… I tried to kill myself. I couldn’t. I loaded my revolver with bullets, put the barrel in my mouth and pulled the trigger, but it jammed. I pulled the trigger around 20-30 more times, but it failed every time.
click click click click
I can’t get it to fire. I pointed it at the wall and pulled the trigger again. It fired immediately and left a bullet hole in my wall. Back to my head, pull the trigger, it fails.
Of course. She won’t let me do it. I am not done yet. I made a deal and can’t back out now. Not until I killed everyone she wants me to.
The last name, was that of my old high school gym teacher. Abraham Jennings. Fuck man, I liked the guy. He always believed in me, always encouraged me to be my best self. Pushed me towards greatness. He was like a father figure to me. I can’t believe he did those… awful things. I just can’t.
Let me start from the beginning, a few days ago, I won’t bore you with much of my boring, miserable life.
I am a construction worker. Minimum wage shit job, but it pays the bills. I was a troubled teen in my youth, pretty bad in school. I was on a down spiral of self destruction. Drugs, Alcohol, that kind of shit. My old gym teacher pulled me out of it. Smacked me one day across the face when he cough me with a needle, heroin, and gave me a long talk. It would have been the first time I took heroin, but thanks to him, I did not. Before that I tried different drugs and worked my way up to the worst one. It starts with cigarettes, then weed, some pills, cocaine. At some point all those just don’t do it anymore and you get to something harder. Heroin. Mr. Jennings smacked some sense into me, told me that I still had a future, even without a good degree. That I could find a nice wife, have kids, be a good father. Be the father I never had. That day, I broke down and sobbed like a bitch in his arms. Now, I had to kill the guy. Fuck.
I grew up in an orphanage. Dad was a drunk piece of shit. Mom had cancer. When I was around 8, he beat us. He beat his cancer ridden wife and threw her and his 8 year old son out on the street. A total piece of shit. I have never forgiven him. Her cancer got to her a few months after and I was placed in an orphanage. All my life, I have been carrying an incredibly strong hatred towards that fucking guy.
Anyway, fuck him. Few days ago, I fainted at work. My boss called me an ambulance and I woke up in a hospital. By the time I had woken up, they had already done all the tests and stuff to see what was wrong with me.
Can you guess was it was? Of course it was cancer. A brain tumor. Just like my mother. Must be genetics or some shit. Some luck, huh? They gave me about an year at best and some options for chemo, but fuck that. My mom had chemo and all that shit and it made her last moments miserable. In the end, it did nothing anyway. I rejected it and bought myself a bottle of jack instead. Good old jack. I drank, I puked, I shouted and cried. This was my end. Nothing I can do anymore. Dead man walking. I had a dream to have a family. A wife, a boy and girl. Be the father I never had. Gone, down the drain.
I fell on my knees and I prayed to god. He did not reply.
If god doesn’t want to help me, then maybe satan will? I tried. To my surprise, I got a reply.
A dark void appeared on my wall and a female voice began to speak to me. Mind you, I was fucking drunk as fuck when that happened. It looked like, black and purple colors shifting around. I asked who or what it was, and it replied, that I already know the answer and to stop wasting its time.
I asked for it to heal me and give me a second chance at life. It, or better said, she replied, that it will come with a great price.
“Anything! I will do anything, please!” I shouted.
“Anything? Are you sure about that?” she asked.
“YES! YES! Please!” I begged.
“So be it.” she said and the void disappeared.
After that, I fell unconscious. I had a dream, about my dad. A very vivid dream. I saw, again, how he beat me and my mother. When I woke up, there was note with my hand writing on it next to me.
You are filled with anger and guilt.
To be able to move forward, get rid of this filth.
He chose his path and now he must pay.
Your father you must kill. You’ll be wise to obey.
Well, not the best poem I have read, but it got the job done. I knew what I had to do. I had to kill that rat bastard son of a bitch. That day I woke up, I felt good. I had not felt this good in a long time. Was the tumor gone? Was that all just my imagination and my handwriting while I was drunk? Did I actually really make a deal with satan?
Only one way to find out. I went to the doctor and had my brained scanned again. No tumor. They were even more surprised than I was. Never have they seen something like that before. In the end, they said that the previous scan must have been an error or faulty equipment or something.
Well, I knew that my deal had worked. Satan cured my cancer and wanted me to kill my dad. I am not a killer, however. While having intense anger towards him, I could not just go and kill the guy. But, pissing off satan was not an option.
