The house
has become a rather unusual place over the last few weeks. Between inviting
Heather into my home out of some (deserved, I suppose) guilt for ruining her
life, Casey having to go back to school, and James back to work full time,
there hasn’t been a real sense of normalcy lately.
Also it’s
my birthday today. 43 years old and no fucking clue what I’m doing with my life
other than murdering people and taking in strays.
If only
either of those things was a viable career option.
And we have
been killing a fair bit, lately. 2 or 3 people per week (which was my average
at the peak of my obsession). It’s not always as a family – I do still enjoy my
private time – but the time we do spend together, the four of us, is really
nice.
Like this
most recent murder.
Actually, it
was a pair this time. Two joggers at the local park, not wearing masks, flipped
off Casey when she suggested that they should. A little girl. My little girl.
They had to go.
I let Casey
take the lead since this was obviously her kill but James and I were there
every step of the way, to guide her through what technique she wanted and the
best tools for the job. It was comically easy to get to them since all we had
to do was follow them home and sneak in the back door while they were resetting
the alarm.
Usually, we
would take them back home but this seemed like the quickest method to get what
he wanted – plus it gave Casey some practice on improvisation and using her
surroundings. She knows what we have to kill people with, but what can she use
to strangle someone or peel off their toenails.
In a show
of irony that I was very proud of, she had us all don masks (including our belligerent
couple, whose masks were also stuffed tight so no one could hear their muffled
screams) and then she started at their toes and worked her way up. With each
limb, she would alternate between a hammer, a meat tenderizer (I told you, they
were excellent tools), and a pair of tweezers she kept in a bowl of boiling
water when not in use, to break bones, and pull out anything that broke through
the skin.
It was
innovative, painful, and agonizingly long but the joy on her face filled me
with such pride.
I know I’ve
said this before, but having someone in the house who really understands what I
do, has been a weight off my chest like I never imagined.
The family
that tortures together…
Actually, I’ve
been thinking about that, as well. I’m a little worried we’re becoming the torture
family of our generation. Every few decades (at least), there’s a group of
people who terrorize part of all of their country with their murder spree. As
much fun as I’m having, I really don’t want to become that family.
It never
ends well for the leader.
Still, if
you’d looked at that little girl’s blood-soaked face and saw the glee and
desperate need for approval, you’d give in to the cultish nature of your family
dynamic just to keep her smiling.
So for now,
nothing changes.
But damn,
do changes need to come soon.
As always,
dear readers,
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