Bordering on Insanity

Bordering on Insanity

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Dec 15, 2020
Insanity. What is it? Someone once said insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. But I don't care. I do the same thing over and over again, but I expect the same results. The same words that come out of a person's mouth, the same desperate look in their eyes, the same way they cower before me. Stories are told about what I do. Some say I torture poor, innocent souls; others say I kill people purely for my own enjoyment. They are completely right. I love the thrill of pushing my knife against people's throats and seeing the life slowly leaving their eyes. I never expected any different. Until him.
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'The night was alive with silence. I moved through it like a shadow, black leather gloves tight on my hands, boots soft against the grass. My gas mask hid my face, leaving only darkness where my eyes should be. The world narrowed to a single point: the house ahead. Tonight, it would belong to me. The farmhouse rose stark and white beneath the moonlight, silent except for the occasional grunt of a pig or the low hum of a cow. They were unaware. They were insignificant. I crouched behind the hedge, eyes scanning, senses alert. Every detail mattered: the flicker of light across the curtains, the faint rustle of movement inside, the way a shadow shifted across the floor. She was there. Oblivious. Popcorn in hand, murmuring to herself as the television flickered. Every motion was a note in tonight's symphony, and I was the conductor. I studied her, cataloging. Timing. Patterns. Fear. She didn't notice me yet, and that was perfect. Patience was everything. One sound, one misstep, and it could all unravel. I rang the doorbell once. Silence. Again. Still nothing. She flinched slightly, just enough to make my pulse quicken. Her small reaction was delicious. A sudden movement in the yard caught my eye-a neighbor's dog barking at some unseen intruder. Its voice was loud, startling, but contained. I froze. My breath slowed. Patience. Observation. The dog's curiosity would pass. I remained still, hidden in shadow, letting the moment stretch. The animal lost interest and padded away. Perfect. I moved to the back of the house, hammer in hand.' ...

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