This idea that I know A feeling of understanding Confusion wrapped up in life I want to say more But I don’t know the words All I have is nothing at all A thought, a memory Of something I remember living The sadness has become more of a condition To the sentence I’ve been served Self pity, depression of the facts Born like this, didn’t become this Sell my soul to be someone else Sell myself to be something else Gave up before I knew what I had done Poisoned myself with the thoughts Forgot all the words before this began Eating the thoughts with a fork and spoon Dug the knife into my side Laying around wondering What is it that I have done
“My people have been running from the devil since before it was cool.”
This may be the only time Sitting in the darkness wondering why All of this shit that ever mattered was a lie Constantly speaking to the deaf and the blind Preaching about the things that don’t add up Is this really what we are doing with our lives Giving it all for more of nothing Speaking in tongues that only we understand An understanding built on lack of sleep Hush and everything will be alright So much truth in lies So many lies buried in the truth Giving in over time Becoming more than they wanted Descending into a place no one understands Locked within my head
The scary part is that people are relying on me…
Digging a hole in the sand Three feet wide was the plan Digging deeper with so much effort Going nowhere, can’t see the problem Can’t see the problem Can’t see any problem at all
What… No horror story?… honestly couldn’t come up with anything more terrifying than the idea that I won’t be back until January…
That’s right… it is that time again… really hope that you have enjoyed these last few months… the stories… the Broken Thoughts… and the rambling… enough about looking back… it is time to go out and get some candy… never too old for free shit…
Pro tip… Take a kid… people ask way fewer questions… Outside of who’s kid is this and what not… unless you already have your own… then you are playing the game on God Mode…
In the mean time enjoy this video… while I figure out what to do with it…
More to come… hopefully… not sure I needed to add more shit to my plate… but fuck it… crazy train is rolling out of the station… good night… and good luck… Hope all is well… I’m out to fucking lunch… see you all in January…
Hope you missed me because I’m back… Year 3… begins today… the format will be different… after last years ass kicker of a schedule… things are changing all around really… still working on my novel… still writing… think I have just been sitting around?… who the fuck do you think I am?… I always have a plate of glass ready to go… hungry as fuck… don’t believe me?…
That my friends… is the stack… the stack of stuff I have been working on… working through… and the crazy part is that… that isn’t even all of it… I have files on my phone… on my computer… that I still have to print out… I’ve got plans for this year… ideas I want to get out… and unlike last year… I know that I will… little by little I will get it done…
First step in not repeating last year… I changed the schedule to reduce burn out and pressure… besides my whole life going to shit… that was the biggest thing I struggled with last year… burn out plus depression do not mix… because I will just do nothing… and pile on that pressure… not a good combination… for me… or anyone really… so to take that out of the equation and to provide better content in general… I went down to two days of the week… Monday and Thursday… we all have lives that we need to live… I get that now after two years…
I also have decided to do what we just experienced… a break from time to time… there is a reason that your favorite show doesn’t play a new episode every day… or every week… so every three months there will be a two month break… I know I just showed you a stack of shit I have waiting to be read… I know two months seems like forever… but we made it through this last few months… hopefully… so it will be okay…
Which brings me to the next topic I want to rant about… some of that work in the picture is actually my novel and a few other books I have been sitting on for years… don’t expect a flood of shit from me… but I do have some plans coming up… stay tuned for more information… so that is a big reason for the new format… I want to focus more energy on that… or those… or whatever… Because I have decided to give up on finding a publisher…
I’ve been sitting far too long on ideas… books… stories…and thoughts that I want to share… in hopes that one day I will get picked up by a publisher… for better or worse… fuck it… I’m not getting any younger… I don’t want to sit here and hope anymore that doing it the “right” way will lead to something… my heroes… your heroes… didn’t just sit there hoping… they made it happen… that is why they are our heroes… so… if I have to do it all myself… then so be it… worse case they won’t buy any of the books that I published on my own… they aren’t buying them now… getting to a point in my life where win/lose is no longer how it is… it is all just lose from here…
