Did I go to college for twelve years? No.

Do I currently hold a PHD? Also no.

Do I work in a hospital? Yes, actually.

None of this matters, because when the authorities found the first body and came to the conclusion that I didn't keep the typical organs and body parts in line with cannibalism, and therefore must've dissected the man for pleasure, that was all it took. As soon as the story was released to the media, that was the name I was given.

As for the East Hadena part, that's just where I typically dump the bodies. It's on the opposite side of the city from where I live, so it's the safest spot for someone who doesn't possess a vehicle that can drive for hours at a time. The old truck that isn't registered under anybody, which I use strictly for body dumping, could never handle that.

It's not like I ever wanted the authorities to find the bodies, at least, not really. I just didn't care either way, because it didn't matter. They'd never find anything, I made sure of it. From what I can gather, it drives the police and their forensics team-some of which consists of my own coworkers-crazy.

I will never let up, though. I'll never get too comfortable. The day I'm sloppy is the day I deserve to get caught.

My new neighbor moves in two days later, and I plan on doing everything I can to avoid the guy. Unfortunately, that does not last long, since the first time I see him he is standing in the hallway. He looks to be deep in a conversation with Mr. Scott, who is the only other person who lives on this floor, at the other end of the hall.

I plan to mind my business and walk to my own apartment, not even looking at them, but that is halted when Mr. Scott decides to acknowledge my existence. A rare occurrence for him, but of course it would happen in this instance.

"Hey, Camilo." Mr. Scott says, motioning me over. I look over at him, and pointedly do not make eye contact with man next to him, before walking over. "This is Decari, he just moved in across from you."

Ugh. Here goes.

When I finally look at the guy, I immediately know I'm in trouble.

For one, he's hot, which sucks right off the fucking bat, because it'll make him way harder to ignore. Also, he's muscular, and at least half a foot taller than me. Probably more, since I've always been more of the nerdy type, and have never had to exercise for any reason. Even when kidnapping my victims, I usually just give them a sedative and knock them unconscious-the element of surprise is my friend-to make it all easier.

Decari has umber skin and short dark hair, though it's a bit longer on the front. Tattoos cover both his arms, from what I can see, and he's wearing what appear to be exercise clothes, judging by how tight the tank top is. His light brown eyes are hard to read, face expressionless.

This guy is not promising so far. Hopefully he can at least mind his business, although the fact he's already talking to neighbors is also a bad sign.

"Nice to meet you," Decari is holding out his hand for me to shake, and I've never been one for physical contact. However, I don't hesitate before taking his hand and shaking it. I don't even think about it, and the contact between our hands sends a shock through my system. "You can call me Dex."

I have never gone by a nickname. There are several that could fit, but I've never liked any of them. My name is Camilo, the end.

"Uh," I reply, feeling dumb for some reason. Social skills have never come naturally to me. Honestly, being a person generally speaking has never come naturally to me. I've spent my entire life learning the intricacies, but when something happens to really fuck me up, I forget it all. Now appears to be one of those times, but it is incredibly rare that this happens. "I'm Camilo."

That was a stupid thing to say. This guy already knows my name, Mr. Scott just fucking said it. Why am I having such a difficult time making eye contact? Why is the fact that our hands are touching so distracting? Oh, this is not good. I just fucking met him. I just met him!

"Okay, great, goodbye." I rush out, realizing I'm still holding his hand and breaking the contact like he burned me. Mr. Scott is looking at me with his eyebrow raised, and I'm being so suspicious right now. Oh god, I need to escape.

So, I do. I give them a quick salute, walk to my door and unlock it in record time. Then, I slip into my apartment, and slam the door shut behind myself. I don't even have to see my reflection to know my face is warm, and what the fuck is wrong with me?

I try to remember a single time someone has made my mind blank, but nothing comes to mind. Not one instance through my twenty five years on this planet have I reacted like that to somebody. I've always been so careful, aware that I wasn't like the others and fixing myself accordingly. However, it all went away just now.

That was weird, and freaky, and just gave me even more reason to stay the hell away from that guy.

I'm not sure how long I spend, seated on the ground of my apartment, staring straight ahead. Questioning all my life decisions and just generally thinking about Dex, who I eventually decide is the bane of my existence and also the enemy. Either way, it doesn't matter, because my phone snaps me out of it before I can get too lost in paranoia.

"Hello?" I answer without checking who it is, because there are only a few people out there who call me. My coworkers, and Willow. I can't see a realistic situation where I deny a call from any of them, so I don't even bother to look.

"I have someone for you," Willow's voice comes through, sounding cheerful. She is essentially what you'd imagine if told to picture a goth, moody high school outcast-even though she's never been in school-and she has the personality to go with it. So, she rarely sounds so happy.

The only time she does, is when she's found someone worthy.

Sure, she may not like to actually participate in the killing, or the torture, or any of my twisted science experiments. However, she thrives on the chaos. Similar to me, her life has never been normal. There's never been a moment of calm, and her and I come from similar backgrounds. She doesn't know how to exist in a life that doesn't have constant excitement, and it shows.

