It should come as no surprise to anyone that murder has been a comfort to me in the weeks since mom died. I’ve gone out hunting about three times a week. I don’t even necessarily have to kill them. I do. I’m really not into the catch and release. But my point is: it’s not about them.
The
victims.
Yes, I tend
to look for older white men because punching up is always preferable and
slightly confuses my karmic balance. I also don’t tend to stalk or get to know
my victims before I go in with a pen to their eyeball – that was so messy! I
don’t care who they are, just that I’m in the mood to kill and they’re very
killable.
I think,
for me, it’s a bit about control. Being able to determine someone’s death (the
what, where, when, why, and how of it all), it makes me feel calm. Like, everything
might be falling apart and I’m being sent to another foster home, that bitch at
school outs my friend, or the closest thing I’ve ever had to a mom dies in a
random car accident, but only I get to decide how and when the old lady at the
co-op will choke on the bleach I put in her tea.
No one else
gets to decide how their life ends but me.
I don’t
really know what to do with my life.
I’ve been
reading old entries and doing way too much math and it’s just made me feel…
lost. In a few months, I’ll be the same age as Sandra when she died. At my age,
Jason was in the process of escaping “the family curse”, and mom had committed
her first murder. I have more than a few kills under my belt but I don’t have
the support system she had, or the future Jason had, or the past Sandra had. I’m
graduating in June and I have no fucking clue what I’m going to do after that.
All I’ve
ever been focused on is death and I can’t exactly make a career out of it. I’m
not as closed-off to the idea of assassination as mom was. I would not mind
make a few thousand dollars to do something I already do. What’s that old
saying: do what you love and the money will follow.
Even if I
did go into the incredibly lucrative business of murder for hire, I still need
a cover job. I need skills and knowledge that help me blend in to society. And
despite all the shit I’ve been through, I feel like I know absolutely nothing
about how the world works. I can throw a kitchen knife and have it land in a
man’s jaw from 50 feet away. I know the exact blend of ethylene glycol and soda
that makes the poison undetectable.
Neither of
which I can put on my resume when applying for college. Not that I’m sure I
want to attend college. I just don’t know what I want to do. And why, the fuck,
do I have to figure it out now?
I’m
seventeen-fucking-years-old. Why do I have to have my entire life mapped out?
It’s not fair.
Nothing
that ever happens in fair.
That’s why there’s
people like me in the world. For every bad person and bad thing that happens,
someone else gets to smile. I just kind of wish I got some of that happiness,
too.
Sincerely,
Casey
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