Untitled Document

by Steven Davenport

Dear United Kingdom,

Sure, you could say that what I did was evil. The Daily Mail and The Sun both did. "The most evil man in the country" some people have said (Why, incidentally, have I been assumed male before my identity is known?). So I suppose you've already made your mind up about me. I don't suppose there's anything I can say that'll justify to you my actions. But I think there's something that's been overlooked.

This country (and by extension, you, the general public) is fucked up. Utterly, utterly fucked up. I mean, you're quite happy to condemn me and others like me as evil without listening to us. But when some kid kills another with a hammer, then you're just as quick to blame television, or video games, or music. When some guy shoots a fleeing intruder in the back, you rally around him, defending his right to murder. Whatever's selling newspapers that week I guess. Now you try telling me that that's not fucked up.

In case you hadn't figured it out yet, I am the Scissors killer. Or at least that's what The News Of The World dubbed me. I'm also William Tyler, and I suppose those two will soon become synonymous. I'll not be Billy Tyler anymore, I'll be "William Tyler, the Scissors killer". I'll be quickly pigeonholed along with Myra Hindley and Ian Huntley in the nation's collective consciousness. No doubt there'll be some disappointment in some newspapers I've mentioned already that I managed to kill myself, and deny the victim's family their right to see justice done to me. The same papers would, of course, be calling for the return of the death penalty if I were to be convicted and imprisoned. We're a fucked up country all right.

I guess it all started when I was about 16. I'm 21 now, so that would make it 5 years ago. That's 2000 for those of you who're interested. I was at school back then, and that's when I fell in love with a girl called Tammy Synch.

Tammy wasn't conventionally attractive. She was blonde, and had a quite pretty face, but was also quite chubby. She, of course, suffered relentless mocking from the packs of hyenas that roam the halls of schools, making themselves feel better about their pointless existences by making others feel worse. I knew her, at least in the sense that I was aware of her existence, for 4 years before I spoke to her. Before then I'd done what most of us would do ignored her.

I'd love to tell you that I decided to go over and chat to her on my own, but I didn't. The decision was made for me by my English teacher, who decided to split us into random pairs to discuss our thoughts on Macbeth. I did most of the talking that day, because Tammy was so shy. I think that was what drew me to her.

After that day I couldn't stop thinking about Tammy. Within a few weeks I'd become close friends with her, and we were soon going out. A number of my friends were sickeningly cruel to her when we went to the cinema with them, and they quickly ceased to be my friends. Tammy wasn't my first girlfriend, but she was the first I'd cared about. It's well worth pointing out that we'd been going out for two months before I first fucked her most girls I'd have given up on within a fortnight. It was well worth the wait though, she let me bang her for hours, in every position imaginable.

After that she went on a diet. She said she wanted to look good for me. I wasn't too bothered about her appearance, but I wasn't going to say no to a more attractive girlfriend, so I told her to go ahead. And that's were the problems started.

Once she was thin, she quickly rose the fickle school hierarchy, and became popular. She spent time out with her own friends, rather than me. She suggested places to eat, places to go. She even insisted on paying for herself on dates.

Most terrifyingly, she became dominant in the bedroom. I became the one who was tied up, and she'd be in control. It was in one of these sessions that I decided it had all become too much. She had me tied up, and had clawed my chest apart with her fingernails. She'd passed the point of crazy, and she decided that she liked to see me bleed. She took a pair of nail scissors from the desk by my bed, and she sliced my arm as we both climaxed. I screamed with a kind of blissful agony, but I knew that I had to end it with her. I was still in love, but the shy, submissive Tammy I loved no longer existed.

I'm going to take a quick break in my story now, to update you with my death in real time. It's 11:03 right now, and I'm going to drink a beer, and get the knife ( killing myself with scissors just wouldn't feel right) and aspirin ready. I'm not going to do anything until I'm finished writing though, I'm not sure how long I'm going to be.