So that is where you come in… well you have always been here… but that is where I need you… buying books… t-shirts… anything is… thank you… but if you really want to help me.. big picture help me… follow me on twitter… leave reviews… tell others… click links…(Working on a few other things as well…) any amount of extra traffic helps… it may seem pointless and useless… but it really does help… and I thank you very much for all the help that you bring to this website… to me…
I know that shit got weird last year… I wanted so much more out of last year… I failed at a lot of things I wanted to accomplish… professionally and personally… it was a hard year… one that I hope I never have to live again… but I thank you for sticking around… for liking… for commenting… for believing in me… it is easy to get caught up in everything… life is a shit storm of events… situations… thoughts… feelings… and I want you to know that I appreciate every second that you have taken out of your busy lives to visit this website… I know I go on selfish rants about my thoughts… feelings… but I think about all of you and all that you do… every day… even if I don’t say it… even when I get caught up in my own shit… I think a lot about each and everyone of you… Thank you…
Welcome to year three…
(Block editing or whatever WordPress is calling this shit still sucks…)
I like to keep my things in jars. I have many jars all
around my room. I used to as a child go out in the woods behind my house and
collected bugs. I had so many in my collection. Water bugs, butterflies,
lightning bugs, and all sorts of beetles. I used to watch them crawl or fly
around their jars. Each one or type I guess had their own jar to call their
own. Little worlds that they could live in. Live in until they died. They
always died. Why did they always die on me? Everything always dies on me.
Mother, sister, and the bugs. I used to label them and everything. It would drive my mother crazy. All the jars
filled with dead bugs under my bed. I couldn’t stop collecting them though. No
matter how many died or how upset my mother got.
Growing older I became more and more fascinated with the bugs
I kept in my jars. Though I never had the passion to really understand what it
was that I was collecting. I wasn’t book smart my mother used to say. I just
liked the way they looked in their jars. One day while exploring in the woods I
heard this odd noise cut through the singing birds. It sounded like nothing I
had ever heard in the woods before. It sounded as though a small child was crying.
Was my sister lost in the woods? Over and over I heard the noise. The closer I
got the louder the noise became. I knew I was on the right path. Frantically I
searched for the noise until I came across a small deer. Not quite a baby but
not yet an adult. It was just there lying in the open grass between some trees.
It saw me before I saw it, but it kept crying. Figured it would run away when I
got close enough and between me and you it tried, but the little deer had
broken its leg. As I got closer it struggled to get away. Dragging the broken
leg behind it. Leaving a trail of blood. I had never seen so much blood before.
It looked so odd, so out of place amongst the green of the grass. I got so
close to the deer that I could reach out and touch it. The cry it was making
was so loud by then. The sound was almost unbearable. I studied the hurt animal
as it tried to get away. I watched it for so long that after a while I couldn’t
even hear the sound it was making. I couldn’t hear anything.
It must have grown tired because after some time the deer stopped trying to get away. It laid its head down in the grass, its mouth moving, and its chest moving up and down rapidly. Cried and cried as I watched. In that moment in time it was only me and it in the whole world. The deer’s rapid breathes become slow and shallow breathes. We locked eyes for what felt like a life time. I placed my right hand on the back of its head and it went silent. Silent like it knew what was going to happen next. I tried to make it quick. Grabbing the top of its muzzle with my left hand I gave it everything my little body had a twist. Its neck snapped. I know I heard it or maybe I only felt it, but it wasn’t enough. Its body flopped around in the grass as I tried to hang onto its head. I tried twisting its head again, but it just kept shaking my hand lose. I could barely keep a hold of the deer. So I jumped onto its back like anyone would I suppose and tried to wrestle it still. It was all happening so fast until everything seemed to stop around me. I was so frustrated, so angry that I lost control of everything. I seemed to have gone to another place within myself. By the time I came back to reality there I was holding this deer’s head in my hands. I no longer cared about bugs. Not when there was so many things out in the woods that needed my help and attention. I find that people are much the same as that deer or the birds or the rabbits of the world. They all need my help and attention.
