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Twitched

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Author's note: I'm not that good at horror, I'll come and redo this one day when I'm better. Nothing I'd like more than some constructive criticism on how to write better psychological horror, because

 

"I brush my teeth.

It's kind of an OCD thing. I have to do it. All the time. And while I brush my teeth, I look in the mirror.

I do things like that.

Everything needs to be mirrored. Everything. As a child, I would arrange my toys in patterns involving mirrored symmetry. When I had an odd number of something, I broke it and threw it away.

That's how it is in my life.

I'm typing this on a typewriter, because the mouse pad on my laptop was offset from the center, I cut it in half. 

It's funny really, I didn't care it wasn't the same on the inside anyway, but I cut it so it was how I wanted it on the outside.

People though, they won't arrange themselves how you want them, they've got all these different heights and widths. Different shapes and colours. So I change them. Not so anyone notices, but enough to keep me happy. I sneak into their dorms and slit open their skin, and carefully grind down the bone, over weeks, to get the exact measurements, using drugs to keep them from waking.

But now, that's not enough, people just never line up the same, they never do the same.

I need to fix it."

"The journal ends here I'm afraid, we haven't found any more, Miss Cuthbert."

"That's okay officer Johnson, I think I can see where things went from there."

Janet Cuthbert was a psychologist, specializing in the psychotic, and insane. She didn't let it trouble her, when she got home she could always forget, while she warmed up the jug. It all drifted away.

But at work though, that was the hard part, especially on manhunts like this.

Zachary Marmin was a boy with serious, and untreated mental illnesses. Apparently, these had gotten unbearable, and resulted in the mass murder of students at Percivall private religious school. The killer had not been tracked down, but there was no way he could have escaped, the school having security patrolling outside, with cameras. Of course, none of this entered the dorms, for sake of privacy.

Much to the undoing of many lives these past few nights.

Unfortunately, students couldn't leave, seeing as if any of them were to leave, the killer could easily slip in with them, and escape to murder all over the area. But each night, another room full of bodies would be found, with pages from the journal hidden somewhere, the bodies horribly mutilated. Guards had been stationed in rooms with the children for their protection, but they were found dead too, and so the private security guards left and police replaced them.

They died the same way though.

And the stupid school was still arguing whether putting them all in one room, girls and boys, would be a healthy safety vs decency balance.

In the room Janet Cuthbert was in, the bodies had long since been removed for autopsy. Blood had been used to decorate the wall in intricate patterns, funnily enough, nothing recurring, which seemed to contradict the writings of the killer.

That wasn't her job though, her job was to work out where he was hiding, and how get him to come quietly.

Elsewhere, at the same time; Zachary knew this wasn't right, there were three men, three. The one in the middle had to be split down the middle. The two men on either side pivoted, then stopped, facing each other. They both pulled out their guns and fired.

The man in the middle didn't even get to turn. The men on either side stuck the guns into their mouths, sobbing. 

And they fell back in unison.

Zachary stood, and walked out the side gate.

They still didn't know where Zachary was, all they knew, was that no one could resist him. No one knew that it was him.

He could be controlling you, right now, he could be controlling your mother, or father. He is there, at every random act of violence, he's there. 

He could be contr

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