Your MId-Week Update for 07/15/20

Sometimes I wonder if I’m too cruel. I mean, yes, I’m a serial killer who hasn’t taken a break for more than a few months for the past twenty years, and my body count will be recorded in history books if they ever learn the true number.

But, like, in a fun way.

And yes, some of my murders are incredibly violent, damaging and dismembering beyond recognition for my own safety. If someone crosses my family, I’ve been known to employ military torture techniques for my own pleasure.

But, like, in a creative way.

Murder is an art form, you see.

It’s not enough to just shoot someone and be done with it. The ones who truly understand what they’re doing are the ones who are practiced, and careful, and appreciate what they’re doing. And it pays about as well as any other art form.

It’s when I don’t kill someone, that I truly feel cruel. I take pride in my work – enjoy the creative expression and power I wield over someone else. I don’t derive the same pleasure from almost killing. Paralyzing someone, leaving them in a vegetative state, trapping them in their own minds: it’s cruel. I get nothing out of it and they’re still left in pain. I am happy to put people out of their misery once I’ve got them in my grasp. Not to, makes little sense. Who benefits?

There was a woman a few weeks ago – when I took Casey out for a ‘hunt’. Casey stabbed her in the back of the head and we thought that would be the end of it but it wasn’t. We saw on the news later that day that the woman had survived but suffered severe brain damage. I wondered about her from time to time – what kind of damage had been done, what she could feel, if she was able to tell authorities what had happened to her.

I went to see her on Sunday. Snuck into the hospital and into ICU (a harrowing story for another time) where I found the woman lying on a bed surrounded by wires. From what I could make of her chart, Casey had struck a cluster of nerves on the side of the medulla oblongata and surgery was unsuccessful in repairing the damage. She can see and hear but not speak. She can move parts of her body but not others and not enough to function on her own. For all intents and purposes, she will never get out of bed again. Her body will never heal and she will be stuck in this half-living state forever.

I dislodged her oxygen supply.

She saw me, could understand what I was doing, but from the look in her eyes, she wouldn’t have stopped me even if she could. Watching the light leave her eyes left me with no satisfaction. I went home that night and cried and then I woke up this morning, not feeling guilty – feeling absolved, instead. I won’t look into her case again, but I know what will happen. They’ll think it’s an accident or negligence and write it off as just another death. But she and I will always know that for one moment, I wasn’t cruel.

And that’s enough.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe