The truth—the hard truth—is you are still sane enough to know that you are not sane. You enjoy killing. You enjoy it a lot. You also believe that there are many people who feel—or would feel—exactly the same as you. You are not so different from them, but they have never let themselves “go there,” to use a popular modern idiom, so they don’t know what monster may lie dormant within them. You have. It changed you. You hadn’t expected that. If you’d ever been asked to ponder what killing another human would have been like, you’d have honestly said that idea holds no appeal to you, that the
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