The treehouse club was his refuge. It wasn’t really a treehouse, but he could see trees through the attic dormers. He figured that was close enough.
It wasn’t really a club either. He was the only member, there were no dues required, no rules to follow. The only prerequisite for inclusion, he testified later, was a contempt for life.
He hid there unnoticed, watching and waiting. The voices cajoling him to take another.
His victims, even after years of therapy, continue to believe in things that go bump in the dark.
Demolition of the now abandoned tenement begins at daybreak.
Thin spiral notebook 
I liked this, but I’m a little bothered by the tenses/perspective. I can’t tell if I’m with the victimizer in the clubhouse in the moment, or if I’m with him somewhere else looking back on it, or some combination of the two.
I think perhaps your story would be better served by staying with him, in the moment, dropping any reference to later events (being caught, trial, etc), and show him realizing that his fun is going to be interrupted because the clubhouse is about to be demolished.
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So, very creepy. I started out thiking this was a sweet kid in his secret refuge, but what do I know. Nice writing.
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ha, I have always said that if we ever end up buying a house then the attic and the basement will be the cleanest and most well lit rooms in it – I refuse to give the bumps in the night anywhere to hide 😉 hmm…at first I read it as if he were just a creeper that scared people because he was always banging around and hiding in attics, but now I’m thinking he may be slightly more nefarious.
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So, since I believe in things that go bump in the night, was I one of his victims??? Ohhhh nnnnoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!
*shivers*
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Dude come on…I have an attic, okay. Now I’m going to imagine a creeper up there tonight >__< Spooky-good.
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