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stare across the table at Jeremy, and wonder if I will make it through the date without trying to kill him.
“Please,” I add. Please. Please let me stand over your body and watch you die. I’ll add a pretty please if you promise to bleed heavily.
this is the first time I’ve left the sanctuary of apartment 6E.
I am back to normal, and my urges are as strong as they’ve ever been.
I worry over what will happen when he is that close, worry how my psychotic mind will handle the experience. Whether it will slink to the background and lie low, allowing me to enjoy the experience. Or, if it will bare its teeth and come out to play.
The need. It is stronger than my blood lust; it is overriding any thought in my head. I want this man so bad. I want him alive, and I want him to fill me with that life, that sweetness.
“Welcome to the freak show.”
I am too engrossed in the arrival of ecstasy. And when it comes, it is the most perfect form of insanity I have ever experienced.
Yes, I’ve killed. Yes, I still want to kill. But, looking up at thousands of lights that could harbor unknown galaxies and universes, could hold my missing family, I feel a bit, there, somewhere… yes… a flicker of hope.
There has to be a plan. I have to have a purpose. I am, despite all that rots in my core, a good person.
Star light. Star bright. First star I see tonight. I wish I may, wish I might. Not kill those whom my heart holds tight.
It terrified me. I worried that I was facing an adversary I might not be able to resist. Normality.
worried that I would paint over my situation and convince myself that I can handle the outside world. Lie to myself because I would want normality so badly that I would risk others’ safety to get it.
Is that what I’m doing now? Lying to myself? Telling myself that I am strong enough because I am not strong enough to resist it? Is my will to be normal greater than my thirst to kill?
should have a weapon, something to defend myself with. Defense. Sure. Another lie to myself? I’m too deep in my own shit to know.
I am an adult because I can handle myself. Buy a snack and not try to kill anybody.
We all live different lies.
He growls, feeling a surge of ownership overtake him, an animalistic urge millions of years old pushing him. He wants every bit of this woman. He wants to protect her, reassure her, hold her in his hands and make her his with his cock.
It is a dangerous seesaw of inequality, one I balance on with no clear understanding of its butterfly effects.
I look to the other side of my apartment, to my bed of sex, cameras, toys, and lingerie spread all over its surface. Refrain from any sexual activity? Bitch, please.
But when he doesn’t know what I’ve done with that need, what lives I have taken… can his love be true without that information?
I can always tell him. But I can’t take back the truth once it is spoken. And honestly? I don’t know how my heart would react if he left.
my silence is selfish. Admitting the fact does little to convince my mouth to speak. Selfishness is the least of my problems.
It is as if seeing them reassures me that I have a choice. I have freedom, I just choose to celebrate it inside my apartment.
I am loved. Me: dirty, rotten me.
“We don’t choose who we love, Deanna. You are beautiful to me. Perfect to me. Despite what you struggle with. Your struggle…” His eyes leave me for a moment, searching for words; then they come back to me, wisps of smoke leaving his mouth in the chilled night air. “Your struggle is part of what makes you beautiful. You don’t see what I see. You don’t see the good person that I know that you are.” He runs a hand up my back, tugs firmly on my hair. “Don’t argue with me. I know how I feel. I just wanted you to know. I’ve been holding it in too long. I love you.”
In that moment, in that kiss, I choose to believe anything is possible. I choose to forget all of the horrible things that “anything” can include.
At times it seems my whole life is a fight for the upper hand.
We are connected. We are more similar than Jeremy or JagPusher will ever understand. We both carry a demon inside.
She remembers. She remembers. She remembers. And suddenly, she wants nothing but to forget.
He had wanted to do it. Had wanted so badly to be strong for her. To be her hero.
I am weak. She deserves a better protector than me.
I have failed her.
Yes, I have failed her. Yes, I am leading this maniac directly to her door.
I hope she cuts him to shreds.
Maybe I should be preparing. But how do you prepare for the unknown?
Marcus was locked up because the judge thought he was dangerous. He left that prison a smarter, better predator. God bless our justice system.
I only want to know what has happened to Mike. I hate him. I’m scared for him. The seesaw between the two will drive me mad.
WHEN YOU KNOW someone is coming, the biggest enemy is time. I knew where, I knew how. The only thing I didn’t know was when.
Love is weakness. And right now, I need every bit of strength I have.
Damn. I suck as a girlfriend.
That’s the problem with having a pussy. Every man around wants to dive into it.
Life is never as precious as when it is threatened. We all need a little death in our lives to remind us to keep living.
He thinks I am unaware. He thinks I am helpless. He has no idea who he is dealing with.
feel capable. Organized. Superior. My hands shake with excitement. This will be fun.
An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. An index finger for an index finger.
This is the moment. The moment when the whispers of my insanity are quiet, my hands still, no shudder or shake in their movements. I am in control. So… now what do I do?
I should walk away. I have so little control. I smile.
I have taken, I have conquered, I have killed.
He is so confused by her.
