When did I start feeling this?
I think I've always felt it. I believe every human being thinks about things like that; the difference is that some cross the line from desire and put it into practice.
Even so, I'm different from those manic psychopaths. They kill people just for the pleasure of killing. They're despicable demons who take human lives for their own benefit; that is the scum of humanity. I… am different.
I want to kill, but… the one I want to kill is someone horrible too, so that makes me better than the others.
"You're different…"
Yes, I'm different, because if I'm not different, then there's no explanation. Then I'm just another ordinary monster. And I'd rather be anything than admit I'm ordinary.
I wasn't born wanting the blood of some random person. It wasn't like that. I never looked at a child on the street and felt like crushing their skull. I never took pleasure in the pain of someone who had done nothing to me.
I always hated my boss, but I never thought about killing him. I mean, who's never wanted to get rid of the boss?
He was always despicable to everyone. Once, he fired an elderly man in front of everyone, just because he was always late, since he had to take his son to physiotherapy before work.
If that isn't enough to make someone want to kill him, I really don't know what would be.
But one day, that desire was taken to the extreme, as if Azazel had planted all the wrath of hell into my head, and at that moment everything was directed at a single person.
My boss.
He had to die.
"You're only doing justice, remember that."
— This is just justice.
In front of me was a man with a square face and hair that was clearly a badly made wig. He was kneeling with a terrified expression, tears welling in his eyes. I was pointing a gun at his forehead, ready to blow his brains out.
Where am I? What am I doing? I feel as if an entire part of my memories has been erased, or as if I passed out and woke up suddenly.
What's happening?
"How can you forget what he did? He deserves something worse than death!"
"This is just justice, remember."
Now I remember.
The one kneeling before me, begging for forgiveness, is nothing but filth.
An old man as insignificant as a rat.
That man had to die.
"It's just justice at work."
— It's just justice at work.
I looked at the rat in front of me, smiled, and shifted the gun, aiming somewhere else.
Somewhere more… vulnerable.
Bang!
"Wow… you're really cruel."
— This isn't cruelty; it's just justice.
"Hehe… good boy."
The man in front of me didn't scream like a human, nor cry like one; he seemed to grunt like a frightened pig. I don't know if he truly made such an animal sound or if it was all in my head. Either way, it made more sense.
After all, a pig should squeal like a piglet, shouldn't it?
I watched him bleed for a few minutes, until he finally turned completely pale and died from blood loss. I didn't feel relieved enough; that man should have suffered more.
But what should I do to make him suffer more?
Something that would drive him even madder when he saw it from hell…
"Even a demon still values something, and you know what it is."
— What? I can't… That's too much.
In my memories, I had seen that man smile only once, when he was beside a little girl with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. In fact, that child was loved by everyone at that factory; even though her father was so hated, his daughter was so pure and gentle that everyone adored her.
— She doesn't deserve this… she's just a child.
CRACK!
— I can't do this…
"What are you talking about?"
No matter what that child's father did; she doesn't deserve to be punished for his sins. She's a different being from her progenitor.
"I don't get it…"
BANG!
— Huh?
In front of me was a little girl, no more than 7 years old, with long blonde hair and blue eyes, now lifeless. Her arm was clearly split in half, as if an elephant had stepped on it, and on her forehead there was a hole from which blood was running.
— What?
"What what?"
The voice mocked inside me, as if I were a clown who'd forgotten his own line.
My chest began to rise and fall uncontrollably. I stared at the little girl before me, trying to understand what had just happened.
— I… I didn't… — I tried to speak, but the sentence died before it was even born.
That feeling… that déjà vu, as if something like this had happened to me before.
That feeling that my mind shut off, but my body kept moving.
That voice in my head…
It isn't me…
"Damn, you took long enough to notice, huh."
— No…
What's happening?
What is this in my head?
"I'm just your rage, kid."
— What did you make me do?
"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything. I didn't put a gun to your head and force you to kill."
"I only helped you do what you've always wanted."
— No… no… I didn't want to do this… — tears began to roll down my face.
"Oh, you did. You wanted it, and you know it."
It was hard to accept, but it's true.
I wanted to kill that man and, deep down, I wanted him to suffer a lot. I probably wished to do… that to her.
But it was just an intrusive thought; anyone could think that…
— I can't do this anymore… I can't.
"And who said you can stop?"
Again my mind went blank, and a new body appeared in front of me: now it was an elderly man.
— No…
Again, a red-haired woman.
— No…
Again, a young man with a bicycle.
— No…
— Please, just stop…
"Stop what? I didn't do anything."
— Why are you using my body?
"I'm not using your body. I only removed your mental locks."
— What are you?
The voice didn't answer right away. It paused for a second and began to laugh.
"Everywhere I've lived before, they call me the Blood King."
— — —
Today, 06/30/1989, Arthur Smith, known as the Butcher of Kleinsburg, was shot dead in the early hours of this Friday during a shootout with police, after being located in a warehouse in the industrial zone.
According to authorities, Smith tried to flee when he noticed the approach of police vehicles and resisted the arrest. The suspect was taken for medical assistance, but did not survive his injuries.
Police stated that the investigation remains ongoing to confirm the total number of victims and to determine possible connections to other crimes in the region.