February 8th
It’s cold, so very cold. I’m cold, hungry and tired. Though I dare not sleep. My dreams lately have been sickening. I dream that I’ve killed others in the most inhumane ways. I never seem to have any remorse afterwards, either. Actually it seems, the me in my dreams is filled with malicious glee whilst partaking in such acts. That me seems to glow with pleasure and other emotions I am reluctant to recognize, as he bathes in the blood of his victims. It frightens me to think that could possibly be me. They say dreams are sometimes an outlet for things suppressed in one’s subconscious mind. But, I couldn’t possibly commit such acts of treason against humanity…could I?
For the past 30 years I’ve walked this earth, I’ve been one to follow the rules. Not necessarily because I believe in them, but because I’m invisible when I’m a good little boy. From afar , my family seems like a distinguished one. A father with a PH-D in psychology and teaching at a university; a mother who is a partner in a well-known law firm; their son who received his Bachelor’s and Master’s at NYU and Harvard respectively. We seem like the perfect family, don’t we? How ironic, then that we aren’t. In truth, we’re a family barely surviving in our cold home. Without the love of the others, each of us seeks escape in other ways. My father in his teaching, my mother in law and I in the darkness.
However, growing up I’ve never felt I belonged. I had different views from my parents. I never quite fit in among my high school and college mates and never really tried. I’ve lived my life as a loner, occupying my thoughts with observing those around me. People don’t seem to realize how predictable their meaningless lives are. How if you watch one person for a week, you know them better than they know themselves. You discover their dreams, hopes and desires. You realize their strengths and weaknesses. What they hold dear and what they despise the most.
At this point in my life, I don’t have the will to do anything. I’ve never had anything I was passionate about. I live in a rundown one bedroom apartment in a seedy neighborhood. Even my parents do not know where to find me now. I spend most of my days sleeping in the dark. I eat and drink only when my human body betrays me. My life has no purpose.
February 10th
I managed two days without sleep, but my body and mind betrayed me this afternoon. As I fought the cloud going over my head, I succumbed to a frightful sleep. It was dark; all of my dreams take place in darkness. It seems I was in the woods behind my parent’s home very late at night. The moon was high in the sky and my only source of light. I had no recollection of how or why I came to be there in the first place. I was walking around aimlessly for what seemed to be a long time. I should’ve been tired, but I wasn’t. It seemed as if some strong, unknown emotion sustained me. All of a sudden, I was drawn to a tree in the middle of a clearing. There was nothing special about the tree at first glance. It was a normal oak, though it seemed to be very old. As I was drawn closer to the tree, I noticed something strange. There was a trail of some sort of liquid on the trunk of the tree…it appeared to be blood. I tried to stop myself from going closer, knowing that there was something horribly wrong. However, there were forces stronger than myself at work. As I edged closer to the tree, I noticed something nailed to the tree. On closer inspection, I realized it was a nose… a human nose. I backed away from the tree with a scream trapped in my throat. I was afraid, deadly afraid. I looked around me, sensing something. All around me was the most horrifying sight. Nailed to nearly 50 trees surrounding the clearing were body parts. An eye here, a toe or ear there. There were even inner organs nailed to some trees. A body was entirely taken apart. The trapped scream gurgled out of my constricted throat. I screamed as I realized that I’d done this. I’m not sure how I knew because I didn’t actually dream of committing the act. However, in my dream state, the fact that this deed belonged to none other than me was cruelly obvious.
I’ve always been very interested in Biology. I was always awed with the bodies of humans and animals alike. How organs, flesh and bones could come together to make a living, breathing organism was astonishing. As a child, I used to catch insects and small animals to use in my various experiments to expand my knowledge. I would take my unfortunate victims and meticulously dismantle them, exploring beneath the exterior of skin and fur. I would attempt to identify the minuscule organs happily in my own lonely world. For some reason, the heart of each of my specimen intrigued me. Did animals also feel emotions such as love, anger and sorrow? Or, were humans the only ill-fated beings?
