I am in my bedroom, with my newly built computer to my right. Oh, I am ecstatic about it. Built, actually built. Not bought from those stupid companies. Yes, built using my own hands. As I sit myself down a deep, dark, primordial urge rose up inside of me. It was one of those moments again. I couldn’t help myself. I locked the door, closed the shades, and turned off all the lights. I had to restrain myself you see, for it was a violent urge. A killing urge. I needed to get my hands, wrapped around a neck, squeezing it, until I could feel nothing left. I sadistically laughed; I had already done it a couple of hours ago, and now the urge came upon me again. I glanced over into the closet. There I saw the cleaning lady hung on the rack. I had sliced her head off, and then jammed a rope inside of her, and the other side of the rope I had tied to the rack. The blood of that devil was dripping onto the floorboards, I heard every drop, and it meant that this devil was getting its treatment. It was a pleasuring sight, to see a lifeless corpse, once filled with vibrant hellos, and greetings. If you wonder at all if I am sane or not, let me tell you. This devil, who took the form of a cleaning lady tried to enter, I mean, even the notion of it, she tried to enter my sacred room. This sacred room I am in, writing my last words as I hear the sirens coming to bring me to the underworld. I shall not go willingly, but first readers, I shall tell you of my last favor, before ending the lady in the closet.

After dealing with the cleaning lady, I had to wash my hands. Yes, that devil’s blood was tainted. I then spent time, cleansing my body and spirit of these vile thoughts. I walked on; I decided that a stroll would be good for the spirit. I had my knife in my pocket, and my final knife in my coat. Yes, I shall never forget his name. My knife’s name is, Knife. As I locked my door, I decided to take a right instead of my usual left. Step by step, that violent urge grew darker, and darker. I could not contain myself. I cannot contain myself. I heard some sobbing from a house not far. I decided to check it out, after all, I love that look in the volunteer’s eyes, after I gain their trust, and I get to see them realize what my true intentions are, but, they end before anyone else can find out. It is an action, a feeling that I cannot begin to describe. I had reached the house, with a smile on my face after the thought that I would see that in their eyes soon. I unlatched the gate to the backyard of that house, and closed it on the way in. Even though I am in the twenties, I look as if I am younger. A trait that my lineage has been bestowed with. I saw an innocent girl, about nineteen or older. I decided that she had broken up. I have seen many peers succumb to this feeling. What do you call it? Love? Passion? Well, I have never loved someone, I know the effects of it, and whomever who tried to get close to me, would not live to see another day.

After consoling with this girl, I had found out that she is called Iris, for her eyes are green. She had recently broken up with someone, and needed someone to confine in. It took me days to get into her trust, but once I had the key to the vault, all I needed was an opening, and this subject was full of openings.

A couple of hours later, on a Sunday afternoon, I had brought my knife. I let myself into her room through the window, and saw her there, waiting for me as usual. I shall now provide to you, my dearest reader the quotes. However, they may not be accurate. “So, doing anything much?” I asked
“No, just waiting for you!” she replied
“Awesome, um, could you do me a favor and turn around real quick? I have something special” I whispered.
“Anything for you Byron and you know that.” She spoke her final words.

I unsheathed my knife, turned her around in her chair, and plunged Knife into her stomach. I twisted it, and covered her mouth. I saw those eyes again, betrayal, hate, sorrow. For a second, regret flashed through my mind. I decided to rid of it. I finished the job by ripping out her throat using my mouth. I then severed her head, finally, I had hung her the same way I had hung the cleaning lady. I jovially went home, and let myself daintily eat a sandwich. For you see, everyone has to have etiquette, I am after all, above average. I am the best, I am the best.

Ah, dear reader, looks like our time is up, the blues are coming in to get me, now, I have pressed save, and thus this is saved onto a website. Now, I shall leave you with one comforting thought. I will live to see you another day…