In My Mind: Memoirs of a Killer

Chapter One

     I knew it when I was young. That I was different. Everytime someone hurt someone else, or made me mad... I just couldn't process the rage. I couldn't put it away. It started with the thoughts. They were intrusive, painful, and difficult to control. As a young boy I didn't know that it wasn't okay to think those things, and I didn't know it wasn't okay to act on them either. All I wanted to know was what the bad man was thinking that day so long ago; why he felt such pleasure killing an innocent family. The police say they never found him. That he disappeared off the face of the Earth. I don't believe them. I'll find him someday if those deadbeat good for nothing pigs refuse to. 

It started with the animals. About a year or two after the accident, I still refused to talk to anyone, but when I saw an animal I would kill it. I kept trying to figure out the motive behind such a horrid act. And how that man couldn't feel guilt after what he'd done. Because no matter how many times I would kill a small animal, cat, dog, squirrel... I always felt guilty. But then I couldn't stop. When I was twelve I struck again. But this one was more than an animal. 

...

    The boy refused to stop looking at me. I think he was fifteen, maybe sixteen. He looked at me with a reddish face. He looked angry, heated. Like he wanted something from me. Day after day he kept staring at me. He slept on the bunk next to mine and every night he stared at me and breathed heavily. His bed always shook just a bit with every huff. Every time I just rolled over and closed my eyes, attempting to will myself to sleep instead of focusing on the disgusting teenager. One morning he came up to me and spoke to me for the first time. 

    "Do you want to get out of here?" He said, nonchalant, like he ran away all the time. He probably did, that might be why he's in the boy's home. 

Still refusing to talk, I nodded, curious. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of a window, leading me into the forest behind the home. That's where I found all the animals. I knew my way around. He pulled me deeper and deeper into the forest until we got to this little hut that he must have made out of trees and sticks. He crawls inside and becons for me to do the same, so I do. We sit awkwardly and I play with the dirt floor and a stick, drawing whatever comes to my mind. He stares at me like he always does. 

"So what's your name?" He asks. I shrug, still not wanting to talk. "Did something happen to you or whatever? The only time you get even close to talking is when you open your mouth to eat." He says. I shrug again. 

"Well, uh, my name is Eric. I'm sixteen, how old are you?" He asks. I shrug, still focused on my drawing in the sand. He begins to get impatient. 

"C'mon man just say something, I'm not some adult, just talk to me. I won't hurt you." He says. I looked at him skeptically and he gave me a warm, comforting smile. Suddenly this boy, Eric, made me comfortable. He seemed more human than any other time I had seen him. So I opened my mouth. 

"John." I whispered. The first word I had said in years. His eyes light up. 

"John, aye? How old are you, pal?" He asks, sitting a little closer. 

"Twelve." I whispered. He smiled that warm smile again. 

"What happened to you, John?" He asked. I shrugged and his eyes blazed with a scary fire, but as fast as it came, it left, and he sighed, deciding to try again. "Tell me bud, what happened?" He asked. My eyes teared up. 

"The bad man came to my house... It wasn't supposed to be my house... He shot the two of them... And ran her over..." I whispered, breathing heavily after saying it out loud. His jaw drops, but his smile doesn't fade. He sits a little closer and I suddenly get a very bad feeling. 

"Her...? A friend? Your mom?" He whispers, his mouth by my ear. 

"My twin." I say, closing my eyes as his lips brush my neck. His hand comes to my shoulder furthest away from him, and he brings himself to his knees, pushing his body against my back, his arms searching my chest and pulling me close to him. His grip is tight. Then something pokes my back subtly, it's barely anything but it's still there.