I can’t stand the taste of this nicotine on my tongue, it’s bitter and degrading. But it’s the only hint of heat on this raw and bleak night. It’s cold as hell, which doesn’t make sense because hell could never be cold. It’s always cold here. Fucking Michigan. God’s snow globe. We are all fucking snowmen in this winter-wonderland. Well, most of us, not me though. No, I refuse to follow the ways of these morons around me, who just go on with life as if nothing were wrong. Not giving a shit about anyone but themselves. Fuck people. Some moron, right now, is bitching about how his coffee being just a little too hot, while most of the world can’t even afford water. I’d kill them all, all the rude-ass people of this world, if I could. Well – I can,
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I just kill a certain type of people. You know, other killers, rapist, people like that, people who deserve to die. I’m saving the lives of innocent people and at the same time I’m fulfilling my addiction. When I kill, I don’t feel as hollow and lost as I usually do. I feel calm, focused, enlightened. But don’t get me wrong, I am by no means, a good person. It’s a good thing I can control these urges to kill because if I didn’t I’d kill ever person that’d cut me off on the freeway. This addiction controls who I am, killing is my drug, and all I ever do is overdose. I can’t stop. I’ll never stop. I don’t want to …show more content…
It’s Anna. “Hey you.” I say answering the phone.
“”Hey love, where are you?”
“Just finishing up some work, why?”
“Cause Clementine misses you.” I hear my daughter call for me in the background.
“Hey baby girl, I miss you too, daddy’s on his way home now.”
“Ok we’ll be here waiting,” Anna says softly. “Love you dear.”
“I love you too, sweetheart, see you soon.” I hang up the phone and put it back into my pocket.
I guess I should have mentioned that I have a family, they’re not just a cover up either, what we have, it’s real. I care for them more than I care for anyone else. Although if they knew who I really was I don’t know how they’d react. Dedicated husband and father turns out to actually be a serial kill, it’d be a great news story. That is if I ever got caught. Which won’t ever happen.
They say people like me can’t have real relationships because we are incapable of caring for others; we only care about ourselves. That’s bullshit, Anna and Clementine are the greatest things to ever happen to me. When I’m with them, I don’t have to pretend to care, I don’t have to try to fit in, because it all just comes naturally. What we have is perfect. There is only one problem.
I kill people, and I love
I just kill a certain type of people. You know, other killers, rapist, people like that, people who deserve to die. I’m saving the lives of innocent people and at the same time I’m fulfilling my addiction. When I kill, I don’t feel as hollow and lost as I usually do. I feel calm, focused, enlightened. But don’t get me wrong, I am by no means, a good person. It’s a good thing I can control these urges to kill because if I didn’t I’d kill ever person that’d cut me off on the freeway. This addiction controls who I am, killing is my drug, and all I ever do is overdose. I can’t stop. I’ll never stop. I don’t want to …show more content…
It’s Anna. “Hey you.” I say answering the phone.
“”Hey love, where are you?”
“Just finishing up some work, why?”
“Cause Clementine misses you.” I hear my daughter call for me in the background.
“Hey baby girl, I miss you too, daddy’s on his way home now.”
“Ok we’ll be here waiting,” Anna says softly. “Love you dear.”
“I love you too, sweetheart, see you soon.” I hang up the phone and put it back into my pocket.
I guess I should have mentioned that I have a family, they’re not just a cover up either, what we have, it’s real. I care for them more than I care for anyone else. Although if they knew who I really was I don’t know how they’d react. Dedicated husband and father turns out to actually be a serial kill, it’d be a great news story. That is if I ever got caught. Which won’t ever happen.
They say people like me can’t have real relationships because we are incapable of caring for others; we only care about ourselves. That’s bullshit, Anna and Clementine are the greatest things to ever happen to me. When I’m with them, I don’t have to pretend to care, I don’t have to try to fit in, because it all just comes naturally. What we have is perfect. There is only one problem.
I kill people, and I love