Diary of a Sociopath

Prologue

Bundy. Ramirez. Gacy. Chase. All names bound to men who killed for the insatiable craving. The weapons varied from rope to knives, but the motives remained the same; bloodlust. I share their craving, but not their inability to keep it hidden. I have studied any homicide case and have learned how to aid my hunger for the crimson release. My victims are not defenseless brunettes who trust those who offer rides along the side of the road, nor are they boys that I use then dispose with after I have gotten pleasure from them. My victims are chosen specifically by their actions. Those who would make even the devil vomit to know the sins they have committed. I find it justifies my actions if they will get the death penalty in court for their actions. But my MO is not the same each time, which throws off those tailing me. For Berkowitz, it was a bullet in six victims and a plead of insanity that made his modus operandi infamous. For me, it is the fact I make them pay for their actions. Which brings me to tonight.

#4: Harlen Raymond Gustman

A very lovable politician in Providence who spends his days at the office "working hard to better our community", while at night, he picks up little girls and stuffs them into potato sacks by midnight. Little innocent girls whose only mistakes are trusting someone they are taught to.

I arrived at his home at ten thirty at night, just as he had sat in his office with a cigar and the radio to catch up with news he missed while he was at work. I watched him for several minutes as he flipped through photo albums and papers before moving to his desk to pull out a secret bottle of cognac his wife wouldn't appreciate knowing about. 

By entry of a window, I planted my feet firm on the ground before hiding near a bookshelf as he saw the window ajar and went to shut it. Before he could turn completely around, I had a knife against his back as he dropped the glass and it shattered into thousands of pieces at my feet. Upon seeing my face, he must have sensed my soulless eyes as there was nothing but fear in his. That, or the fact the knife was between his third and forth rib. I made him go to his knees and beg for forgiveness-but with no intention of leaving without making another victim on my list. Pulling a single shoelace from my back pocket, he turned his head to me in confusion before his mouth came slowly ajar.

"I can pay you. Any amount you want. I can get you a car even...a house-how about a boat!" Tears filled his eyes as I could see him trembling from his lips to his knees as he tried to bargain for his life. Moving slowly towards his face, I kept a firm glare towards him before showing the shoelace before his gaze.

"Is that what you said to Rachel Bule when you strangled her with her own shoelace?" His eyes grew wide as I could see he was not only shocked, but unsure what to say. He knew it was pointless to fight against it, but he also did not want to die. A common moment just before I execute my craving. I moved behind him as he described each little moment of killing the young girl as I recorded it upon my phone. When he finished, I slid the shoelace around his neck before pulling hard enough to see him stop struggling and fall onto the floor face-first. It was a bittersweet sight for I achieved my hunger and forced the exit of a vile man from this town. But I knew it would cause sadness for the family to hear this recording of the man who killed their daughter. But it usually brought more happy endings then sad ones. And so, when I got home, I burned the confession on a CD and sent it to the police before erasing my history and showering.

Midnight

On the dot, I sit in my usual spot across the way from Micky's. A cute little bistro cafe with a floral shop on the end of it. But it isn't the grilled cheese or the carnations that make me sit here each night. It's her. The woman I only see for five minutes each night-but who makes me feel normal. I know everything one can know about her by observing; she lives five minutes from where she works, she is insecure as she always plays with her hands when talking to people, is an avid smoker since she is a nervous person, and never wears anything but long sleeves and ripped jeans. There was a moment when she walked home where she would release her hair form his tie and her long dark crimson locks would fall at her shoulders, ceasing right at her chest. It was a moment that appeared in slow motion to me, as it made me see a vulnerability in her. But I could never talk to her. It would do no good to become involved. For now, watching her from afar would be enough.

But this night changed everything. I turned my engine to head home before seeing a car pull up beside her. I could see that she was not comfortable as she moved further onto the sidewalk before holding her hands out-rejecting whatever was being asked. I slowly pulled my car out, slowly making my way behind the men who were hassling her before one got out and pulled her towards the car. The other moved to her and the initial attacker with duct tape before placing it upon her hands, leaving her helpless as the other man tried to remove her clothing.

Something boiled in my body as I moved from my car without thought, took my tire iron from my trunk and smashed the car into smithereens. Something the men did not take kindly to, and then were left with broken arms and fingers as they tried to prove of their masculinity. When they had had enough, I withdrew my weapon from their bodies and threw it back in my trunk as her eyes looked up to me with ease. Almost as if she saw me as a celestial being.

"Are you alright?" I asked as I helped her to her feet and removed the tape from her mouth. Her eyes only grew slightly more wide before nodding. It was apparent that she was in shock. Much of the time how I was when seeing her in general. But I could not let on to how weak she made me and therefore assisted her further down the street before she stopped at her front door. By now, her shock had worn off enough to converse, but I could see fear still lingered in her eyes.

"I can never thank you enough for what you did..." She said as she placed her hand atop mine. I felt something ripple through my body; like a million volts of lightning pulsing in a micro-second speed-causing goosebumps and nerves to flare like fireworks. "Please let me make you something to eat...or drink...or money-as a thank you." I could tell she was nervous as she wouldn't look me directly into the eyes, but wanted to be a good person. I smirked at the thought that there was one still out there. At least one.

"No. You shouldn't trouble yourself. I'm just glad that I could be there..." I said honestly as she pulled me into a hug as I could feel her heart racing against my chest.

"Well let me make you dinner tomorrow...I won't take no for an answer..."

I could see the determination in her eyes, but I could only stay silent as I was basking in this moment just being with her.

"It will insult me if you reject me..." She said with a genuine smirk before I nodded and the smile grew into something from a girl's doll. She gave me another set of "thank-yous" before feeling guilty of keeping me on the porch for the last half hour and reminding me of the dinner in less that twenty-four hours. I nodded before moving back to my car, looking to the ground ahead and seeing the blood on the ground from those who tried to hurt her.

Although I didn't know her name or much of anything about her, I wanted-needed to protect her. And if anybody would have the nerve to hurt her, they would become number 5.