“Try again. Sound out the words,” his mother says holding
back her frustration. “I know it can be difficult to read, but you have to
learn.” She rubs the top of his head. The little boy looks over the page
studying the images first and then the words. “The boy ex, escaped through the
fa, fa,” he stops as a hand smacks him hard against his head. “Fire you dumb
shit. It says fire,” his father barks. “Damn it James he was only trying to
sound out the word,” his mother pleads. “Stupid doesn’t know how to read fire?”
His father asks before taking another drink. “I ain’t raising no dumb illiterate
asshole in this house. He ain’t going to add up to shit any way, but if he can’t
read? Be even more worthless than he already is. Can’t be slow, fat, and
stupid,” his father argues. “You are one to speak. You can barely,” his mother
doesn’t finish the sentence as his father raises his hand. Tears begin to form
in the boy’s eyes. “That’s right woman. Know your place,” his father says
before finishing off his drink. The boy fights the urge to cry. He knows better
than to show weakness. Fights even harder to not let his father see. “Are you
crying?” His father asks. The boy tries even harder to make the emotions stop
by looking down away from his father. His father grabs him by the back of the
neck, “Those look like tears to me. I asked you a question. Are you crying?”
Tears fall from the boy’s eyes. “No,” the boy yells. His father’s eyes light
up. The spark that he needed. “James don’t. He didn’t mean it,” his mother
pleads. “Bitch unless you want to be taught a lesson yourself I suggest you
shut the fuck up and get me another drink.” His mother walks out of the room as
the hand around his neck squeezes to the point he can barely breathe. “You don’t
talk to me like that you little shit. Even got your mother acting stupid. Must
be some kind of sickness going around here. Best to stomp this sickness right
out before it spreads any further.”
James drags his son by the neck out of the room and down the
basement stairs, “First you can’t even read. Now all of a sudden you the big
man with the balls to talk to your father like that. You want to cry like a
baby? We don’t cry in this family. You want to be a man? Act like one.” James
throws his son against the cage across from the basement stairs. The boy’s body
lands against the cage with a loud crash. Grabbing his side the boy cries
harder as he lay against the dirt floor. “Get in the cage,” his father orders.
Kicking the child in the back, “I said get in the cage. What are you deaf and
dumb now? Don’t act like you don’t know what is happening.” The boy shakes in
fear as he enters the cage. The cage door slams hard behind him as he falls to
the dirty floor of the cage. Torn up bits of clothing and old rotten food surround
him as he fights the pain in his side. Fights to breathe. Fight the urge to
scream. He can no longer take it as he hears the familiar sound of his father
picking up the old iron rod. He wails in pain and frustration as he knows what
“Strip,” his father orders. “I don’t want to,” the boy expels in broken words and snot. “Sorry what was that?” His father mocks. Striking the side of the cage with the iron rod, “Don’t you make me ask twice? No use in fucking up your clothes over your stupidity, but don’t think I won’t.” His father walks over to the furnace and opens the door. The boy does as he was told. The fire burning inside lights up the room. His father places the end of the rod in the fire before asking, “Are you sorry?” Too afraid to move, too afraid to see the boy lays there. “Are you or are you not sorry?” His father asks. “Yes,” the boy shouts. “I want to hear you say it,” his father demands. The iron rod heats up. The boy sits up and grabbing the side of the cage, “I’m sorry father.” His father stands there with his back facing him. Doesn’t even bother to look him. Only stares at the end of the iron bar in the fire,” I don’t believe you.”