February 14th
I’ve been drinking heavily, so that I’ll be too far gone to even dream. This method usually works, but last night’s dream was powerful enough to push through my drunken haze. The dream I’m about to recount wasn’t as frightening as the one in the forest, but it was enough to cause me to wake in a cold sweat.
It was late at night and I was standing near the edge of a large lake. All around me was the dark shadows of a million trees. I couldn’t see past the first circle of trees in any direction. There was an eerie silence and a slight chill in the air. There were clearly animals in this peculiar forest, but I could neither hear nor see them, only sense their presence.
For some reason, I was drawn to the lake. Somehow I knew that there was something waiting for me there. When I got to the edge of the lake, I leaned over, careful not to fall into the chilling, dark water. What I saw shocked me, but I could not move away. There, floating near the surface looking straight back at me, was the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen. With porcelain pale skin, luscious green eyes with specks of gold, fiery red hair and a dazzling smile, she captivated me. Even as she reached out of the water towards me I did not flinch or move away. It was almost as if I had been put into a trance. As she continued to reach towards me, smiling innocently, I knew there was something wrong. How could she reach an arm to me without standing up in the water? No human arm could be that long. As I gazed at her intently, I saw what was wrong. This exquisite beauty was nothing more than a head floating in the water, her arm a separate entity. I looked past her head to see a more daunting sight. Floating behind her was the rest of her body. I finally identified the nagging feeling I had that there was something wrong with the water in the lake…it was a lake of this woman’s blood. Even that was not the most frightening aspect of this dream. The reason why I woke petrified, sweating and unable to breathe was because I knew the woman in my dream.
I’ve never been in love, even though I yearn to experience the emotion. I’m not even sure what love is. I’ve only read of it in books and watched of it in movies. My own parents’ relationship was more a beneficial companionship than a love affair. I doubt they were ever in love, or loved me. Is the reason I crave love due to the fact that I was deprived of it? Could it be that I envy those who can attain what I never did? I’m becoming more miserable by the minute. Is it because today is Valentine’s Day and I’m sitting alone in an unsightly apartment, wishing I wasn’t alone. I don’t want this. I don’t want to be lonely forever. Where can I find my special someone?
May 3rd
It’s been months, since I’ve written last. That’s because I’ve been very busy with the preparations of my latest pet project. The woman in my dream…I need to make her fall in love with me. She and her newly wed husband moved in across the street months ago, when I’d had that dream. The dream must mean something. She must be my special someone, and therefore I must have her. I’ve been watching her closely for the last few months. I know her daily schedule to the second. She wakes up at 6 every weekday morning and spends five minutes stretching in bed, the sun gleaming onto her beautiful naked body. She takes a 20 minute shower and takes 15 minutes to dress, always in the same order. Then she wakes her husband at 6:40 with a loving kiss that makes me seethe in anger. She makes breakfast, eats with her husband and leaves at 7:15 for a 45 minute drive to Howard High where she teaches English to Juniors. She gets back home at 4:00, undresses and unwinds to classical music for an hour. She cooks dinner and grades papers for two hours. At 7:00, the husband comes home. And they kiss again, making my heart race in fury and my eyes green with envy. At ten, they go to bed and usually I don’t stay to watch what they do, I may not be able to control my rage that he may have her, while I can not.
I’ve also discovered a lot of little facts about my little red head. Her name is Lynette. Her favorite color is green and she often wears shades that match her eyes. Ironically, she hates green vegetables and also dark chocolate. She loves strawberries. She’s 26-years-old. She has two younger sisters all with the same beautiful red hair. She’s very ticklish. She bites her lower lip whenever she’s concentrating on something, whether it’s grading paper or trying a new recipe. She also bites her nails and always uses the same glittery green nail polish. She clenches her fist whenever she’s angry and trying to calm down. She keeps a green velvet journal that she writes in every night.
