Sometimes I can still hear their taunts when I close my eyes, see their fingers pointing towards my penis.  They hated me and they knew how to show it.  It mattered not that I was merely a child; I was guilty of so many crimes against them. 

I was their freak and they cared little for the idea of bodily autonomy.  They showed everybody who wanted to see, yanking my pants down for the whole world to see.   

At night I would cry myself to sleep wondering what I had ever done to those bitches.  It wasn’t my fault; my mother was a slut.  I never knew what their father saw in her anyway. 

It only grew worse as I reached adolescence and became fully aware of my deficit.  Not a day would pass without comment.  When they thought there was a girl who I might like they made sure to tell her. 

Eventually, I asked a doctor what was wrong with me.  It was what he called a micro-penis and there was nothing that could be done about it, no matter how great my psychological pain. 

When I told them, it was a serious medical condition and no reason to be sneered at, it only made things worse.  Then one day as I reached sixteen, one of them did it again while we were alone in the house.  But this time, fierce anger overcame me and I throttled her by the neck to the sitting room floor. 

For the first time, I could see fear in her eyes.  I wanted her to feel pain, to tear her apart but this was not the time nor place.  Neither of them ever bothered me again.  In fact, they kept their distance from me. 

But soon, I could see their faces in every woman.  Feelings of sexual arousal and hatred became somewhat conflated.  I wanted to punish, hurt, destroy but also to touch and gently caress. 

For a time, the thrill of the burglaries fulfilled my desires but no more.  I had to stop; it became far too risky.  Night patrols had been set up by the local community and CCTV now covered every back alley, every blade of grass.  My stab in the dark killed the man and the whole community was now on high alert. 

It was hard to resist the urge but I had to.  There was no hope of success, I had to bide my time.  Fortunately, after a few months, an opportunity to move came along, which I gratefully accepted, bringing me a new virgin territory to exploit. 

Here, nobody was warned about my existence but I could still use all my skills.  This time though, mere burglaries and invasion of peoples’ private space would no longer suffice. 

It didn’t take long to find my first target and it was during my weekly shop.  With long brown hair, glasses but somewhat pudgy and probably not yet twenty, she stood out not for her beauty but the sense of lostness I picked up from her.  She would be an easy target. 

So, I abandoned my shopping and followed her home to student accommodation apartments.   I watched from a distance, eager for my face not to be captured on any camera as she fortuitously entered one of the ground floor apartments.  Any other floor would be too risky to attack. 

It was then a matter of scoping out the area the next day and hiding my equipment close to the targeted apartment.  You’re probably wondering if I felt any remorse for what I was about to do, maybe even a tinge of regret about my actions. 

No, I never felt anything of the sort.  Only excitement and anticipation of the future joy I was about to feel.  At night, I could barely sleep with the thrill of it all as I would rush through all the required actions in my mind. 

Then the night finally arrived.  It was perfectly dark, windy and wet so there were even fewer people walking the streets late at night.  Even better she was alone, her two flatmates having left for the weekend. 

Getting in through the bathroom window was rudimentary for a person of my skills.  Then silently I went towards her bedroom and slowly opened the door.  There she was, fast asleep in front of me.  Little did she know what awaited her. 

I quickly jumped on top of her and put a blade to her throat.  She was not a fighter and froze on the spot.  She pleaded through her tears not to rape her, that she was a virgin but it mattered not to me. 

I raped her there and then.  Then I rested and did it again.  By then, she was a shadow of the woman I had first seen as if she was just a body now, without a soul.  Before leaving I rummaged through her bags, making sure I knew where her real home was.  I told her that her mother would be next if the police were called and with that, I left her sobbing and bruised on the floor. 

For weeks, I was ecstatic, the greatest high I had ever felt.  Everything had gone so perfectly.  There was no mention of my crime anywhere, leaving me with a sense of invincibility.   

Each night I relived each moment in my mind as if I worried, I might forget something.  But then once as the weeks passed just like with the burglaries, the thrill began to fade and the urge to repeat the experience grew stronger. 

Then the prowl started once again.  There were so many potential victims.  A few were followed but found to be unsuitable targets, whether it was the place they lived or who it was with. 

But inevitably I found legitimate ones.  The next victim was older, almost forty I reckon.  She fought hard but I eventually overpowered her.  She paid for that, I left her scarred.  She will never forget me. 

This time, though, the police were called despite my threats.  I noticed the odd poster here and there.  Still, they had no inkling of who I was so I was not deterred. 

So, I struck again and in quick succession.  Each time as thrilling as the last.  A cloud of terror descended over the community but they still had no idea who it was.  So much so, that I decided to go to one of the community meetings that was called by the police. 

