thought the body was a drug addict. Imagine his shock then. PDRM's official statement said 'the body of young woman was found, believed to be murdered'.
There was also evidence of sexual assault. What they failed to mention to the general public was that Miss Juliana Razali was found without her lower jaw, which had been crudely cut off with a knife. The jaw was not found on the scene. Miss Juliana also had her throat slashed thrice, and her killer had stabbed her about 33 times in the stomach. The coroner had noted that her 'intestines were displaced', whatever that meant..
Sadly the news of Miss Juliana's murder was relegated into the inner pages of the newspapers. When I had read that report I almost dismissed it. Sub-consciously however, I wondered what were you doing that night the poor girl had been murdered.
But then victims number two and three followed within days. Number two, reported as Cecilia Fung, was a clerk at a bank; her half naked body had been found in an alley behind Berjaya Times Square. Her house was 3 monorail stations away from Jalan Imbi.
The circumstances of the murder were very similar to the the slaying of Miss Juliana. There was one slight difference, however: Miss Cecilia's jaw was not cut off. Rather, she had had a massive cut, almost 20 inches long, that ran up from her vulva all the way up to her ribcage. Her intestines had been severed in that long cut. But the wound that killed her was a slash to the throat, deep enough it severed her windpipe. Medical examinations also found semen samples, which matched the ones taken from Miss Juliana.
Police were now worried.
Their worries were justified when number three, a salesgirl by the name of Miss Fatimatul Abdullah, was found in a parking lot in Jelatek. Miss Fatimatul was mere yards from her old Iswara. Again, she had been killed with a savage cut to the throat. There were multiple stab wounds on her stomach, but most grotesque was the fact that her breasts had been cut off and placed on the windshield of her Iswara.
Later medical examinations revealed what police was fearing and had already concluded: the same killer.
A task-force was set up. DNA samples were taken, despite no sample to compare to. Suspects were brought in and released, however; because there were no supporting nor circumstantial evidence to support the case. Heavy pressure was put on the police by the public and politicians alike.
The media begin to intensify their reports. Through the media, police asked for any information regarding the killings, just when victim number four was found beside a car, at Bangsar, again within walking distance of her home.
Victim number four was 27 year old Miss Aleeza Adnan, a rising star in the accounting firm she worked for. When she was discovered, she was dressed in a shirt and skirt; the shirt had been crimson red, soaked from the blood that had flown from her slashed throat. But later, when she was brought to the M.E, the extent of her injuries were revealed. Miss Aleeza's chest had 19 stab wounds. One went straight to her heart. The M.E determined that a knife or sharp object had been rammed up her vagina.
Again, the same DNA was found. The public began to demand an end to the killings. Police received angry letters and phone-calls. Tabloid newspapers dubbed the killer 'The KL Slasher'. The KL Slasher was selling the tabloids. I for one thought it was a shameful deed, exploiting these murders. I for one, thought that, had it been you, I would have been angry and devastated that these fucking tabloids were running stories on the murders day in and day out, sensationalizing the killer.
Then, number five, Miss Renukha Singh, was found in a drain near Datuk Keramat LRT station; she lived in the houses nearby. A savage cut had left her head hanging by just a piece of skin. Her chest had 47 stab wounds; her genitals were torn, again with a sharp object.
But the full savagery of the murders really screamed out loud when Miss Karen Leong, a STAR College student, was found behind a bus-stand in Setapak. Her head had been cut off, and like the first victim, her lower jaw was missing, leaving pieces of ragged flesh where the mandible should have been. Her left arm was broken, possibly in a struggle, and she had been disemboweled. Her intestines had been strewn like trash beside her headless corpse. She had a 9 inch cut that ran from her genitals to the rectum. Her ribs were broken, one lung collapsed.
Evidence showed it to be the work of The KL Slasher.
But yet, the police had nothing. They knew all the murders had had the same modus operandi: all the victims were killed within walking distance to their homes, which signaled that the killer was choosing his victims. The killer probably stalked his victims, determining what was the best time and opportunity to strike. All victims had been killed with a cut to the the throat, then savagely mutilated.
All the signs and samples taken at each crime scene were cohesive and consistent, reported the news. And yet no one had been caught. No face or name has been put to the monster now haunting the city. A true monster, seemingly unstoppable, with an escalating blood-lust.
Kuala Lumpur began to be gripped in fear. Women did not dare go out at night alone. The streets became empty and desolate. The police could only answer vaguely to the concerned and worried public. Even the PM and Mayor issued statements regarding the murders. The entire city of Kuala Lumpur was now on red alert; neighbourhood watches were started, patrols were run. Parents set curfews for their daughters, and husbands and boyfriends made sure they accompanied their wives and girlfriends all the way to the front door.
