A madman's diary

Demise is at hand

May 2nd

I packed up my things that I need later on. Good thing I already made a deposit for a situation like this. I took all my cash, smashed my credit cards and my phone to make sure they can't trace me down. I took my guns and knifes I had. I am officially leaving town.

May 3rd

On the road. I heard on the radio that they are looking for me. I have to be very careful with my actions.

May 6th

I had a chase. I am writing this note in my hospital room. They confiscated everything from me. I was driving down the street and all of a sudden a police car shows up and starts following me. After a solid 2 minutes it starts to flash its lights on and off and I hear the siren as well. I do not mess around either. I stepped on the pedal and I did not care who was in front of me anymore. I saw nothing of the world only a blurred image. The speed gauge was in the red zone. I knew I was caught but why not delay the inevitable a bit longer? The cops pulled next to me and ordered me to stop the vehicle at once. My reply was a couple of shots from my Beretta. Somehow after this they stayed behind a bit. They were not rest either. One of them leaned out of the car and started shooting at the chassie and more importantly at my tires. A huge bang noise let me know that his aim was precise. My rear left tire was hit by a bullet. Thankfully I could maintain full control over the car. They were very persistent. They even called for a backup. As soon as I went into an alley I thought I could catch a breath but I was terribly wrong. It was too late by the time I saw the spike strip laid down the road. All of my tires were gone and I ran into a wall. The engine is unsalvageable. The impact was too big. It got dented so badly that half of it was gone. The front lights and the windscreen were completely broken. I lost conciousness. I woke up inside the ambulance. As I opened my eyes I faced a gun pointed at my head. At first I tried to get up but something held me back, then I saw that I was handcuffed to the cart. In that moment they injected some sort of muscle relaxing reagent inside me because I became numb almost instantly. When I was at the operating theatre the detectives tried to search my house. Tried because I burned the whole thing to the ground. All they have left is only accusation, no concrete evidence. If they ask why I commited arson I just reply with the classic line: My property, I do whatever I want with it. This is a reasonable, sort of acceptable answer. It is only a house after all. Nobody got hurt in the process. I hurt only those who are guilty, never innocents.

May 7th

Shackles bound me to my bed. This is not a life. This is only misery. Let me out! I want to clean the filth from the streets, from the minds, from the very World itself! My Muse is weeping in pain, seeing her champion like this must be heartbreaking.

May 8th

The officers came in to interrogate me. Asked me about everything. Who I am, what I do for a living, am I the relative of this and this etcetra. Boring. I kept telling them that I will not say a fucking word without my lawyer, but they pretended like they did not hear my request. Typical police attitude. Wear the subject down, then force him to sign any paper we put in front of him and he will even thank us for our work. Well I am not that type of guy. I told them they can torture me, they can beat me, they can do anything to me. Nothing matters to me. I have no place to call home, my parents died a long time ago and I am just sick of life itself. I told them how corrupt the world is and how certain "citizens" should be put out of their misery. Some time later a doctor ( I assume he was) came in. He wore an elegant suit with matching tie. Reminded me of my father. He showed me a couple of photos that meant nothing to me. He reassured me that there is no bad answer to his questions. Lies. There is only a less bad answer. I do not remember how but after an hour he ran out of pictures and started asking me about my childhood. I told him my earliest memory is when I was around three years old and I was playing with the pyrotechnics in the garden around New Year's Eve. He seemed pleased with my answer. He got up from the chair, said goodbye and left. I have a very strange feeling. Half of me wants to believe this man but my other side of me urges me not to be careless. I seriously do not know what I should do.

May 9th

I am getting executed. This will be my final entry. I had a pretty good life even though it was not necessarily a long one. Most of the times I was glad with the outcomes of my decisions but not the latest ones. I regret them. Not because what I did was wrong but how I acted. I feel I could have done better. I failed you my dear, beloved Muse. I disappointed you and thus you ordered my death. I have no objections. It is as it should be. I know you did not ask for much, but I managed to let you down. My offerings were shallow and mediocre. The good thing  in the military is that you know how to kill with anything. Literally. I take this pencil, put it on the bedside table beside me, and with one quick move I slam my temple right on top of it. To anyone who finds my notes: kiss my ass.