Pedokiller

Chapter 17

It was another day at the office and my new boss was a woman. She was nice. She wore fancy suits. I liked her as much as I could enjoy another person's presence. We talked at length sometimes. Conversations were easy with her. They weren't forced talks behind a cellphone screen. She looked me in the eyes like Megan did.

Her name was Kelly. They called her belly Kelly. She had a small stomach from having kids. Men are so ridiculous mocking a woman for giving them life. Anyway she was a beautiful person. She was benevolent. I was malevolent.

The conversations were trivial at first. We discussed the weather and television shows. As months turned to years we divulged alot of personal secrets. I kept the fact that I was a pedofile hunter to myself. No one could know that information.

She became my best friend. The professional relationship had become very personal. I assumed it was perfect for job security. I was paid well and I legitimately enjoyed work. I smiled most days. I felt strangely happy. The feeling was very foreign to me.

I understood why people laughed now. I saw the social validation of good conversation. I felt like I fit in. This was the only time I felt like this in life. With the exception of when I lived alone in the wilderness. I talked to other people. I was in my mid thirties.  I felt pathetic at this age learning social skills. The vicious child abuse did more damage to me than I could ever imagine. 

Kelly was aware of my common situation. It turns out many women had been molested in their past or abused in some way. I finally felt like I wasn't alone. I had a community of strong warrior women behind me.

I joined support groups. All of those tears and emotions were wasted on an indifferent world. No one cared about battered and raped women. They were just seen as damaged goods and liars. No one wanted to face the harsh reality of this culture. Men and women rape and beat other children, women, and men. Society turned a blind eye to most of it. Victims are too afraid to speak for fear of being killed or socially exiled.

I was the voice of women, and their bloody sword of war. I stood up for every beaten child, woman, and man.

No one deserved to be harmed or raped in any way. We were all survivors of some form of abuse whether it was verbal, sexual, or physical.  I wouldn't stand by and watch people be used and thrown away.

I would kill anyone who raped, beat, or harmed other people. We lived in a society that tolerated this behavior on a mass scale. Our society was in emotional ruins because of the silent wars people fought in their heads. I was a soldier deep in the trenches with anyone who'd been victimized.