A serial killer, in Kuala Lumpur. It was almost unheard of. But reality has now proven otherwise. Six women, all in their twenties, had been found so far. The killer apparently left no fingerprints. DNA from the trace samples had been taken and analyzed, but as mentioned above, there was nothing to compare it to. This killer was unknown to the people. A ghost, faceless and nameless.
I shook my head, a bit angry at myself for thinking about those unsolved killings. I should have been thinking of you instead.
My mind drifted back to you. We were neighbors; your beauty had caught my attention ever since you moved here some months ago. I even at times attempted casual talk with you.You always worked late. And you always got off at the bus stop 300 meters south of your rented house. In that 300 meter distance, you had to walk along an empty playground at night.
"I'll be fine", I heard you say one day to your friends. I shook my head. I wanted to warn you, to tell you to PLEASE BE CAREFUL but I could not bring myself to say so to you. I can only watch as you come home, and breath in relief that your beauty has remained intact so far. I hope everytime that you walk home safe.
The last murder, victim number six, was found almost two and a half months ago now. Nothing new came out in the news since then. Reports of the investigation got relegated to the back pages of the papers. Even the tabloids were beginning to lose interest in the killer they had dubbed 'The KL Slasher'. The police had not yet made any major break-through.
It is funny how people easily forget. But I don't. However, perhaps that is why you said "I'll be fine" to your friend the other day. Maybe you thought that the murders were over. Maybe they are.
It is now late night, almost midnight, as these thoughts run through my mind. Moments later, a bus stops about 30 meters away from where I was sitting. I see you get down from that distance. You wave at your friend on the bus as the vehicle drives away. Despite the hour of the day, you do not look worried at all. In fact you walk casually, almost strolling your way home. I feel perplexed and a bit amused at your expression of nonchalance. And again I feel struck by your beauty: your curly raven hair, your honey colored skin. The gentle curves of your body and the way your hips sway when you walk. You truly are gorgeous. And you seem so carefree, so oblivious to the terror that gripped our city in the past months.
You do not notice me in the darkness as you pass me by. Then I walk up to you.
"Hi", I say. You were startled, and I said sorry.
"Hi", you say. "What are you doing here in the dark?"
"Oh, I was smoking. I don't smoke in the house", I answer. I silently take in your beauty. I wished then I could run my hands through your hair, and smell them. I felt the blood pulsing through my body.
"Oh okay..", you say. "Well, you wanna walk home?"
I smile. "Sure, sure.."
We walk in silence for a moment.
"Aren't you afraid?", I ask. "These are dangerous times"
"Afraid?", you say, raising your eyebrows. "Of what?"
"You know, crooks. Snatch-thieves. The KL Slasher", I said while wiggling my fingers for dramatic effect.
You laugh. "Well yeah, but it has been quiet. Maybe he's no longer killing. Maybe he killed himself". You smile at me. I smileback. Perhaps the murders really were over... but what if they weren't? I sigh again. We were about 200 meters from our houses, still walking along the dark playground.
"Besides, you can always walk me home right? Haha..~!", you say and wink at me. I laugh a little, and slow my pace so I was a bit behind you. I put my hand in my pocket, and I take out an eight inch black steel butterfly knife.
"Right", I say softly, but my mind was elsewhere, and as I drive the blade of the knife into the soft, tender meat of your neck, and as I catch your body as you fall to the ground, feeling your curves as I did so, all I could think of was how much I was going to enjoy you, number seven.
------------
disclaimer:
the following story may be disturbing.
read at your own discretion.
the following story may be disturbing.
read at your own discretion.
I think about you often.
I often think about how soft your skin would feel on my lips. When I watch you emerge from your shower and drop your towel to get dressed, I feel the blood rushing through my veins. If I could feel your breath on mine, I would almost surely die of ecstasy.
I think of you often, even more so during nights like these, when KL is dark and dreary and the rain never seems to end. In fact, I actually have been thinking of you all the time lately. There is something within you that makes me want to cradle your body in my arms. How I wish.
I think of you even more now since reports came out in the news that a string of young women, all around your age, were found raped and murdered within shouting distance of their homes. Apparently, said the news, a killer is on the loose, targeting young women. I had gone to some of the crime scenes myself, intrigued by the reports.
I know you always seem carry yourself as tough and street-smart. But I wish I could tell you to be aware. I wish I could tell you that even the smartest people get caught out. Like the old Malay saying, "sepandai-pandai tupai melompat, akhirnya jatuh ke tanah jua".