“So this pattern of abuse went on for years?” The doctor asks. The young man nods to the question. “Why not report it to anyone?” The doctor asks. “To who?” He asks right back. Writing some notes down the doctor studies the young man’s body language. “Tell me Steven did it feel good doing what you did? Getting your revenge? Was it worth it?” The Doctor asks. “No, not really. It wasn’t worth it. I didn’t enjoy it the way that he did,” Steven says. “Odd because I don’t believe you,” the doctor smiles. Steven smiles back. “It did feel good shoving that hot iron rod right up his ass. Should have heard the way he screamed. The way he cried like a little baby until his last breathe. I didn’t enjoy the beginning but the end? It was too bad that it couldn’t have happened sooner. But we all learn a lesson in the end I suppose,” Steven rubs the scars on his side over his hospital gown.
Broken hearted, lost in thought, a dreamer This world is not what I thought it was Seeing through the mystery Searching through the fog that surrounds me Dark cloud, casted shadow, shallow grave Three feet in and all ready to begin Working my way deeper The abyss was never staring back at me Always surrounding me The walls of my prison The home I’ve always known Where to escape when there is nowhere to go Questioning your line of questioning Scratching at the walls, tearing flesh from bone, hand of broken nails Heard it all before Stolen ideas taken as my own Programmable program, humanity spreads like a virus No longer do I want to be part of your hived mind bull shit Fitting in is nothing I ever wanted So why does it feel, feel as though I failed When we all know I have yet to begin
The images play out in my head A vision of something better This could all be So much better This could all be So much more Ignorance inherit Value stupidity Gave up so I could let you in Hate myself but I blame them This could all be So much better This could be So much more My thoughts inherit Value selfishness Allergic reaction to everything you are A nightly ritual passed down This could all be So much better This could all be So much more Harder on myself than I could ever be on you A confession of honesty I miss the days where I could say These things to your face Lonely and it’s crazy Because this could all be So much better This could always have been So much more
A return to poems… I have been saving a lot of them for submissions… hints the over abundance of Broken Thoughts… though to be fair to myself… I have a lot more Broken Thoughts… Than poems… These two were actually written last year… Last summer… Yeah I sat them for a minute… I decided to group these two together because they have an off kilter approach to the idea presented… basically they start off as one thing and end as another… pretty much where I was last year…
Were they my best ever?… probably not… at least I hope not… no matter how great something is… I want to get better… I think that is important to every day life… I accept compliments very poorly… because I want to be better… negativity hurts… feels like shit honestly… but they have always driven me to want more… hit too many times with a shovel?… maybe… or maybe it is just human nature… no one vividly remembers the time they one that award… or got that A… but you remember that time some asshole told you would be nothing… getting that F… the fear of explaining your failure to someone else…
Of course I do too… and there is only so much abuse that we can take… but if anything was “special” about me… and we are stressing special beyond its meaning here… is my ability to take all the shit thrown at me and use it to fire up my engines… yeah I’m a machine in this scenario… an old ass model… but it still works the same for the most part… haha… anyway what I mean is… people are going to give you shit… you will fail… but embrace it… fear it… but know that it is the only way to get better… don’t let it get you down… if you really want it… then it is all worth fighting for…
“Why did it have to happen this way? Why did any of it have to happen this way?” I ask the steering wheel. “Could have been so much more. Something more than an orderly at a loony bin.” I tighten my hands around the steering wheel. Tighter and tighter, “You do it for her. You do everything for her. Remember that. We all have a price to pay. You do it it for her.” Tighter until my hands feel as if they are going to snap. “For her,” I say before letting go of the wheel.
I gather my things and take out one more cigarette out. Placing it too my lips I exit the car. It isn’t much to look at from the outside and it isn’t much better inside. A passer by, someone who doesn’t have to be here every day would think it was something. Sometimes I try to think it isn’t what it is. I tell her that it’s a castle. That was a mistake. No princesses in her. No god damn gold either. Only think to be found behind these walls is horror. Could have done more with myself had I focused. The thought depresses me. Most of my thoughts depress me as of late.
