My Double Life

Flashback

I was 15 the first time I snapped. It's happened a couple more times over the years, but 15 was the darkest point in my life. It's the first time I killed someone and really, truly enjoyed it. It was almost as if I wanted to kill, not because the people deserved it, but because I liked the way it felt as their life left their bodies. That feeling of complete control over another person, knowing that their life was in my hands, literally and figuratively. I lost control of myself.

I couldn't even really think about anything other than wanting to kill. I actually looked forwards to going on missions so that I could increase my body count. At first I didn't really realize that anything was wrong. It took me a few months before I could finally accept that the animalistic and brutal thoughts coursing through my brain weren't normal or okay. I felt so alone and thought myself to be so worthless. If I enjoyed killing so much, what made me any different from the people I went after on a daily basis? I was just like them, a hypocrite who deserved the same fate as them.

It was Ed who first noticed that something wasn't right with me. I knew he had been watching me for awhile but I thought it was just because I was so young and he was so much older and more experienced. I found out later that he was concerned for my diminishing mental state. Ed, before anyone else, before even myself, noticed that I needed help.

I think that this is why I love Ed so much, as more than just a partner. He's my family. Ever since I joined this crazy new life, he was the one person who knew every aspect of my life. From family drama, to dangers in the field, to my parents' death. He was there for everything. And he never seemed to blame me anything wrong that I ever did. Even when I snapped, he still treated me like I was the strongest person he knew.

I went into counseling with the help of Ed's constant nagging. I know, me in counseling. Even I can't picture it but it happened. And it really helped me realize that what I was feeling wasn't necessarily wrong. In my mind, it wasn't the killing of these people that excited me. It was the idea that because of me someone who was scum and a criminal would no longer be left out there in the world to cause destruction. More than wanting them dead, I wanted justice. I wanted them off the streets so that no one else would be hurt by their actions. It just took the loss of some of my own soul for that to happen.

I like to tell myself that killing people hasn't changed me but it has. How could it not? I also told myself that I would never be thrilled by a kill again. Killing was merely a means to an end. From that point on I kept that promise to myself. Until now.