The first one had been an accident. She was a hitch-hiker. I was never good with women, and when she made fun of my small penis, I strangled her right there in the back seat of my father’s El Dorado. I really hadn’t meant to do it.

Hell, I have social issues. My father left when I was too young to remember. Moving around from home to home damaged me. After struggling for a few years, my ma started hooking to make ends meet. No wonder I had no respect for women.

The second one was also ‘unintentional’. Sharon Gilly was a real fresh cutie. We’d been sitting around a campfire on the beach doing some ‘magic mushrooms’ when she got frisky.

The next thing I remember was Sharon getting angry because I couldn’t get it up. When I woke, she was lying right there beside me on the sand. Her lifeless eyes stared into mine. I barely remembered strangling her in my drug-induced haze.

Yeah, that one I blame on the drugs. Hell, everyone was doing them in the seventies. Besides, I nearly got caught as I fled the beach that morning. I’m just not the kind of man who would do well in prison.

I spent the next ten years, until about the mid-eighties, steering wide of normal girls. Still, I had urges.

I picked up numerous prostitutes. If any of them made so much as a crack, or irked me in any way, I would choke the life out of them, after the sex of course. Their faults. They shouldn't have pissed me off.

I screwed over a hundred whores that decade. If I were to be completely honest, strangling a dozen of them out of a hundred is pretty good odds for their survival. I’ve always had great restraint.

The papers dubbed me ‘Wild Bill’ because I wrote it on one of the dead girl's foreheads. Too funny.

I suppose they never caught me because I was very careful. Always used a condom and hid the bodies well. By the time they found the corpses, the evidence had deteriorated. Plus, being a truck driver gave the police a hard time putting things together across jurisdictions. Besides, I stopped. Most don’t.

I ain’t sayin I don’t miss those days. I mean, I was young, dumb, and full of . . . well, you know the saying. But men change. I had a real transformation.

They say with age comes wisdom. I found a much more lucrative pursuit that gives me great power. That’s what I really always wanted. Power.

Now, I would never rock the boat. No matter how high Miss Holly Madison’s mini-skirts get. Yummy. I could just . . . ah, but those days are long gone.

Well, it’s been a long day and everyone has left. Time to get out of this confessional. Being Father William Braydon certainly comes with its mundane moments.

Of course, being a priest has led me to consider turning myself in, once or twice. But, I’m just not the kind of man who would do well in prison.