Odd how life turns out I think as I finish my cigarette and stomp it out. School seemed like such a waste of time. Now that she goes. I push her to take it seriously, but I can tell in her eyes. She already knows better. So smart. Need to stomp that out. Too afraid to push her away. So afraid to do what my old man did. Trying to fight something that I know all to well. Wonder if my father ever had that thought? Did what he did for a reason I guess. “Good morning Frank,” one of the nurses says to me as I enter the building. A smile washes over my face, “Good morning.” She smiles back at me, ” Have a great day.” I don’t say anything. I don’t have time for this. Always something to be done. No time for friends. Just want to get out of here already.
We are all like this place, falling apart. Even more so if actually want to help these monsters. Damn place isn’t worth the check. Check is all I need. Twelve hours of shit and then it all goes away for a time. Creeping back in as it always does. “For her,” I whisper under my breath. More greetings and niceties. More bull shit to shovel on top of the other shit. We pretend so well we might as be just as crazy as them. But we do as we are told so we are sane. That asshole doctor walking around here is the worst. No one is as good at pretending as him. Maybe maintenance. The thought brings an actual smile to my face. I’m not even sure I’ve ever seen them fix a damn thing around here. I light up another cigarette as my supervisor explains the goals for the day.
Drag after drag my brain shuts off. Same shit every day. Try to survive. I want to do something new. Something different, but all jobs are the same. They’ve all been the same. Only the uniform has changed. Should have listened after the war. Should have done something with myself. That’s the problem though isn’t it? I never listen. I need to do what I want to do. Almost got me killed then and now look at me. No one asked but I had dreams. I’m sure we all do. Before the war, before everything in my life really happened. I used to love to write. Tell myself stories with the toys I had. Dream of amazing landscapes filled with even more amazing characters. Fill the paper with all my ideas. Until my father found them. Told me to get my head out of the clouds. Told me with his hands. Do some real work. The one time I shouldn’t have listened. She loves my stories but that is all that they are, stories. Looking into their eyes. I’m sure even the crazy ones dream too.
They wander the halls. Some of them so out of it they walk right into the walls. Those are the ones to watch. They become frustrated by their inability to go where they want to go. Throwing themselves into the wall head first over and over again. It won’t do anything to them, but “We are here to look after them.” They are so far gone they don’t even feel the pain. Watched one snap their own nose. They are so out of it they don’t even notice the blood in their eyes. What are they giving them that they don’t even notice the blood in their eyes? They all have to be watched I remind myself. They are all matches waiting for a strike. One day this place will go off. How I pray that I am not here the day it does. None of it matters though. All of this is just another day that I’m slowly dying inside. The shift starts and all I can think about is that I do this for her. She will be better. She will be more than I was. Traded in my dreams and out she came. Somethings are bigger than ourselves. Somethings are worth sacrificing ourselves for.
Scratching the walls with my nails. I want more. Another day
or another night. I can’t resist the temptation of the kill. They said it would
go away. It hasn’t. They said over time things would become normal. They haven’t.
Everything they said never came true. Staring into the darkness around my bed.
Dancing figures in my head. I want to kill now more than ever. Drinking a
little bit more and think about something else. The thought won’t go away. What’s
the difference if I do it for my country or for myself? Pacing again. Over and
over with no place to go. I see them all outside my window. Staring back at me.
Waiting. Always waiting. Becoming something more than myself. Twenty kills,
thirty kills, they took more of me than I could ever give away. I can give it
back. I know how. Ten inches made of steel. Sharped to a point. Carve them up.
Take piece by piece until nothing is left. They will never know. Scatter the
pieces. Too hard to find. Too hard to prove. The feelings will subside then. Take
what I’m owed. I have all the reason to do what I want. Earned my place amongst
them. What’s the difference?