Despite the fact that I know her more than she knows herself, I can not attain the courage needed to go talk to her. How do you tell a married woman that she is literally the woman of your dreams? You can’t! That’s where my plan comes into play. If I get rid of the husband, she’ll no longer be unattainable and out of reach. I can use his death to talk to her, use it as a means to make my presence known. I still need a few days to prepare before completing the task. I’ll make it look like a natural death. I don’t believe I’ve ever mentioned that I majored in pre-med at NYU. I can easily make a person look as if he/she’s had a heart attack.
May 7th
The deed is done. It seems as if the Gods were on my side. Last night, Lynette went to an outing with friends and I’d known she wouldn’t return home until mid-morning. I managed to get my hands on a lethal dose of potassium chloride from a nearby hospital. I snuck in during the early morning. I stood over the man who stood in the way of my happiness. In my own mind, I was bigger and stronger than he. I woke him up. I’d wanted to see his eyes, filled with fear, confusion and panic as he died. He screamed immediately as he became fully awake and realized I wasn’t his wife. He fought back, and it make killing him even more enjoyable. I’ve never been happier in my life than the moment I lifted the poison filled syringe and injected the potassium chloride into his heart. His puny heart didn’t stand a chance. His eyes widened and he clenched his chest as his heart gave out and betrayed him. I stood there watching the light dim from his eyes. All of a sudden, the whole thing struck me as being very funny. I began to laugh. I snuck back out of the house laughing, leaving no trace of myself behind. I walked back into my shitty apartment still laughing. I was the happiest man in the entire universe at the moment and I was only going to get happier.
I sat by the window and settled in to enjoy the show. Lynette came home and I watched her walk in. Fifteen minutes later, she ran out of the house hysterically screaming for help. I chuckled gleefully. Everything was going according to plan.
May 15th
It’s been about a week since she’s become a widow, and Lynette wears sorrow and grief so beautifully. Today, I went over to offer my condolences, looking my very best. It took everything in me to remain solemn and keep my smile carefully hidden. I told her if she ever needed anything at all, that I only lived across the street. She smiled and thanked me. I returned home to continue planning. Now that the husband was no longer in the picture, how do I make her fall for me? Do I use the nice, reliable guy routine, or should I use force?
June 20th
I am aggravated, exasperated and exhausted. I’ve spent the last month following my nice guy routine. I say good morning every day. I help her fix things around the house. I even cooked her soup when she was down with the flu. Everyday I make my presence known and everyday she’s merely polite. How long must a widow continue to mourn? Did she care for him that much? Does that mean I have no chance of attaining her love?
I had another dream last night. It’s been a while since I’ve dreamed. My mind’s been occupied with other things. This dream may be the one that breaks my spirit completely. This dream was my worst nightmare realized. The sun was just setting, filling the sky with streaks of orange, pink and gold. I washed carefully and wore my Sunday best. All of a sudden, Lynette and I were at a nice restaurant, in a dark secluded corner. She sat across from me, looking as stunning than ever. I told her that she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I know that she’s lost her husband, but if she could just give me a chance, I could make her the happiest woman in the world. Suddenly, her features changed. Her eyes glowed red angrily and her mouth tightened into a scowl. Her voice took on a deep, taunting tone as she spoke. ‘ Did you think I could ever love you? Look at you. You are nothing. You live in a dingy one bedroom apartment. You don’t have a job. You’re not even that good looking. There is nothing you could do that’ll make me love you. I’ll NEVER love you.’ I sat there shocked unable to move, a tear rolling down my cheek. I reached across the table toward her and she disappeared before my eyes. I knew if I didn’t do something soon, I would lose her completely.
June 30th
It took me ten days to gain the courage to do what I’ve done. This morning, before the sun rose, I went to Lynette’s house and snuck into her bedroom. I’d already had an anesthetic injection ready that I’d thieved from the local hospital. I rolled up the sleeves of her pale green nightgown slowly trying not to wake her. She’d woke as the needle pierced her soft white skin, her eyes widening in panic, but it’d been too late. I’d listened and watched as her breathing slowed drastically. I’d known she was going to be out for a long time, giving me more than enough time to make preparations.
