I’m slowly moving on
from vehicular homicide so I suppose that’s something to be proud of. I’ve
moved on to kitchen appliances which has been making me nostalgic for the last
few days. Kitchen appliances were the first weapons I started with. To be
specific, an Oster Granger Steak Knife, something I took from my friend’s mom
when I was over at her house. The 90s were a little more relaxed in how teens
interact unsupervised.
This coming from the
woman who can name three(?) of her children’s friends. We’ll call them Edith,
Emmett, and Christopher. I’ve only met them a handful of times, and usually
just in passing as they head out the door with Sandra or up to Jason’s room.
You know, Jason used
to be more of a social creature. He would be outside with his friends any
chance he got. He would miss curfew more than once and I would constantly be
calling his girlfriend’s house to get him home. He still has a girlfriend and
he still has friends, but he prefers to hang out with them in his room or
online.
As a woman who thrives
on anonymity and regularly blogs, I don’t condemn internet interactions; I’ve
just noticed that he’s become a lot more…intrapersonal? I don’t think that’s
the right word. I can’t think of the right word. He’s doing a lot more on his
own. And that’s not bad. Just different.
But anyways, when I
first started killing, I used this steak knife that I stole from my friend’s
house. I was too scared that my mom would notice anything missing from our
kitchen so I used someone else’s. Eventually I moved on to other appliances –
blenders were part of my experimental phase in college; too messy for practical
use – but I will always cherish the steak knife. Not the original one, of
course, I got rid of that a long time ago.
I found myself going
back to the classics this week: first by accident, and then because it felt
natural. I worried that three dead bodies all killed in a similar manner might
tip the authorities to the possibility of a serial killer but James moved one
of the bodies. He drove all night and dumped it in another town so that
authorities wouldn’t make a connection. Two victims killed with two different
knives in two different ways won’t raise too many eyebrows in this town. That’s
why I chose this town. It’s so big, it can’t see the big picture.
20 years, I’ve been
committing murder; and the only people to ever learn my secret are my daughter,
my husband, and my stalker. My sister is a whole other matter because she was
there from the very beginning. The rest of them seem to protect me in their own
way.
James is silently
watching my back, while Sandra is keeping her brother’s innocence safe. Daniel
is…obsessively following me, supposedly to clean up after my messes. I think he’s
just lonely. Charlotte confided in me that she’s thinking of leaving him. She
thinks he’s having an affair – or at least, he isn’t telling her the truth and
he’s never around anymore. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was all
my fault. Mostly because I can’t stand to lose a friend to this feud. It’d be
pointless. It’s over now. Daniel’s actions are his own and even if I instigated
this recent change, I have no control over the outcome.
There’s no sense in
confessing old crimes. That much, I know.
So for now, I bide my
time with Daniel and continue a friendly relationship with Charlotte and hope
that nothing can be traced back to me.
What could go wrong?
Crap, now that I’ve
said it, I’m screwed.
As always, dear
readers,
Stay Safe
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