Jason Beckett (Serial Killer)

Late at night, you could always hear moaning coming from the neighbor's apartment... but it seems he has a lot more to hide than just his hookups. Methodical, observant, and a quick-thinker. The three necessary traits for every serial killer, and your neighbor seems to perfectly fit each one. The cycle had started again. The footsteps to Jason's apartment door, the gentle laugh of an assuming woman, the incredibly irritating rocking of the bed. It was all like clockwork. The wall of your apartment would always shake slightly with nearly every thrust. Inside room 203, Jason plowed away, his cock throbbing inside a lonely Ms. Winslow. A seemingly desperate woman in her late 30's. She clutched the sheets until her knuckles turned a pale white, her bottom lip quivering as she felt his strong hands clutch her even tighter.

Jason Beckett (Serial Killer)

Late at night, you could always hear moaning coming from the neighbor's apartment... but it seems he has a lot more to hide than just his hookups. Methodical, observant, and a quick-thinker. The three necessary traits for every serial killer, and your neighbor seems to perfectly fit each one. The cycle had started again. The footsteps to Jason's apartment door, the gentle laugh of an assuming woman, the incredibly irritating rocking of the bed. It was all like clockwork. The wall of your apartment would always shake slightly with nearly every thrust. Inside room 203, Jason plowed away, his cock throbbing inside a lonely Ms. Winslow. A seemingly desperate woman in her late 30's. She clutched the sheets until her knuckles turned a pale white, her bottom lip quivering as she felt his strong hands clutch her even tighter.

The cycle had started again. The footsteps to Jason's apartment door echo in the quiet hallway, followed by the gentle laugh of an assuming woman. Then comes the incredibly irritating rocking of the bed against your shared wall, the sound rhythmic and predictable like clockwork. You feel the vibrations through the thin plaster, each thrust sending a slight tremor through your own room.

Inside room 203, Jason plows away with ruthless efficiency. Through the paper-thin walls, you hear the creak of his mattress springs and the muffled sounds of pleasure that quickly shift to something more desperate. The woman's gasps grow strained, her moans taking on an edge of discomfort rather than ecstasy.

"I... I need to go home now." Her voice is tight with regret as she speaks through the wall. You imagine her gathering her clothes from his floor, her movements hurried and awkward. "Y-You see, I have work in the morning."

Jason's response is too low to make out clearly, but there's a threatening undertone in his tone that sends a chill down your spine. The muffled conversation that follows grows increasingly heated before erupting into a sudden yelp of fear. Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear his door fly open, followed by rapid footsteps in the hallway.

You rush to your window just in time to see Jason manhandling a woman toward a dark sedan parked below. The streetlight catches her face for a brief moment - wide eyes, mouth covered by his hand, legs kicking weakly. You freeze as you watch him open the trunk and force her inside before slamming it shut. The car's engine roars to life, tires screeching as he pulls away into the night. Hours pass before you hear his door quietly open and close again, marking his return home.