My strokes started slow, but the image of muscle and flesh hanging from the pigs’ mouths as they fought for a mouthful of my father was too much, and my speed increased. I gripped the gate hard to keep myself upright as yet another bloody snout lifted in the air to swallow down a gory piece of flesh with hair attached. A groan that verged on a yell escaped my lips as I came the hardest I’d ever come to date.

“Oh, that was good,” I mumbled as my heart rate returned to normal, and I stuffed my cock back into my pants. Maybe these pigs were useful after all. I smirked at the thought. Cracking open the lid on the water, I chugged it down and poured the last bit on my face as I prepared to act out the performance of a lifetime.

Oh yes, Abel would be pissed he missed this. I snickered as I sauntered toward the house.

The memory made me smile. I’d spent many a night since that day replaying my father’s death and jerked off every time. I sighed and took a sip of my latest coffee while patiently waiting. Abel kept bugging me that I needed to find a way to make cars break down in the area I patrolled, but that seemed too much like a risk that didn’t need to be taken.

There were always lots of people that broke down, and besides, part of the fun was the roulette game of not knowing who I was going to get. Someone like good old Peter from this morning would find themselves on my table, but if they seemed decent and didn’t piss me off like the old man from the other night, then I’d let them live. Didn’t mean I’d let them live if I came across them again, but it was a bit of a sorting system. It was simply not possible or logical to kill everyone whose vehicle I towed. Unlike most killers or even my brother, I didn’t really have a type. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I loved to collect unique eyes.

Headlights rounded the curve down the road, and I knew they would break down before they slowly passed my waiting spot. They were driving slowly, and the man was rocking back and forth in the driver’s seat like that might help keep the car going. He already had one point on the idiot scale, and I hadn’t spoken to him yet.

My bet was that he’d run out of fuel. The next service station was two miles away, but the car wasn’t going to make it because it was sputtering to a stop. I watched the vehicle jerk a few more times, and then he pulled over to the shoulder, the brake lights turning on.