I took a ball point hammer and hid it in my jacket. Then I went to see him. I had not talked to him in about 7 years or so. Last time I did, he pissed me off and I almost lost it. It was about some documents because he had dropped me from his will and was giving his apartment to his new girlfriend. I didn’t expect to get it either way.
I ran the door and he opened.
“Hey, what do you want here?” he said. He seemed to be drunk.
“Talk.” I replied.
“You want money? I ain’t giving you no money, you can fuck right off!” he said.
“No. I am here to talk about, mom.” I said. Just looking at his fucking face made my blood boil. I had to keep my composure. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go through with it.
“I don’t give a fuck about your whore mother. My relationship with her and her whore son ended, when I threw you out the door. Now fuck off and never come back!” he shouted.
At that point, I lost it. I took the hammer out of my pocket and slammed it with all my strength into his skull. I could hear a loud crack. Blood started shooting out of the wound and was covering the walls, door and the floor. He collapsed on the floor, staring at me with eyes wide open. He was surprised. He did not expect that. After that, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he began to have a seizure, grasping for air, coughing up blood.
I watched and a part of me enjoyed it. After his body stopped moving, however, reality hit me. I realized what I had done. I killed my father. I panicked and ran away. The bloody hammer was in my jacked again. When I was home, my heart was racing. I had a full blown panic attack.
“What have I done? Oh god! What have I done!” I shouted over and over again.
After many hours of sobbing, shaking and crying, I mustered up the strength, to go and buy another bottle of jack. I drank myself half to death and fell asleep.
The next dream was about my neighbor. Henry Takai.
I don’t really know the guy. He seemed friendly. I saw him beat two elderly people, who I later found out to be his mother and father. He had them locked up in a room and would let them starve for days. No food, no water. They apparently had decided to leave the house to his sister, which was living in a different state. That would have meant, that henry would end up homeless. He tortured them and forced them to re-write their will. At the end, I saw him switching out their heart medication. His parents died, he had killed them. His sister tried to get the authorities involved, but nothing came of it. Two old people dying from heart problems. It happens all the time. Murder was ruled out and nothing came of it. That piece of shit killed his parents and got away with it.
I woke up to another poem next to me, again, my handwriting.
The father is dead, the first deed is done.
A parent can be cruel, but so can a son.
Kill henry takai, he is your next.
Obey, if, you know what is best.
“Another one of those, huh? Guess it’s not enough that I killed my own father with a ball point hammer?” I said.
“Was I going insane? Was it all just my sick mind making this stuff up? Did henry really kill his parents? I knew for sure, that my father was a piece of shit, but my neighbor? Can I really kill my neighbor?”
I wondered. Maybe I was going insane, but, what about the tumor? A tumor does not disappear, just like that. Or was it really just equipment malfunction at the hospital? No, it can’t be! Was I even at the hospital? Did I even have a tumor? Did I make all this stuff up? An excuse to kill?
A strong headache overcame me and I collapsed. I coughed up blood. I got the message.
“Do what I want you to do, or your cancer is back.”
I have no choice. I had to kill the guy. This time, however, Ill use a gun. Using a hammer is just, cruel and messy. A gun, quick and simple. Luckily, I knew a guy who knows a guy, who was fresh out of prison. The kind of guy you could buy an untraceable gun from. I called my colleague frank and he told me, that he will call the guy and give me a call back. He did, and I was told to get $450 ready in a bag and go to the park nearby. The gun will be in a garbage can. Take it out, leave the money bag in. Also, frank make sure to tell me multiple times, that I should not try anything funny with this guy, or else, you know.
I went to the park and the gun was there, where frank said it would be. I left the bag of money in its place. No funny business.
There were also 20 rounds of ammo for it in the bag. A revolver, a rather small one, but it will get the job done.
I thought about it for a long time. Decided to first buy some booze and drink some courage into myself. The booze helped. I went to Takai and rang the door bell. He opened the door and looked at me confused.
Without saying anything, I pulled the revolver out of my jacket and shot him right in the forehead. He collapsed immediately. A pool of blood was forming under his head. I went home, shaking. I had another panic attack.
Someone must have heard the gunshot, because the police were called. I watched them from my window, expecting them to ring my door and handcuff me. They didn’t. They put Takai in a bodybag and drove him away.
I was in the clear, at least for tonight. I drank the rest of my jack and fell asleep.
