Beneath the tools in this almost ancient lockbox, lay an oddly out of place notebook which belonged too a “Kit”. A man I can only assume was a member of the disgruntled middle class who took change into his own cold dead hands. I can’t describe in much detail the truth as links too such old crimes are barely traceable to someone as insignificant as myself. So enclosed below are the chilling recounts of his life.
“The autobiography of a Mr Kit T, Imagine the happiest moment of your life, whether it’s the birth of your first child, the day you proposed or even a new job prospect. I promise you it is nothing, in comparison to the thrill of watching the twinkle of light drain from another humans eyes as life is snatched from their tense hold. I wish I could tell you that it isn’t exhilarating. That it’s disturbing. But that would be a lie, the kind of lie that can cause a severe lapse in judgement. When defending your own life, death is justifiable. However that’s not what I’m here to discuss. I’m talking the hunt and the sweet savoury kill.
My first was very… meh, almost unremarkable unlike how I’d expected from my prior constant temptation. I didn’t get caught. Clearly. the incompetence shown by police led too more true justice via my hand. The word “justice” is incredibly flexible in the mouths of many but my version of justice, is cleansing this world of every last soul. An unachievable goal by any means. My second was perfection, slow and painful almost biblical. She was beautiful, cherry red hair and entrancing brown eyes with a pale complexion. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on her, that she could never be mine. It broke my heart that this girl I’d never spoken too would pass by and enjoy the rest of her life without me. I wanted to encapsulate her beauty forever in a moment that I could cherish internally. And so I did.
Not days later I was struck with an untameable lust and yet I was still unsure of how I’d progress with my art. A blade concealed in my waist was the obvious option and the one I chose to take. Fate was a word that I had never truly believed in, yet on my usual nightly outing an arrogant looking business man rushed past me, he was carrying himself with such pride that it enraged me with jealousy. He was dressed sharply and well groomed with an almost perfectly grown moustache, he didn’t even glance at me. He struck me as a man with great self importance like most of the upper class. Always looking down on the middle guy trying so hard too achieve that which was handed too the rich. Id say I let him go if it was the dead honest truth yet after this encounter as if written in stone. I did it again.
And again. And again. Unstoppable by any great force let alone police. Until one lonely night in which the sky was desolate and the streets eerily quiet another beautiful woman struck my eye. Similar to the freed soul from many cold nights ago. She seemed out of place like the book on a shelf that opens the passage. She was different and I hated her for it. She looked me dead in my lifeless eyes and as I glanced back i saw the same cold look I share with the man in the mirror. Maybe she too was alone, in need of a helping hand. And yet I didn’t care to find out. Despite the intriguing aura the beautiful woman let off it made no difference to me. Such a majestic creature reduced to a number on my ever increasing tally.”