In my mind I could imagine me telling you: "Sweetheart.. be safe. Don't talk to strangers. Always be wary of your surroundings. Keep to well lit streets, even in this housing area. Make eyes on the back of your head"
Because you are so beautiful. And your beauty seems to scream a frailty that would surely attract a twisted mind. Your beauty incites lust so deep, it is almost unholy. I admit there are times when I lose control and get carried away by fantasies of having you.
I suppose that is your gift: beauty. I just wonder if it is your curse as well. These are not good times to be beautiful in Kuala Lumpur.
I think about those murder reports that came out in the news. Five months back, the first victim was found about beside a dumpster just 200 meters from her apartment at Jalan Ampang.
The news reported that Miss Juliana Razali was a nurse at Gleneagles Hospital. She lived nearby, in an apartment. The news said her body was found by an early morning jogger, who thought the body was a drug addict. Imagine his shock then. PDRM's official statement said 'the body of young woman was found, believed to be murdered'.
There was also evidence of sexual assault. What they failed to mention to the general public was that Miss Juliana Razali was found without her lower jaw, which had been crudely cut off with a knife. The jaw was not found on the scene. Miss Juliana also had her throat slashed thrice, and her killer had stabbed her about 33 times in the stomach. The coroner had noted that her 'intestines were displaced', whatever that meant..
Sadly the news of Miss Juliana's murder was relegated into the inner pages of the newspapers. When I had read that report I almost dismissed it. Sub-consciously however, I wondered what were you doing that night the poor girl had been murdered.
But then victims number two and three followed within days. Number two, reported as Cecilia Fung, was a clerk at a bank; her half naked body had been found in an alley behind Berjaya Times Square. Her house was 3 monorail stations away from Jalan Imbi.
The circumstances of the murder were very similar to the the slaying of Miss Juliana. There was one slight difference, however: Miss Cecilia's jaw was not cut off. Rather, she had had a massive cut, almost 20 inches long, that ran up from her vulva all the way up to her ribcage. Her intestines had been severed in that long cut. But the wound that killed her was a slash to the throat, deep enough it severed her windpipe. Medical examinations also found semen samples, which matched the ones taken from Miss Juliana.
Police were now worried.
Their worries were justified when number three, a salesgirl by the name of Miss Fatimatul Abdullah, was found in a parking lot in Jelatek. Miss Fatimatul was mere yards from her old Iswara. Again, she had been killed with a savage cut to the throat. There were multiple stab wounds on her stomach, but most grotesque was the fact that her breasts had been cut off and placed on the windshield of her Iswara.
Later medical examinations revealed what police was fearing and had already concluded: the same killer.
A task-force was set up. DNA samples were taken, despite no sample to compare to. Suspects were brought in and released, however; because there were no supporting nor circumstantial evidence to support the case. Heavy pressure was put on the police by the public and politicians alike.
The media begin to intensify their reports. Through the media, police asked for any information regarding the killings, just when victim number four was found beside a car, at Bangsar, again within walking distance of her home.
Victim number four was 27 year old Miss Aleeza Adnan, a rising star in the accounting firm she worked for. When she was discovered, she was dressed in a shirt and skirt; the shirt had been crimson red, soaked from the blood that had flown from her slashed throat. But later, when she was brought to the M.E, the extent of her injuries were revealed. Miss Aleeza's chest had 19 stab wounds. One went straight to her heart. The M.E determined that a knife or sharp object had been rammed up her vagina.
Again, the same DNA was found. The public began to demand an end to the killings. Police received angry letters and phone-calls. Tabloid newspapers dubbed the killer 'The KL Slasher'. The KL Slasher was selling the tabloids. I for one thought it was a shameful deed, exploiting these murders. I for one, thought that, had it been you, I would have been angry and devastated that these fucking tabloids were running stories on the murders day in and day out, sensationalizing the killer.
Then, number five, Miss Renukha Singh, was found in a drain near Datuk Keramat LRT station; she lived in the houses nearby. A savage cut had left her head hanging by just a piece of skin. Her chest had 47 stab wounds; her genitals were torn, again with a sharp object.
But the full savagery of the murders really screamed out loud when Miss Karen Leong, a STAR College student, was found behind a bus-stand in Setapak. Her head had been cut off, and like the first victim, her lower jaw was missing, leaving pieces of ragged flesh where the mandible should have been. Her left arm was broken, possibly in a struggle, and she had been disemboweled. Her intestines had been strewn like trash beside her headless corpse. She had a 9 inch cut that ran from her genitals to the rectum. Her ribs were broken, one lung collapsed.
