Before I begin with my story, my saga, if you will, I would like to tell you that I see nothing wrong in my actions. I enjoyed what I have done, and if the opportunity presented itself, I would take it, and take pleasure in it.

My name is Marcus Corbin Roe. I am named after my father, who is named after his father, and so on. As far as I know, this name has been used for generations for the first born males of my family. It means little to me, though. It's simply a name, something that made it easier for the police to find me. I used aliases, several in fact, but I'll never be able to get away from my birth name. It's not that it's something I wish to escape from, it's just that it made my later life harder.

I was born into a family of "old money". Inheritance and whatnot over generations. I'm not sure when the first Marcus Roe struck it rich, or how, but over the years smart investments have turned what used to be a small fortune into billions. My early life had no affect on who I became as an adult. There was no abuse, no molestation, no neglect. In fact, I must say, I had very model parents. They raised me to be a gentleman, and a respectable part of the community.

Oh, how they failed.

---Chapter One---

Now, I'm not sure when my first homicidal thought was. The thought of taking life, though, thrilled me. At first it was just animals, stray cats and dogs, kidnapped pets, the like. I would torture them, skin them alive, and bleed them out. Watching them die slowly before my eyes was the greatest thing I had ever experienced. I loved it, but I wanted more. Much more.

I remember the first time I contemplated a murder. I was 13, and it was a rather large child, and a bully to boot. Now, I am not, nor have I ever been, a pushover. This child was the exception. He was twice my size, and apparently a high-ranking belt in Karate, or Taekwondo, or some other martial art. Nevertheless, I wasn't so keen on finding out which, or if any, that he knew. My plan was simple; Invite him over, and drown him. We had a large pool in the back yard of my childhood home, so it would be easy, in theory. In practice, it was much harder. I only succeeded because I was the superior swimmer (and fighter, it turned out).

I still remember the look he had in his eyes when he knew his life was going to end. Priceless.

I had struck him once good in the back of the head with a rather hefty brick. I believe he lost consciousness for a split second, as his body went ragdoll as he fell in the water. I dove in after him, holding his head down. This was no easy feat, as he panicked, and began to flail in the water. He caught me once in the nose, enough to cause it to bleed. He had almost surfaced, but an accidental kick to the genitals on my part kept him underwater. When I felt his body go limp, I remember smiling wider than I ever had before. I left him under for a moment longer (just to make sure he was dead), before leaping out of the pool, and screaming at the top of my lungs.

I had always been a good liar, and a good actor, so the next part came easily.

As my parents rushed outside, I ran to them, stuttering in a fearful tone. "Mum, I think... I think he's dead!" I said, mustering the best fake tears I could. She took one look at the lifeless body, and nodded to my father, who ran inside, I assume to call the police, because they arrived minutes later.
"
Now, son," One of them said to me as I racked with shivers. Not from fright, but from joy, from the adrenaline rush I was on. "Son, we need you to tell us what happened."

I wiped a fake tear from my eyes, sniffing as I did, "Well... We we're going to go swimming, but I think he slipped. He hit his head on the side of the pool..." The officer nodded, scribbling notes down on a legal pad. I remember thinking at the time, 'This is just too easy.' "How did you get that bloodied nose, boy?" The officer was sharp. I wiped my nose with the towel I had been wrapped in, "I jumped in the pool to try to help him. He was splashing around, and he hit me in the nose. I tried, officer, I really tried to help him, but he just went limp, and I started getting scared, so I ran to get my mum." I forced myself to cry harder, to keep up the facade I had built.

It must have satisfied them. They called in an ambulance, which arrived promptly to remove the body that had been dragged out of the pool. I was ushered inside, and told to shower, and come down and talk if I needed it.

I remember smiling as I ascended the stairs to my room, laughing to myself when I finally shut the door behind me.