After carrying her to my bedroom, I began to prepare. In 30 minutes, my bedroom was transformed. Candles set up all over the room cast soft shadows all over the walls. Incense filled the room with exotic scents that helped calm any soul. And in the center of my bed with lush moss green covers accentuated with scattered rose petal, laid Lynette stripped of her green nightgown, looking far more beautiful than should be legal. I watched as with a soft moan, she began to come to. I stood in the shadows and watched as her eyes refocused and looked about her surroundings. She whimpered as she failed to recognize anything around her. ‘Where am I?’ she whispered pitifully sending electric shocks through my chest. I’d wanted to positively ravish her, but I must wait until she’s fallen for me. With that thought in mind, I’d stepped out of the shadows and greeted her, intending to carry out my plans to make her love me.
August 7th
NO! NO! NONONONONO!!! I couldn’t have! I wouldn’t have! But she is! What have I done? How can I reverse my actions? Why? All she had to do was love me. Was that really so much to ask? No matter what I did this past week, she continued to scream, cry and yell. Nothing I did could stop her. It broke my heart to hear her carry on this way. In the end, I’d just wanted to shut her up. Her constant wailing was giving me a headache. So, I tied her up and gagged her. However, seeing her like that elicited a strange response from me that I couldn’t explain. She looked so beautiful, tied up and helpless, looking up at me with tear filled eyes. How can God fill one human being with so much beauty and sensuality? I wanted to see more of her. Could she be as beautiful inside as out? I’d wanted to know. I’d needed to know.
I’d left the room, seeking my surgical tools, giddy about what I was about to do. They say childhood habits die hard. After sterilizing all of my tools I returned to the bedroom and set everything down on the bed. I used alcohol swabs on her chest to sanitize the area. Then, I injected her with a local anesthetic- Procaine, to ensure that she wouldn’t pass out from the pain. I’d wanted to see her every face expression. I grabbed the scalpel and swiped it across my finger to test its sharpness. I grinned as I felt the sharp bite of it cutting into my skin. I let my blood drip onto Lynette’s skin. Her eyes widened in horror as her gaze followed the first drop as it hit her chest. I raised the scalpel and she screamed, though the sound was muffled by the gag. I proceeded to carefully slice her open in a straight line in between her breasts, careful not to damage any inner organs. Though she couldn’t feel any pain, Lynette continued to scream in horror. I paused and watched her lovely face as it twisted up in terror. I laughed and she screeched even louder, though the gag continued to stifle most of the sound. I continued to work. Soon, her body laid completely open before me. I leaned back and studied my handiwork. After long and careful scrutiny, I concluded that Lynette was indeed as beautiful inside as out. I reached out for needle and thread, smiling at her screams. She really did have powerful lungs. And each time, she screamed I could see the effort her organs made to create the melodic sounds. Just as I finished threading the needle, Lynette stopped. She stopped screaming, stopped moving…stopped breathing. I needle slipped from my hands as I watched her heart stop and the light from her vivid green eyes dim. ‘No, no, no!’ I screamed as I tried to save to no avail. She was gone!
After hours of just sitting and watching her body, I’d stood up and got another needle. I sewed up Lynette’s body and put on her clothes. I cleaned up all of my tools and put them neatly away. I showered, brushed my hair and got ready for bed. Now, I slip in beside Lynette with one of my largest scalpels in hand. I draw her already stiff body to me and kiss her cold lips. “I love you,” I whisper as I bury the scalpel deep within my chest. I gasp as unbearable pain shoots through me and hold Lynette closer. “I’m sorry,” I murmur as the scalpel slips from my fingers. “I’d just wanted her to love me,” I say as my vision blurs. “I’ll be looking up at you in heaven from my eternal place in hell,” is my last thought. And I die, having never been loved…
It is well known among law enforcement personnel that murderers can be categorized on a scale of twenty-five levels of evil, from the naive opportunists starting out at Level 1 to the organized, premeditated torture-murderers who inhabit Level 25.
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