Geralt of Rivia's Diary (work in progress)

Part 1: The Butcher of Blaviken

I didn't want to kill her, but did I want to kill them? I love hunts, the rush in my veins, the sickly joy as do the one thing I was made for, mutated for. Scared, was what I was, when I saw those stupid cruel men about to draw their swords. Taunting me as they revealed their glorious cruel scheme. No hesitation as I torn limp from limp, boy from family. I love my men she said, but you truly see me – weak to words as I have always been. Lambert would mock me as he always does – the white wolf defeated by a women's pretty words. Stay away from humans, the teachers said, your job will be thankless and hated. Why did I wish for something more? Why did I wish for them to understand that I love to? Maybe my love is too twisted and inhumane to be valued.

Stregobor, why do you think of yourself so highly? Why you of all people chosen to be friend and protector? You took girls with promising futures and lives and ripped them apart for the greater good. Do you feel the bone crushing guilt, the need of forgiveness? I wish to fall on my knees and beg, tell them that I was only trying to protect them. But on your feet, pup, witchers do not kneel they take the pain they deserve.

I live to serve humans, yet I murdered twenty-three. And I want nothing more than to kill another.