Did you know that there are types of serial killers? Of course you did; you haven’t been following me for this long, and not picked up some general knowledge about murderous statistics. I find those numbers fascinating because I demand to defy the odds.
Also my dress
is squeaking as I lean against the desk. It’s very distracting.
Quick rant:
I never learned how to type properly. It drives me nuts. I learned cursive, and
I learned to type on my mother’s typewriter like a fucking nerd, and then when
computers became mainstream (oh my god), there were typing classes but the curriculum
at my school didn’t implement it until it was too late.
Obviously,
I can type, but that way that you’re supposed to type (with you hands and
wrists at a certain angle and your feet flat on the ground, and the asdf;lkj
bullshit) has never made it into my brain. Things would be so much easier if I
could type with all my fingers in a proper manner.
Anyways.
Types of
serial killers.
For those
who don’t know, there are four classifications of serial killers (serial
killers being defined as three or more murders committed by the same person or
persons over a significant period of time):
Thrill-seekers,
mission oriented, visionary, and control.
There’s also
Black Widow, Spree, and Lust (and a few others I can’t remember right now and I’m
too lazy to look up) but those can fit into the four main categories if you try
hard enough.
Basically,
thrill-seekers do it for the attention, mission oriented have an end goal,
visionaries have lost their marbles, and controllers do it for fun.
Guess which
category I fit into.
That’s
right, none of them. Did you not read my earlier statement about defying the
odds?
The reason
I’ve survived as long as I have is because I don’t fit any statistic. You can’t
track me on a map. Anyone who knows of my life is either dead or an accomplice.
Or both.
Except for
her. The unnamed woman. The bane of my existence. What the fuck am I supposed
to do about her? I can’t find her; I have no idea where to even start looking.
As long as she’s out there, I have no way of knowing how much she knows or what
she plans to do with that information. It just sits in the back of my mind, this
terrifying reminder that my family and I are not safe.
Do you
remember what happened the last time I went crazy?
Things suck
right now. The world is awful. I need this consistency – this security – and that
woman (whoever she is) is threatening my way of life.
There aren’t
a lot of things I can control right now.
But I can
sure as hell find a way to get her out of my head. It’s the same way I get rid
of all my problems: Daniel, Charlotte, Andrew, all the others.
I hunt them
down and destroy them. I remove them from existence slowly and painfully. I
take pleasure in watching the light leave their eyes whenever possible (even if
I didn’t kill Andrew myself, he’s dead because of me).
I protect
the family I built through blood and tears no matter what.
I have to
find her. And add her to the collection.
I won’t give
in to the madness.
I can’t.
Not again.
As always,
dear readers,
Stay Safe
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