It was held in the gym hall of a local primary school.  Chairs were set out in rows from the very front to the very back.  Being somewhat cheeky I decided to go towards the front.  The first two rows were already filled so I slotted in behind them; a large crowd was in attendance of all ages, male and female.  Fear was written over the faces of many; it felt good.  

There was a heavy police presence.  Whether that was because they knew I might appear or they were worried about the community’s anger boiling over, I wasn’t quite sure.  It didn’t take long for everyone to become seated and for the meeting to start.  Everyone was there because of me.  The lead investigator, a short policewoman with a bald head took center stage. 

A silence quickly spread over the room.  Everybody appeared to be anxious to hear what she was going to say.  I made sure to fit in and look concerned as best I could.   

In truth, she was rather a bore rambling on about measures that women could supposedly take to remain safe, asking for the community to report any suspicious activity and saying they were doing everything possible to catch the attacker.  As if I could ever be stopped.  Anywhere else and I might have laughed. 

Then she asked if there were any questions.  Hands flew up into the air.  Most were just desperate appeals to police about how they were living in fear.  The first was an elderly woman living on her own who was terrified of being attacked.  As if I’d be bothered but she was informed that they took her concerns very seriously and they would talk to her privately after the event. 

Then a few younger women spoke about how I was destroying their lives, how they were afraid to go out on their own and how hard it was to concentrate on their studies.  That this was supposed to be the best time of their lives but it had turned into a nightmare.  Usually, they then broke down in tears. 

Then a man began to speak in a pompous, confident tone.  He was in the front and I could see him clearly, he was bald, short and stout. 

“I tell you one thing, if he comes after my wife and I get my hands on that monster, there’ll be no stopping me and no calling you guys.  He’s nothing but a coward who picks on the weak,” said the ghoul to a loud round of applause.   

I was filled with rage, the like I had never felt before and wanted to rip his head off on the spot.  But this was not the time or place.  Imagine that, calling me a coward.  A few other people spoke but I now cared little.  As the meeting ended, there was only one thought on my mind. 

I kept my eyes fixed on his location as he went, always making sure to keep a few people behind.  There was always a chance that there was surveillance in place, hoping to catch me. 

Just as he was about to reach the exit, he was stopped by a group of women, presumably because they liked his little speech.  It was just the opportunity I needed, I headed straight to my vehicle, which was parked some distance away but he would likely have to pass.  Then I waited for him to come out. 

It didn’t take long for that to occur and I immediately followed behind him, hoping he did not live too far away.  But I followed him for ten minutes, then twenty and no sign of him stopping.  Then thirty minutes later in a rural location, he finally disappeared into a driveway.  He wasn’t even a local but just wanted to pretend he was brave.  He foolishly thought he was in a safe place to berate me, that I would never pursue him.  Now it was only a matter of time before I had him and his wife. 

Patience – that is the key – and the reason I will never be caught.  I put all my focus on that house and finding out everything about them.  So much time passed that the posters looking for the rapist had all blown down.  Perhaps the community had hoped it was all coming to an end when in reality it was only beginning.  His wife, who was in her early fifties and quite overweight would not have been my usual target but it was time for a special exemption. 

The planning was meticulous; every little detail was important.  Nothing was going to get in my way.  The week before the attack I sneaked into the house, not to steal but to place the tools of the trade in hidden spots until they were needed.  The only things I needed to bring would be myself and the condoms and gloves so I wouldn’t leave any DNA around. 

An hour before the attack I had a shower, making sure to scrub my skin hard till it turned red.  It was all about leaving nothing behind me.  Shortly after midnight, I snuck into the house.  As expected, they had not found any of my hidden items in the meantime.  Once I had a knife at her throat, they both complied with everything I said.  They were in no doubt that I would slit her throat if there was any resistance. 

First, the man who was tied up on a chair, insisted on telling me through tears that his name was John as if there was some part of me that should care.  With him immobilized and no longer a threat, attention could fully focus on his wife. 

Her nightdress was ripped open and the rape began.  I insisted she roared out how much she was enjoying it and that I was bigger than him.  I couldn’t but help looking back at him through the ski mask to see his humiliation. 

Then I stopped for a while to ridicule him face-to-face.   I started to laugh at him calling him a little man and a loser, but then resistance came from a most unexpected source. 

“Leave him alone, you bastard!  You’re nothing but a coward with a small dick,” she yelled through tears. 

This was not the respect I yearned for and I felt a sudden rage.  Without even a second thought I jumped on top of her once more and plunged the knife in her repeatedly and watched her life fade away.  He pleaded with me to stop but it had only been a form of encouragement. 

There was no coming back from this, it was the next level.  A level I had never expected to reach but my soul felt cleansed.  This was what I was born to do.  Now it was just a matter of clearing my tracks. 

I quickly slit his throat.  There would be no survivors.  Then the house was set alight and I disappeared into the darkness.  Now everything had changed, changed utterly.