Thought You Knew (based on A Gorey Demise)

"C is for Curt with disease of the brain..."

[[wOOt. This'll be fun.]]
        "I'm proud of you, Curtis."
        "Huh?"
        "You've done such horrible things, and I'm proud."
        "Who are you?"
        "Ah, my real name will remain a secret. You can call me by my alias: Twenty Four."
        "How do you know my name?"
        "I know everything that you do. I've been watching you from afar Curtis, and I must say, I am impressed by your killer instinct."
        "What do you want with me?"
        "That's a question I get asked frequently. I don't want anything as of yet, friend. All I wanted to say is that I'm proud of you."
        "'As of yet'? Does that mean you'll ask me to do something later?"
        "Perhaps, but let's not worry about that presently. Right now, my only request is that you keep doing what you're doing. Don't give up, don't let your devious plans go to waste. You have a gift, Curtis. Satan has blessed you with the curse of a sociopath. Don't just throw that all away, alright?"
        "O...kay..."
        "Good! Thank you for your loyalty. And remember, I'm always watching."
        "Wait, loyalty? Hello? Twenty Four?"
        That little snippet of dialogue describes how I met my friend Twenty Four. He initially existed as a voice in my head, always willing to provide me with helpful tips and wise words of advise. It was a week after Billy's unfortunate demise that Twenty Four decided to make himself known to me. He was the only one that knew my honest intentions and what I had done.
       Speaking of which, I found it disappointing how no one investigating the scene had the slightest suspicion of me. Who was with Billy when he was attacked by the dog? Me. But what was the recognition I got? One little questioning. Sure, I lied so that the authorities would continue to look past me. Why would I have wanted to get caught at that early stage, anyways? Could you imagine if a child like me began to plan out a massive massacre, eager to reek havoc amongst the city and its inhabitants, was taken to a questioning where he matter-of-factly explained how and when he did everything to murder his first two victims? Does that not sound absurd to you? It certainly does to me. Despite how utterly mindboggling it was to see how clueless everyone was, I wasn't complaining. It was a hundred percent better than getting found out. Am I rambling? My apologies, I will continue onwards with the story.
        My mother took me to see a doctor once I mentioned Twenty Four. I didn't know why she seemed so worried, for all she knew he could have just been an imaginary friend. However, with the recent events I guess I can sort of understand why she would panic right away. Better safe than sorry, right? We arrived at the doctors office at around 2:00 PM on July 31st. We waited in silence until the person at the desk called out my name. My mother and I stood up and followed her into a room where we once again, sat and waited in silence.
        The doctor seemed intrigued by my friend. He asked me tons of questions about him, and I happily answered. This is what I can remember of our little conversation.
        "Hello! You must be Curtis, am I right?"
        "You're most likely never wrong."
        "Ha ha ha, I guess not. So, the nurse told me that you have a friend named Twenty Four."
        "She's correct. I guess everyone's on their 'A game' today."
        "Can I meet Twenty Four?"
        "No, you can't."
        "Why not?"
        "Only I can talk and listen to Twenty Four. He only trusts me."
        "Why does he only trust you?"
        "Because I'm special."
        "Everyone's special in their own way, aren't they?"
        "Not that kind of special. I mean I was chosen by him. Me specifically. He will only talk to the people he chooses, and I happen to be one of them."
        "Is Twenty Four nice?"
        "Yes, very nice."
        "What kind of things do you and Twenty Four talk about?"
        "Hmm... We talk about games we like to play and funny or cool experiences we had in our lives. Stuff like that!" That was obviously a lie. We only talked about what was important: Who and how to kill.
        "What's Twenty Four like?"
        "Like I said, he's really nice. We have the same sense of humour, too."
        "Do you have any more friends, Curtis?"
        "No, just Twenty Four." I do remember the remainder of the conversation, but none of it is of importance. I'll conclude this chapter by confirming that I was diagnosed with paranoid type schizophrenia about two months later.
        
        [[Yes. I know. Schizophrenia is a psychotic disorder, not a 'disease of the brain'. Let me off the hook here, I couldn't find any other way around this, since Curtis has to live at least until Z.]]