The next two years of my life were dull. I spent the time doing my A Levels, and going out at night, finding some random slut, and fucking her senseless. I don't know most of their names, that didn't matter. I wasn't after a relationship none of them were Tammy after all, I just needed to feel the control I used to feel with her. I found girls who would just lie down and let me bang them, and then I'd get rid of them.

When I went to university those girls were harder to find. That's when I moved onto hookers. I got less and less satisfaction as it went on, and as you'd imagine it's not the kind of thing that student finances are made for. I grew depressed as time dragged on, and after I dropped out of Uni, I started working full time. I bounced between various minimum wage employers, keeping my living costs quite low, and I spent every available penny (which still wasn't much) on prostitutes.

This went on for a while, until about a year ago, when the prostitute I'd picked up a fairly sexy young blonde refused to have sex. It was clearly her first time, and she simply lay on my bed in tears. Now, I like to believe that I'm a passive person (or at least I used to), and what I'd assumed I'd do in such a situation would be to help her, and tell her it'd be ok. At the time, however, I was drunk, depressed and horny in equal measures, and so her refusal to give me what I wanted got me very angry.

I took a pair of nail scissors from my bedside table, and threatened her with them. I don't know if the scissors were just the first thing I picked up, or whether I might have wanted to use the same weapon on her that I'd had used on me by Tammy, but I think it's nicely symbolic whatever. I threated her with them, and she sat in the corner of my room, and begged me not to hurt her. And that's when I felt something I hadn't felt since I was first going out with Tammy.

I felt control. She crouched, and begged, and I held the scissors to her neck while I pleasured myself. As I climaxed I slit her throat. I felt the warm crimson liquid squirt onto my face, and I let my own emission mix with it on her face. It was a stunningly exhilarating experience, and one I'd rank as quite probably the best in my life. I knew what I'd been missing since I'd left Tammy. I missed the power. The scissors became my chosen method of killing, simply because they seemed to fit (so that's solved that mystery, which the tabloids have enjoyed). I hadn't meant to kill her that time, it just felt right. But as I had, I was lucky I'd avoided witnesses and suchlike. I spent a number of days cleaning my flat, and then dumped the body a couple of nights later.

After that I carefully planned each victim. Sarah, an 18 year old prostitute, was my first target. Claire, a 17 year old student became my first non-hooker victim. Christina, a 16 year old schoolgirl, was my next victim. These names should be familiar with you. With all of these girls I did the same thing, lured them to my flat, making sure nobody was ever around to see them go in, and then I attacked them with the scissors until they begged for mercy, then pleasured myself, killing them at my own orgasm.

Hilary Charlton was victim who the tabloids really picked up on. She was 14, and gorgeous. She was the first, and only, victim I had intercourse with. I wish to make it clear that. the sex we had was perfectly consensual, I would never rape anyone. I stabbed her in the neck with the scissors as we climaxed together. I bathed in her blood and her screams enhanced my pleasure.

I stopped taking the girls to my place for practical reasons, because it was getting hard to wash the blood out of the place, and the neighbours must have been wondering about the screaming. How you guys didn't catch me once you found the bodies it completely beyond me to be honest. It wasn't like I'd taken a great deal of care over the killings, my DNA must have been all over the girls. And inside her in Hilary's case according to the newspapers (who, of course, jumped to the assumption that I was a rapist as well as a killer.)

Soon I wasn't even bothering with the sexual side of it at all, I was simply taking girls away somewhere and stabbing them with scissors. The pleasure has gone out of my life again, and that's why I'm doing this.

In total I've killed 25 girls, with ages ranging from 12 to 28. only 20 of these have been noted in the papers. The 5 bodies you haven't found are in my flat.

To the families of the victims, and I've caused harm by doing this: I'm sorry. I was simply looking for happiness I lost when I was 16.

To Tammy, if you're out there: I still love you baby.

To The Sun, The Mail, The News of the world et al: I hope you burn in hell for making the amount of money you have out of my actions.

To the rest of you: fuck off. You're fucked up.

Yours truly,

William Tyler

The Scissors Killer.

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