Raindrops are the first thing I can remember. Hitting my skin in almost torrential waves- cold and cool. I was angry, but I don't know why. I had stupidly ventured out into a storm letting my anger get the best of me and not regretting a thing...until I came to my senses three days later covered in dried blood and hiding out in the woods several states over.
I don't have many memories from before that. All I know now is anger and guilt. I'm a monster with no self-control and I hate myself for it.
For a long time, I tried my hardest to be normal- went to college, had a social life, a job. It took me six different identities- six different lives to realize that wouldn't work. I can't run away from who I am.
I'm sorry.
The first thing I remember is the sound she made when she screamed and the way the knife felt in my hands- heavy with purpose.
I loved it.
Have you ever felt someone else's blood dripping down your arms? It's warm and slightly sticky once it begins to dry. Have you ever had it splatter against your face and drip upon your tongue? Its tastes and smells like metal- copper to be exact.
It's a wonderful thing to know someone's life lies in your hands, that you can end them any moment- on just the smallest whim they could be gone forever.
I think the best thing though is when they see me with the handle of the blade sitting betwixt my fingers and they begin to cry and beg, hoping that the tears will change my mind.
They don't.
I once had a home, family, a social life, and friends. It now seems like a long forgotten dream compared to where I'm at now.
I'm living in this apartment in such bad condition one would see it as war-torn.
I have no family, to my knowledge they're all dead- it's been years.
The closest thing I have to friends anymore are the stray cat outside my building, or the guy who works at the liquor store- I see him often enough.
I leave my apartment twice a week. Once to stop up on groceries and liquor. Once to sit at the park at night- I like the stars.
The first burial was done on a cloudy night, I was worried it would rain. Wouldn't want the water to ruin my little masterpiece.
What lay beneath the dirt was for me and me alone.
It was my artwork and no one else would ever see it.
I liked it that way.
It was like there was an unspoken vow between the earth and I. It kept my secrets and I gave it little gifts in return.
I made sure she woke up on top of the grave, still coated in blood. It was much more fun that way.
