TuckerEstron's Journal: Hunting Rabbit (Part Two)

"Aren't you afraid of getting caught?" I asked.

"It's all part of the thrill," Rabbit replied.

"Well, it's not like I could get you in trouble," I said, "I'm just a crazy lady who doesn't even have custody of her own kids. Nobody would believe me."

"That is true," Rabbit typed.

Over time, I convinced Rabbit that I was no threat to him or his--as he put it--"unusual hobby." I mentioned that I watched a lot of detective shows and that I read about serial killers and was interested in them. "Do you mind being called a serial killer?" I asked him one night.

"If the shoe fits," he replied drily.

It wasn't long before Rabbit was giving me details of the murders he claimed to have committed. He preferred to strangle women with his bare hands, but he'd also helped one woman mix a cyanide drink for herself, and he had done a couple of hangings. All his "clients," he said, were suicidal, and consented to their killings, and to what came after. "The body goes so soft and erotic after asphyxiation," Rabbit said.

"Did any change their mind?" I asked, imagining that at least one prospective victim might not have been entirely willing.

Rabbit told me of one woman, whom he said he had met at a hotel. At the last minute, she decided she wanted to live. "But she had seen my face," Rabbit said. "So I waited until she was asleep, and my little black cord did her."

I asked a few very detailed questions about the death process, and Rabbit gave answers that convinced me he had either been there while someone died of strangulation, or he had read as much about the process as I had. (I'd been doing some homework in a quest to figure out if this guy was for real or not.)

Still, the question remained: Where was Rabbit, and was he just some relatively-harmless role-player pretending to be a serial killer to impress people?