I apologize for not responding earlier but
I needed to take some time away from the world while I got my head on straight.
Last Wednesday morning I was called down to
the local police station for quote “routine questioning”. I was more than
certain that Sandra had called the police and told them everything.
And I was right. The police knew about all
the recent murders but they couldn’t find any substantial evidence other than
the word of a teenage girl pointing the finger at her guardian. They didn’t
believe her but they wanted me to know. They asked a lot of questions about
James.
When I got home I was…more than upset. I
was enraged. I saw red and I blacked out. When I came to, Sandra was dead. She
had a huge gash on the back of her head and the glass cabinet in the living room
was shattered. I think I pushed her.
Apparently a neighbour heard shouting and
phoned the police. They showed up and found Sandra’s body. And then they
arrested James for all the murders. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ve
taken Jason out of school. I’ve thought about going on the run. My niece is
dead, my husband is in jail for a murder I committed. I just…I don’t
I’m kidding.
The meeting with the police went fine. They
had some follow-up questions about a fatal car crash I witnessed a few days
ago. No mention of Sandra or murder. Or James.
But it forced me to…face my mortality.
That’s been the theme of the week. Mortality.
I’m becoming more and more aware that there
will come a time when the authorities do catch on to what I’ve been doing.
Whether it’s Sandra, or a neighbour, or myself, they’ll figure me out and then
life as I know it will be gone. It could be tomorrow, it could be ten years
from now; I can’t keep killing forever. As much as I’d love to imagine myself
as a little old lady offing other residents in a nursing home, I probably won’t
last that long.
One of my first fights with James was about
why I kill. About what would happen
if I got caught. To him and to me. I remember telling him that I kill because I
have no other choice. I kill because there is something in my blood (maybe from
my mother; what I wouldn’t give to be able to blame her) that makes me need to kill; to take life away. It can
be overwhelming. But I’ve always been good at controlling my urges. I don’t
have a disease or a crippling addiction. I just like it. Sometimes I’ve even
gotten off on it. It’s an adrenaline rush. Yesterday I killed a man who was
pulled over on the side of the road…because I could. Because I wanted to. The
whole way home I kept thinking, “what if I get caught?”
James trusts me to not get caught.
We never discussed exactly what he would do
if I were to get arrested but last night, we sat down while the kids were out
and had an honest discussion.
I made him promise that if I am ever
arrested for murder, he will take the kids – I don’t care if they’re in their
30s when it happens – and he’ll run. It’s not ideal but it’s better than prison
or the media.
The only reason I’m telling you this is
because when the day comes for James to run, I need you to make sure he does. I
know my husband. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me (and I for him)
including some pretty stupid things.
The anonymity and insane technobabble (that
my sister never did explain to me) behind this blog keeps all of you safe from prosecution
so to whoever is reading this: please, please
keep my husband safe. He doesn’t read the blog but he knows it exists and he
knows that this is a safe place. I’m trusting the internet of all places to
keep my story alive.
And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to
go have hot sex with my husband while the door’s open so I can potentially
traumatize my niece and nephew. It’s what normal families do, right?
As always, dear readers,
Stay Safe
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