Serial Killers-Personal Narrative

Serial killers and just crime in general has always really fascinated me. I always watched crime show when I was little and this past year after being in crime and punishment I really grown an interest in them. I’ve even thought about going into forensics.

What are underling factors that contribute to the psychological profile of men and women serial killers? This paper examines scientific and meta-analysis studies of men and women serial killers in an attempt to identify some of these factors. By investigating psychological theories involving men and women serial killer's mental stability and violence motives, the findings from this paper suggest that more research needs to be done in order to address these societal issues and possibly prevent future violence

Serial killers kill because of three patterns we see develop throughout their lives. These patterns are the development of youthful characteristics and habits, abusing events in their lives, and the final push. To be qualified as a serial killer one must murder more than three victims, one at a time, in a relatively short time period. The most common serial killers are white, heterosexual, sexually frustrated, young adult males with low self-esteem. Lester Ballard, the main character in Child of God, by Cormac McCarthy, displays these patterns as I have found it described in texts on serial killers.

Seven years old is too young to understand the destructive murderer that goes by the name of cancer. Eight years old is too young to understand that the dad that used to put my hair in pigtails and taught me how to tie my shoes is now dead because of cancer. Between doctor visits, hand sanitizer, shaved heads, hospital stays and a funeral; I learned what it really meant when my Mom said my Dad was sick.

Suzie is infuriated. How could the people on her facebook feed–people she had thought to be her friends–be so, incredibly wrong? She sits steaming at her computer. Do they not know that these ridiculous proposed regulations would infringe on her rights? And anyway, they claim to care about kids, but they do nothing to stop the murders happening right under their noses.

For example, I could say "the man on trial may not have killed the victim, but the victim was stabbed, and the man on trial did own an awful lot of knives, didn't he?" - that kind of snide inference is not literally the same as saying you believe he killed the victim, but it's clear as day what I personally think based on how I present the information.

When I was told the news that my father died I felt like I just got punched in the stomach. At first I could not believe it was real until I actually saw his body. I may not be a scientist like my father but I was extremely close to him. After a day from his death just the mention of his name hurt terribly. When I jumped dimensions and landed in London I realized then that my dad could be here and alive. The thought of my father being alive and nearby made me bubble up inside. I wanted to run to him, jump into his arms, and hug him tight. I wanted to go home and see my family in the London dimension until I searched them finding out that my family died in an accident. Reading the articles, I was heartbroken. I could not think or breath

To one point I felt as if my mother, sister and I were victims of a kidnapping. The main kidnapper was life and he did not state what he wanted, but all I knew was that he had a knife pointing at my neck, telling me, “It’s you or them.”And my father was the police officer that by sort of chance happened to pass by the abandoned warehouse and hear the whole situation, but out of his own safety, decided to walk as if nothing were happening.

I got into a discussion about that way back and it's pretty obvious that it was rape. But once again we have people in this world who have contracted and then passed on the virus that's eating up their brains cells to where they can't comprehend the obvious. First of all in my opinion Damon isn't likeable at all considering his whiny personality -most if not all the characters on TVD have this persona alibet his is to a lesser extent than some of the others. I literally couldn't spend anytime with him without instantly plotting his death just so he'll shut the fuck up. He's worse than Klaus. Yes, Klaus compelled Cami a lot but he didn't compel her to not be afraid of him and then have sex with her. He only compelled her to not be afraid of

He was a scrawny boy all alone in his parents’ house in Spanaway, Washington. His parents were on vacation in Hawaii. They had asked their son, Joey, to stay home. They told him not to open the door to anyone. Even them because they had a key. They told him there was a serial killer on the loose. He agreed. He thought it would be a perfect time to be alone and to play games. Joey also wanted to talk on Skype. Plus, his mother worked as an Amazon worker. His father was a veterinarian. They barely ever got vacation time off together. He was almost always scared and paranoid. Even though he was 13 years old. This time Joe told his parents he would be fine. They left Joey home by himself.

father did not die a ‘complete’ death and that haunts him. This pain is shown in a unique way

My father’s expression turned unreadable and at that moment, I knew I was dead. I started running and did not dare to stop until I was in my room. Tears stained my cheeks. It wasn’t fair.

It was snowing that night and I wanted to curl up on the couch and finish watching my favorite show snuggled up under loads of blankets and drinking hot chocolate. I think that’s ultimately a goal everyone has during the cold season when there is nothing to do but stay bundled up. I had the perfect daughter, her name is.. was Bethany and she was perfect almost angelic and I questioned everyday if she even was my daughter because of how amazing she was. Bethany was a spitting image of her father, the dark hair but the bluest eyes and the kindest soul. But even our beautiful daughter couldn’t keep this family together and he left us. He left me and our one year old to go with the waitress from a local dinner. She gave him everything I couldn’t he would say, and I just wanted every single thing that reminded me of him, gone.

Santiago, my boyfriend, passed away during my first semester at college. I was away at school and couldn’t make it on time to see him in the hospital one last time. My plane landed probably just as he was taking his last breath on the operating table. At that moment, I had felt as if half of me had died along with him. Life very quickly forced me to encounter difficult tasks in my life; a death of a loved one is one that not many learn to overcome. It is a reality not many truly know how to manage or if it is even manageable. Four years ago, at that very moment, I had lost hope on dreaming. I didn’t want to dream anymore because I felt like it had led to nothing the first time. I had dreamt of one day spending the rest of my life with Santi, but that dream had died along with him. At that moment I couldn’t see any dream ever coming true anymore. But just as life can throw us some curveballs, it can also teach us how to aim for them and send them flying away very high.

I was sitting at my desk, writing down my recent nightmare in my newly brought diary. My third this year. I was hoping that as I grew up and learnt more about the real world, my dreams would become nothing more than innocent little fantasies about butterfly’s and unicorns. Except ever since that first dream, 14 years ago, they had gotten worse. Not that watching your own dad die wasn’t bad, considering I think I’m the one that killed him, but they got more detailed. Less vivid and more real everything was a lot clearer, I could feel, see and smell everything around me. It was so bad sometimes I thought I’d never wake up.