14th January 2015

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"I just wanted to see how it felt to shoot Grandma."

- Edmund Kemper

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Dear diary,

I can still feel the adrenaline pumping through me. My fingers are still tingling from the rush. I couldn't help myself. I couldn't resist. I had to start. I wanted to know it felt like. Having power, control. One minute they're alive, breathing, begging for mercy.

The next - snap.

I have to write it all out while it's fresh in my mind. I have to get my fingers to move before it curls on it's own accord around the knife again. This rush also makes me feel like a literary person. Good enough to publish this. Let the world know what this feels like.

Unseeing eyes, a still heart, the heat in the body gradually replaced by the chilling cold - evidence of the bone chilling encounter of the predator and the prey. I started. Finally. I can't keep the stupid smile off my face thinking about the amazing experience I just got to imprint in my memory.

Now, since I want to publish this and let the world know, I should probably give every detail. Hidding nothing. Probably except a few names and locations.

Wouldn't want to be caught now, would we?

She will now get what she wants, exactly a month from today.

14th February 2015.

Her perfect man.

Months ago, I went on google and looked up the easiest ways to kill people. Millions of suggestions turned up. For research purposes they say.

Yeah right. Research.

I had carefully handpicked each of the styles I decided to use on each person. Putting them through their worse fears, turning their worst nightmare to the most ravishing reality. Due to this unplanned start, I had to go with the most traditional and unappealing way to start off. If you have decided to buy this published book and have spent money on it, do not be disappointed. I will definitely make it much more interesting next time.

Now, where was I? Ah yes.

I took the butcher's knife from the kitchen counter and walked over to the dilapidated house across the street. The one where Mrs. Wilson lives, you know? An old lady who can barely stand. No one will miss her if she goes, you know? Exactly why she was my perfect target. After uncountable knocks on her door, the door finally opened, revealing a thin, frail woman with sparse white hair scattered on her otherwise bald head and wrinkles carving each feature on her face.

She recognized me, I was surprised, called me inside for a cookie and coffee. I handed her the empty package I had hurriedly wrapped as a parcel as an excuse to come over. She turned her back to me and I could feel the blood starting to surge through me at the final opportunity I couldn't miss. I striked, stabbing her squarely on her back. Digging it deeper, twisting it with fury.

I'm doing this for you. Only for you.

After cleaning up my knife, I shifted a few things here and there making it seem like a robbery. I found Mrs. Wilson's stash of cash under her jam jar.

A thousand dollars. Enough.

I couldn't risk raising any suspicion if I wanted to go through with my well laid out plan. I called out to 'Mrs. Wilson' while shutting the door, ghanking her for the supposedly delicious coffee. Ha.

I still can't stop smiling as I feel like I am on the top of the world. Now, I am sure that this is just the beginning of so many joyous pleasures yet to come.

Now, I know that the devil has taken over. And I know that I want this.

Until next time,

Eagerly waiting,

Ace.

A/N

Word count: 616 words.

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