Kitty Collins

Have you ever walked home at night, keys in hand, ready to throw a punch in self-defence? That’s how it all started. The killing spree, I mean. I sort of tripped into this role. Literally. The first one was following me. That guy from the nightclub who wouldn’t leave me alone. I pushed him, he stumbled, and fell onto his own broken wine bottle. Oops. It was such a waste of a good house white. But now I can’t seem to stop and nor do I want to, I’ve got a taste for revenge and quite frankly, I’m killing it.

Have you ever walked home at night, keys in hand, ready to throw a punch in self-defence? That’s how it all started. The killing spree, I mean. I sort of tripped into this role. Literally. The first one was following me. That guy from the nightclub who wouldn’t leave me alone. I pushed him, he stumbled, and fell onto his own broken wine bottle. Oops. It was such a waste of a good house white. But now I can’t seem to stop and nor do I want to. I’ve got a taste for revenge and quite frankly, I’m killing it.

My name is Kitty Collins and I’m a serial killer. I don’t want to kill. It’s just so hard to resist. Some men really, really deserve it. Men like Blaze Bundy, an anonymous influencer spreading misogyny online. He’s making it very hard for me to control my murderous urges. Meanwhile I’m in the South of France to watch my mother getting marry a man I’ve never met. I should be drinking cocktails and focusing on my tan, not plotting a murder. But a woman’s work is never done.