I have always been a bit different you know. And since you doctor's want to learn how my brain works, you're just going to have to allow me my beginnings. Without that, there is no point, now is there. Get comfortable, although it is not a long story, it is a bit , shall we say intense.
I killed for the first time when I was four. Hardly a tear in my eye either. It was my first experience with power over life. Heady though it was, I needed to study my kill in depth to truly understand what I had done. To you it sounds like a simple childhood activity, as many children go around killing, but my difference was in the rush I received. At four I killed, studying that kill from all the angles. Oh, it was just a little torture at first, but such sweet torture. I learned so much. I know you think killing bugs and frogs might not have been such a big deal, but it set the pace for me to go on to other types of life.
At ten I graduated to intricate and complex killing. My victim not only had to suffer a bit, but had to somehow convey a plea. But as usual the ending was the same, shudder and death. How delicious. To feel that soft furry trust and then to listen to the howling, mewling, as I slowly dismembered my victims. Cats were fun, but dogs took longer as they were bigger, so the excitement lasted.
I loved being seventeen. All those knotty jumbled harmones working through me. Of course my only release was their release. Ha! It was wonderful fun fooling everyone. A good student, a popular kid, well mannered, just the type of kid a parent wanted their sweet daughter to date. I killed a lot that year.
So now I sit in your office and you look at me with dread and horror on your face. Why? Do I disgust you? Good! I want to feed on your aversion of me. Show it to me. It is a welcome high, uplifting and welcome.
You can't cure me you know? No one can. I don't think I would want to be cured. what I want is to go out there , grab my next victim, relishing the fear, the elevated heartbeat. Lick the salty fear sweat from the body, while I feel the skin cringe from contact with me. Oh my, I must watch myself here, I will lose control.
Where was I? Oh yeah, I have my victim securely in my grasp, unable to do more than follow me with apprehension, dread gleaming from their streaming eyes. Begging me, not believing its me, or that it is happening to them. Annd then well, you know, you have seen the bodies.
Oh!! You want me to put it in my words? To say it!! Is this for benefit or mine? I can assure you it will only affect you, as I could care less. Okay, okay, I will humor you.
I take my hand saw, it has to be a hand saw, by the way, and slowly begin sawing small pieces of body parts off. Careful not to get too much blood on me. Disgusting stuff. Gets in the way really, and obscures what I want to see. the victim? Ha! Really doctors, this about me, not them. I. I. I.
I keep telling you this. When will you stop caring about them. I am the important one here. I am the neighborhood baby sitter. I am the local grocery boy. I am the honor roll student.
And I am a killer. I am the one this is all about.
amawitch/2007