"I'll be there in twenty," I reply to her, before hanging up. I spend the next several minutes feeding Fluffy and otherwise taking care of a couple chores, since it'll probably be a late night. Afterwards, I exit my apartment through the fire escape, and then I'm on my way to the storage facility.

Upon arrival to the basement, I find Willow at her computer, with headphones on. She perks up at my entrance and waves me over, despite the fact I'd already been on my way. When I finally reach her, I lean over her shoulder so I can see her screens better, and she doesn't say hello. She gets right down to business.

"Okay, so I hacked into this chat room where this guy was talking about selling old nudes of his ex wife. His name is Richard Valdez. I looked him up, and she died a year ago. Looks like he probably killed her, but a lot of the crime scene was compromised so nothing ever came of it." Willow notifies me.

Generally speaking, I don't need irrefutable evidence that someone is guilty of a crime that makes them deserving of death. This is because the victim, and whether or not they are worthy, doesn't matter that much to me. I just like experimenting with and dissecting the human body, technicalities don't really matter.

The reason I try to go for people who are criminals themselves, is because they generally aren't missed. So, I don't have to deal with a bunch of grieving families and partners that want revenge, or other complications that would come with killing someone with people who actually care about them.

"Do you have an address? Or a place of employment?" I ask Willow, who nods.

"143 Rivertown Road. Doesn't look like he has a government job, from what I can tell he's a drug dealer."

Well, that makes this a bit easier. A permanent place of residence and no coworkers to miss him. Looks like Willow definitely found a good one.

"Okay. I'll start following him tomorrow," I let her know, and she nods.

"I'll look for more info."

"Sounds good."

I don't stick around much longer after our conversation, only staying at the facility for about ten minutes before taking my exit. Most would think it pointless for me to even go down here to begin with, for a simple conversation, but I avoid talking about these things in detail on the phone or over text message. It's safer that way.

The walk back to my apartment is boring, and it's dark outside. I'll have to leave for work soon. I haven't slept in about a day now, and I'm basically nocturnal anyway since I work the night shift. I don't need a lot of sleep to function anyway, which comes in handy considering how active I am.

I only have time to get dressed and eat a quick, microwaveable meal before I need to head out. After a brief argument with Fluffy, which only ends because I throw something across the room again, I'm on my way.

Unfortunately, I exit my apartment at the exact same time as somebody else in the hallway. Someone I'd rather not see, who I come face to face with, which causes me to freeze in my tracks.

Judging by Dex's clothing, he appears to heading to work as well.

One look at the uniform he's in, and I start to believe in karma.

He has a HCPD jacket on, as well as a uniform that's mostly covered, and the light of the hallway reflects off the badge I can see just peeking out. I stop breathing completely as this processes within me, unable to believe my luck. Or, well, lack thereof.

No fucking way. No way, of all the people that could have moved across the hall from me, it had to be a cop.

He doesn't see me, doing something on his phone, and I watch him begin to walk down the hallway and towards the elevators. I plan on taking the stairs, specifically to avoid him, but the door to the stairs is in the elevator room. When I enter it and begin to walk towards him in order to pass, he finally notices me.

"You going down?" Dex asks, and I stop in my tracks. I turn my gaze over to him, but am only able to meet his eyes for a second before I have to look away. Why does he make me so nervous? Right, probably because I'm a serial killer and he's a cop. I seriously need to avoid this guy.

However, I also need to not be suspicious. I already acted weird enough earlier, so maybe riding in an elevator with him will help my case. "Yes."

Dex nods, turning back to the elevator. He's already pressed the down button, and the doors open a moment later. Hesitantly, I step inside right after he does, standing on the very opposite side of it and fidgeting with the straps on my bag.

"Going to work?"

"Yes," I reply way too quickly. I don't look up.

"You work in an office?" Dex asks after a couple seconds, and I take note that he probably does not like silences. So, avoid future elevator rides with him. The less we talk, the better. I'm good at hiding my secrets, but this will really be putting my up to the test. It'll be best to avoid the situation entirely.

"Hospital," I correct, though I can understand the confusion. I can basically wear whatever I want to work, and I usually choose a button down shirt. The pants vary from jeans to dress pants, but the shirt is usually the same.

I glance at Dex after I respond, and find him frowning, before seeming to just move on. I don't really want to tell him I work at a morgue, because my job-specifically the autopsies-has aided quite a bit in my extracurricular activities. I can't risk him putting two and two together.

The rest of the elevator ride is spent in silence. I don't try to break it, and neither does he, only acknowledging my reply with a simple hum. Then, we reach the main floor, and go our separate directions. Technically I am parked the same direction he's walking, so I should go out the main entrance like he is. However, I want more than anything to get the fuck away from this guy.

So, I take the long way, and hope this doesn't become a regular routine.