Evidence showed it to be the work of The KL Slasher.
But yet, the police had nothing. They knew all the murders had had the same modus operandi: all the victims were killed within walking distance to their homes, which signaled that the killer was choosing his victims. The killer probably stalked his victims, determining what was the best time and opportunity to strike. All victims had been killed with a cut to the the throat, then savagely mutilated.
All the signs and samples taken at each crime scene were cohesive and consistent, reported the news. And yet no one had been caught. No face or name has been put to the monster now haunting the city. A true monster, seemingly unstoppable, with an escalating blood-lust.
Kuala Lumpur began to be gripped in fear. Women did not dare go out at night alone. The streets became empty and desolate. The police could only answer vaguely to the concerned and worried public. Even the PM and Mayor issued statements regarding the murders. The entire city of Kuala Lumpur was now on red alert; neighbourhood watches were started, patrols were run. Parents set curfews for their daughters, and husbands and boyfriends made sure they accompanied their wives and girlfriends all the way to the front door.
A serial killer, in Kuala Lumpur. It was almost unheard of. But reality has now proven otherwise. Six women, all in their twenties, had been found so far. The killer apparently left no fingerprints. DNA from the trace samples had been taken and analyzed, but as mentioned above, there was nothing to compare it to. This killer was unknown to the people. A ghost, faceless and nameless.
I shook my head, a bit angry at myself for thinking about those unsolved killings. I should have been thinking of you instead.
My mind drifted back to you. We were neighbors; your beauty had caught my attention ever since you moved here some months ago. I even at times attempted casual talk with you.You always worked late. And you always got off at the bus stop 300 meters south of your rented house. In that 300 meter distance, you had to walk along an empty playground at night.
"I'll be fine", I heard you say one day to your friends. I shook my head. I wanted to warn you, to tell you to PLEASE BE CAREFUL but I could not bring myself to say so to you. I can only watch as you come home, and breath in relief that your beauty has remained intact so far. I hope everytime that you walk home safe.
The last murder, victim number six, was found almost two and a half months ago now. Nothing new came out in the news since then. Reports of the investigation got relegated to the back pages of the papers. Even the tabloids were beginning to lose interest in the killer they had dubbed 'The KL Slasher'. The police had not yet made any major break-through.
It is funny how people easily forget. But I don't. However, perhaps that is why you said "I'll be fine" to your friend the other day. Maybe you thought that the murders were over. Maybe they are.
It is now late night, almost midnight, as these thoughts run through my mind. Moments later, a bus stops about 30 meters away from where I was sitting. I see you get down from that distance. You wave at your friend on the bus as the vehicle drives away. Despite the hour of the day, you do not look worried at all. In fact you walk casually, almost strolling your way home. I feel perplexed and a bit amused at your expression of nonchalance. And again I feel struck by your beauty: your curly raven hair, your honey colored skin. The gentle curves of your body and the way your hips sway when you walk. You truly are gorgeous. And you seem so carefree, so oblivious to the terror that gripped our city in the past months.
You do not notice me in the darkness as you pass me by. Then I walk up to you.
"Hi", I say. You were startled, and I said sorry.
"Hi", you say. "What are you doing here in the dark?"
"Oh, I was smoking. I don't smoke in the house", I answer. I silently take in your beauty. I wished then I could run my hands through your hair, and smell them. I felt the blood pulsing through my body.
"Oh okay..", you say. "Well, you wanna walk home?"
I smile. "Sure, sure.."
We walk in silence for a moment.
"Aren't you afraid?", I ask. "These are dangerous times"
"Afraid?", you say, raising your eyebrows. "Of what?"
"You know, crooks. Snatch-thieves. The KL Slasher", I said while wiggling my fingers for dramatic effect.
You laugh. "Well yeah, but it has been quiet. Maybe he's no longer killing. Maybe he killed himself". You smile at me. I smileback. Perhaps the murders really were over... but what if they weren't? I sigh again. We were about 200 meters from our houses, still walking along the dark playground.
"Besides, you can always walk me home right? Haha..~!", you say and wink at me. I laugh a little, and slow my pace so I was a bit behind you. I put my hand in my pocket, and I take out an eight inch black steel butterfly knife.
"Right", I say softly, but my mind was elsewhere, and as I drive the blade of the knife into the soft, tender meat of your neck, and as I catch your body as you fall to the ground, feeling your curves as I did so, all I could think of was how much I was going to enjoy you, number seven.
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