25 Bodies <3 Brielle

Prologue

To whom it may concern:

If you are reading this, I have been found. I write this in a hurry with blood on my hands. It is my only wish that my entire story be told correctly when my journey comes to an end.

Let me formally introduce myself. My name is Brielle Renea Lyfe, and I am 18 years old. As of now the authorities label me fugitive as they hunt me down to charge me with the first degree murders of my mother and my step father. However I'd be  damned if I have the word murderer accompany my name without getting credit for all I have done.

THIS IS MY CONFESSION.

Between 2008, when I was 12 years old and this year when this journal is found, the total number of human beings I am responsible for murdering will total twenty-five. I am not a pretty young girl who just snapped. I am a murderer. A serial killer to be exact.

    Another thing you should know is that I would be happy if you didnt use this journal as a tool for any FBI profiling bullshit. I am not crazy nor do I have any form or mental illness or personality disorder. Don't try to come up with some BS excuse for me killing because I'm going to tell you now. I kill because I enjoy it. I find pleasure in hearing the last breath leave an undeserving body. I do not kill the innocent, no one is truly innocent. The ones I killed did not deserve to live, and Karma was not working fast enough for me. So I took it into my own hands.

   Ive been killing since I was six. The first murder I committed was  my cat. We called her Midnight. She was mean and black and just not a good pet. I was a toddler all I wanted to do was play, but that damn cat wouldnt play with me. Everyday when I went to it ran and hid. One day I caught it and it scratched my face. Crying I ran to my mother bleeding and she said "Hija you look terrible, so feo! What happened?"

   What pissed me off about my mother is that she is fully Puerto Rican and beautiful, and as a professional photographer, all she cared about was beauty. Im half african american and ever since my grandmother told my mother off about "diluting the race" she tried to make me look as hispanic as possible straightening my hair to damage and putting full makeup all over my body. If she wasn't making me look more like her my nanny, Julia, was watching me. If Julia was off I had to care for myself. One day my mother had put the juice too high so I went to drink any liquid I could find, and I happened to find bleach first. I was lucky my mother was as thirsty as me. She was so terrified when she saw her 5 year old green eyed, long haired beauty sitting on the floor about to drink herself to death. "Hija!" She screamed, "Dont, you could die! You would go to sleep and leave your mommy forever." She sobbed and held me and from that day forward she made sure I had enough to drink.

   When the cat scratched me and my mother only saw a scar on my face I wanted the cat to go away. Everyday for a week put a capfull of bleach in the cat's water, and one day she never woke.My mother bought another cat and I did the same thing. After cats she bought bird, then gerbils, then rabbits, then guinea pigs. I killed them all by the time I was 11 she decided we didnt need any pets, but what she failed to realize was that a killer was already born.