Haphazard Explorations & Experiments In Fiction
Sometimes I scare myself. I’m an addict you know. Not to your usual drugs though, I prefer another kind of high. The kind that comes from strapping someone down to a chair, asking them questions, telling them about myself. I said before that I don’t have much preference one way or the other when it comes to letting them think they’ll be free again. They can think that, or they can come to terms with the truth. Whatever I decide on, which I do on a case by case basis. Can’t treat everyone exactly the same… that wouldn’t be very much fun.
I like the sense of control. Although to be honest, it’s not so much a “sense of control” as it is “absolute control”. Barring a miracle, I decide what happens, how it happens, and when it happens. Their lives are in my hands, up to the moment I decide they’re over. It’s all very nice and tidy too. All I have to do afterwards is visit the kitchen sink, and their blood is washed away. Of course, this level of casual disregard for forensics means I have to be even more careful about the rest of the process. Capturing my disposable friends, getting rid of their bodies after we’re done… but it’s worth the extra pain in my ass. Truly it is.
This way, I can pretty much relax at home.
More than that, I like the time we spend together. I can say whatever I want, do whatever I want, without worrying about the consequences. They can’t run to my boss to get me fired, they can’t turn me into the cops or lead me by the nose into some mental institution. They have to see me for who I am without running away or shielding themselves with the law, or with other people. It feels good to be known. I can’t keep any one of them for long, but I can always get someone else. There’s risk with the law, with the possibility of being caught, but that adds to the thrill. And it’s nothing when I compare that to the total lack of risk in my brief, one on one relationships. That’s makes it worthwhile.
The death is intoxicating too. Watching the light go out in their eyes, holding their hand so I can feel it sag in the very moment the soul leaves the body. It’s beautiful. Peaceful. All the fear and the pain from our time together, all the stress and tension from their lives before they met me, all they ever might have done if they had escaped. It all goes away, leaving a vacant body with a blank stare. It’s like for an instant I can feel what they feel, an instant or pure, blissful relief from all the horrors and hardships of life. In a way I envy them. Not that I know what happens after, but what happens in that last breath is enlightening, invigorating, and calming all at once. Their relief is my relief.
Until the moment passes.
This is what I live for, these moments.
I’m driven to seek them out.
Again and again.
This is something I can never stop doing.
(James Barret ∅ Second Journal Entry)
First Entry: What Comes First
Third Entry: The Urge