This time I dreamed of my highschool gym teacher, Abraham Jennings. Not a very long dream this time. At first I saw him masturbating at home, looking at pictures of little girls. Disgusting. Then he was in van, telling a little blonde girl, maybe around 5, that he is a friend of her father and that her father told him to pick her up. The little girl got in. That’s where my dream ended, thankfully. I am glad I did not see what came next.
I woke up. As expected, there was a poem next to me again.
The father, the son, the child.
It ends with a three.
Kill Abraham Jennings.
And you will be free.
This time I lost it. I refused to believe that Mr. Jennings was a monster. The guy, that saved my life. The guy was a role model and father figure for so many people. I refused to believe, that he was this cruel monster. A pedophile who, potentially killed a 5 year old girl. It can’t be!
Was Mr. Takai really a murderer, or did I shoot an innocent man?
This has to stop! I need to be stopped! I will not kill again! I refuse!
I decided, to turn myself in. I am sick. I am a sick man!
I went to police station and told them everything. About how I killed my father with a hammer and how I shot Mr. Takai. They took it very serious of course and handcuffed me. They released me later, however.
Apparently, Takai had committed suicide. A neighbor had heard a gun shot and called the cops. They found him inside with a suicide note and gun in his hand. They checked the gun and the gunshot wound. Without a doubt, it was fired from his own gun.
My father? Apparently he fell in his bathroom and hit his head. He bled out on the floor. His girlfriend saw him and called an ambulance, but it was too late.
They said their “Sorry for your loss.” and told me indirectly to fuck off and stop wasting their time. Just another whackjob in a city filled with whackjobs. It was impossible, that I was the murderer.
On my way out I saw a missing poster. Gina Smith, blond, 5 years old, missing since 2 weeks. It was the girl from my dream. The girl Abraham kidnapped. He must have killed her.
Either way, it’s not my job to bring justice. I will let the police handle it. I was sure that I had gone insane. So, I went home and put the gun in my mouth. As you know already, it jammed. She doesn’t let me do it. I have to kill Jennings first.
I drank, again, and made my way to his house. I ran the door and he came out, smiling and happy to see me.
“Josh? What a nice surprise! How are you?” he said.
“Mr. Jennings, I am sorry, but, I simply can’t believe it, but, did you kidnap a 5 year old girl?” I said, getting straight to the point. I was not in the mood for chit chat, I was here to kill the guy.
“What? Girl? What are you talking about?!” he shouted surprised. I saw, however, panic and fear on his face.
I pulled out my gun and pointed it at him. He raised his hands and began to beg.
“Josh! What are you doing? Please! I don’t know what you are talking about!” he pleaded.
“Did she beg too, when you raped her and killed her?” I screamed.
“Josh…I…josh… don’t!” he shouted.
I pulled the trigger. The bullet went trough his right eye. He collapsed on the floor and I shot at his chest till my gun was empty.
I bought another bottle of jack and went home, drank it and fell asleep.
I had another dream. A pleasant one. I was with a beautiful woman and a little girl in the park. The little, adorable bundle of joy called me daddy. It was a short dream, but the woman seemed to be my wife and the girl was apparently my daughter. Well, I am obviously not married and don’t have children, so I didn’t know what that was about.
This time, there was no note next to me. I turned on the TV and watched the news. Breaking news. They found Jennings shot dead, exactly where I had left him. They spoke of “vigilante justice”. The police had checked his computer and found a lot of pornographic content, involving minors. They also found pictures of the missing girl. Yup, that five year old blond girl. It was true. That bastard had killed her. Seems like I was not crazy. Everything was true.
I was done. I did my part of the deal. There were no more killings. No more messages or notes or poems. I did another check up with the doctor. No cancer, no tumor. I was healthy.
I am writing this letter with a full confession and am putting it in a sealed envelope. When I die, someone will find it and read it. I don’t care if they believe me. It just helps writing it down, knowing that someday, someone might.
I decided to not kill myself. Look towards the future. Who knows, maybe I will actually meet that woman from my dream? Maybe we will marry and have a baby girl? I forgot what she looked like, but am sure, that I will know once I see her. I will know she is the right one.
I now understand, the deal I had made. Well I think I do. 3 for 3. I took 3 lives. Killed 3 monsters. In exchange I get my health, a wife and a girl. 3. I haven’t gotten them yet, but, no need to hurry.
Takai’s sister moved in next door. She seems nice.