Editor’s note: This piece is published in the name of transparency to our readers. We believe that even the ramblings of a mad man ought to be open for public interpretation and criticism. To hide this letter would be a crime on our part. We do warn our dear readers that the following words are graphic. Please read with caution and scrutiny.
Dear editor, and readers of the Alderberry Post,
It’s true, I’m a rather paranoid person. This isn’t because I’m crazy, like you would have me labeled. I write to you today in order to clear my name of the crime I have committed, but of the crime of being labeled as another crazy delusional, murdering psychopath. My disease which you pronounce with the dirtiest of spittle in your mouth has superbly made me better than you. I hear, feel and see things of heaven and hell. I sense those things in between as well. Tell me, if I were truly insane, could I recall every minuscule detail of my tale?
With all honesty, it is frankly impossible to recall how my crime came into my thoughts. I just know that once I thought of it, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Every waking moment became thoughts of her demise. You see, she never did me any harm. In fact, it was quite the opposite. She loved me, like a swan to its partner. I was wrapped so tightly around her finger that in order to live normally she would have to sever it. She kept me there, and without a doubt I enjoyed it. Everyday was like the first day of loving her. I called her name and she came running.
I had no desire for her life insurance, this was trivial to me. Just as I said, I was completely hers. She never hurt me, never lied, and never rejected any of my suggestions for dates or activities. She fucked like a sewing machine, she trapped me in two ways; in her heart and between her legs. A pro in bed, but a virgin by nature. She was innocent, sweet and loyal.
It was her eyes. They led to her ultimate downfall. A downfall in such a spectacular fashion, that to spend a moment away from it in my mind is a sin against humanity itself. Whenever her eyes met mine, I felt something deep inside. My blood ran cold and heaven itself opened up and swallowed me whole. I didn’t decide overnight to do my deed. No, no. It came to me each time she looked into my soul and dug out love that even I had no idea I had. You would say her eyes are what drove me mad, but I would say they drove me right, right into the destiny we both shared.
I contest your infantile labeling of me as a psychopathic killer. You should’ve seen how smoothly I moved. I used nothing but the utmost precision and instinct, and the disease you say I have only increased my accuracy. For I had the hearing of a deer, and she was the deer caught in the headlights of my movements.
Our relationship was arguably the strongest in the week leading up to her glorious finale. I had never treated a woman so well. Flowers, picnics, movies, chocolates and all the charades you supposedly morally superior people put on for one another, but behind the scenes I was working.
In every way I was better than her. You see, we lived separately. She, on the other side of town, the poorer part. I drove a mercedes, she had a 1998 camry. I worked as a lawyer in a prestigious injury law firm, while she worked at a grocery store. Like you, the reader and the editor of this miserable paper, she was trash.
The final act of her life began on a late Sunday night. It was midnight, and she was soundly sleeping. I raised her window, the screen I had removed on one of our movie nights at her house, though you could call it a shack when compared to mine.
I stuck my head into the window, and listened to her breathing while she slept peacefully. Slowly, over the next eight days, I went in further and further. Each time, I could hear her beating heart, thanks to the disease you say makes me dangerous to society. It would beat slow some nights, and fast others. She would have a nightmare, I could easily tell. Now tell me, do I not sound superior to the average person?
Finally, on the night of her end, I was fully in her bedroom. This was not to be another night of intimacy in the “normal” sense of the word, but a night of entertainment, put on by the most fabulous entertainer himself. To my dismay, she awoke as I was slightly through the window. She was startled by either a dream, or maybe she somehow caught on to my menacing show. She stayed in this state for about an hour. She was playing on her phone and texting me, the only person that could offer her a sense of safety. I waited so long my legs almost went numb. While I was waiting, I could hear her whisper to herself she said things like “It was nothing” and “Maybe it was that damn mouse again”. Little did she know, she was my mouse, and I was the cat. Chasing her, and soon enough I would have her within my claws.
There was ample time until she would go back to sleep. I could hear her heart even better now. Her blood pulsing through her veins, and her quick and shallow breath. She was still clearly in fear of my presence, despite not being aware of it.
With each pulse, each breath, I found my instincts harder and harder to control. I had to act, or else I would explode. I leapt through the rest of the window and as I came tumbling to the floor of her dilapidated house, her eyes again met mine. I felt empowered. I had a sense of ultimate judgment. Judgment that I would cast on her with excellent fury. That night, I was the judge, jury and executioner.
With one swift movement I grabbed her arm. She let out a shriek and I pulled her to the ground. I moved my hands with purpose to her throat. I latched on and held. I held tightly, so tightly. Her eyes locked with mine, driving me further into the night’s act. I strangled her with excellent ease. Her throat and vocal chords became merged with my fingers. The feeling I got from this was euphoric, though that isn’t a good enough word for it.
My senses were more than that of a trained dog. I heard everything. Even her last breath. This aroused me beyond belief, and as her eyes closed, I felt relief.
I had completed my destiny and hers on that night.
She was now wrapped around my fingers, literally.
Never before my heroic act of self determination had I felt the true extent of my supernatural powers.
Death had been around her for the past eight days. It stalked her, it learned her, and it took her. His shadow encased her in a hue of darkness. It trapped her for me, and made her quick and easy prey.
Edit: Continued in comments.