A little girl lays in her bed, surrounded by all of her favorite stuffed animals. Though she is nearly seven, she still likes to include her best friends when she sleeps.

Her father opens the door slowly, chills running down his spine as he enters the room.

He silently debates how he is going to kill his stepchild. He wonders what will the the best method for him to drain the life out of her tiny body.

The feeling of euphoria is familiar to the man. He is no stranger to murder. He has killed before but had never been caught.

His wife is currently buried in the neighbors backyard. She is filed as a missing person. But he knows exactly what happened to her.

He towers over the little girl on the bed and watches her chest rise and fall. He watches her twitch as she dreams of unicorns and fairies.

He grabs the knife from his pocket, deciding he likes this method over strangulation, and raises it above the little girl.

He stares at the child of profound beauty, her nightgown of high quality and expense.

The man smiles, knowing it will only be a moment before the perfectly sharpened blade of his knife will strike her skull. It will tear her flesh and stab one of the most vital organs in the body.

The viscous act would leave her no time to wake or scream. She will most likely die instantly, if he does it right.

His lips curl in to a smile again. This time at the wonderful thought of soaking her pretty little nightgown in the dark red blood.

His hands shake with excitement as he raises the dagger, his expression similar to a madman's.

He stares at his peaceful victim.

He has watched all his victims die. This will be a joy for him. He has never killed a child before.

Each murder he committed, his eyes watched every second of their deaths, savoring every last moment until they took their final breath.

He went to every funeral and spit on their graves. He has no remorse. No grief.

Taking a deep breath, his eyes narrow in on the child before him. His muscles tensing. His heart racing. He can't wait any longer.

He swings his arm down, knife in hand, and watches as it slices in to her skull. The blood pours out almost instantly from the gash as he raises the knife out of her head.

Immediately, the child's eyes open but he jams the knife back in to her head, penetrating her eye socket this time.

A faraway look formed in the child's eyes, but her stepfather doesn't stop.

He continues violently and angrily stabbing at her lifeless body, watching as the blood flows heavily from her wounds.

The sheets are drenched in her blood, along with her nightgown, which brings him satisfaction. 

Blood drips from the bed to the wood floors, pooling around his bare feet. He pays no mind to the mess, for he doesn't care. Cleaning up after is his favorite part.

He stares at the once beautiful body. She is now mangled and bloody. Her beauty is lost upon him. She is nothing but an object to him now. A trophy.

The sight would be stomach-churning and highly disturbing to most, he notes, but not to him. He takes pleasure in this view. He wishes he could kill all the time. He wants to feel this way every waking moment of his life.

He wishes he could stay with the body; just to look at it. But he can't. He has to dispose of her and set up a fake kidnapping scene in her bedroom. He has to make it look like someone other than him committed the crime.

The man lifts his step child's lifeless body and holds her in his arms before moving out of the room minutes later.

He carries her downstairs, her limp arm hanging down, swaying back and forth as he walks. He opens the basement door with one hand and descends down the flight of stairs.

He flocks the light on, leaving a bloody fingerprint as he trudges across the room and lays her on a workbench for when he used to build things with wood he chopped down in the backyard.

He opens a large trunk and sighs before lifting the girl and placing her inside atop the stuffed animals that weren't lucky enough to sleep with her at night.

Now they will be lucky enough to sleep with her forever.

He shuts the trunk and grabs a giant padlock from the bench. He locks it around the opening of the trunk.  He smiles as it clicks shut.

'No one will ever find her body.' He thinks as he shuts the light off and walks up the stairs.