Scratching at the walls with my knife. I know the reason but
I can’t bring myself to the cause. I’m not weak. I’m not too weak to do what I
need to do. Fuck you, I’m not scared. I can do it. I know I can because I have.
Over there I did whatever they told me. What needed to be done. Their eyes
burned into my mind. Life slowly draining. The relief of living another day surging
inside of me. I am safe. I don’t need to do this. There is no reason to kill
again. The power is fleeting. Underrated as they laugh. I hear them laughing.
Look at the hero with nothing. In the shadows I watch. Pissing it all away. No
more wars to fight. No more battles to be won. Cutting out their tongues. Their eyes looking back at me. Like before.
Before when no one laughed. Everything is so meaning less standing in place. I
need a purpose. I know my purpose. I have no purpose. Take the blade to myself.
End this suffering. Take away this pain digging in my head. No, I am not weak.
I am not weak.
She scratches at the walls with her nails. They never did this before. Always fought back. Not the same. Fight me I shout at her. Nothing, weak, useless she cries. Kick her in the side again. One life to live. This is how you choose to leave it. Knife pressed against her throat. Noises and no words. Aren’t they all the same? Weak. Take her apart piece by piece. Going to need rope. She won’t sit still. Won’t fight. Barely a struggle. Just the tip. Let her know how it feels. Should have gotten a male. Spit in her face. Drag the tip across her skin. Arm swings. That’s what I need. Give me more I whisper into her ear. She shakes in fear. Hand around her throat. Enough playing. Go for the kill. My brain explodes. She goes quiet. Hacking away more and more. Take everything spread it around. Wear her blood on my skin. A war paint I don’t want to erase. Do you feel that? How does it feel? It went away. A calm wave washing over me. Peace at last. Peace at last.
need you go speak with Stephanie. She still hasn’t got out of bed. It has been
almost three days,” the nurse tells him. I don’t look up from my desk. My pen digs deeper into the chart I’m working
on. The nurse holds on to my office door to afraid to fully enter,
“Doctor, did you hear me?” Pushing the pen the tip deeper into the chart.
“Is there anything else?” I asks looking up to her with a fake smile.
“No, I guess not,” she answers before closing the door and
disappearing. The pen tip snaps spilling ink all over the chart, “What
could the little psychopath possibly be up to now?”
I enter Stephanie’s room and the first thing to hit me is
the smell. The smell of three day old shit and piss. Jesus Christ does no one
do their job around here? Doesn’t matter I think as I rub my forehead in
frustration. Lighting up a cigarette to try and mask the smell I fight the need
to vomit. “Stephanie may I have a moment of your time?” I ask in the fakest
version of myself I can. She only sits there on her bed with her knees to her
chest staring at me. “The silent treatment for me as well. That’s fine I suppose.
It won’t help you I’m afraid,” I take another step into the room. Her eyes burn
with a furry. All of their eyes have this look. A look none of my medical books
have ever been able to explain. The two orderlies I brought with me wait a few
steps behind me. I can hear them as they try not to breathe. Unfortunately that
isn’t much of an option at the moment.
“Heard it has been over three days since you’ve attempted to get up. Moving around is good for your mind you know? A little outdoor time. Maybe some sun would make you feel better?” Still nothing only her burning eyes. “I also heard you are refusing to eat for the nurses but I see you have some of the plates there in your bed. That is good. That is positive. What isn’t so positive and judging by the smell in this room I have to believe is true? Is that you have been pissing and defecating the bed again. We’ve talked about this Stephanie. We can’t have you doing this. It isn’t healthy or sanitary. To be quite frank it isn’t really fair to the staff. That is beyond the point though. Stephanie you need to get out of bed.” My anger begins to rise as I stomp out my cigarette and light another one. Her eyes burning. Their eyes so dark. Sometimes I just want to grab them by the throat and watch the flames slowly smolder out. No, push it down. You are here to help them.
“Stephanie you need to get out of bed now,” I inform her unsympathetically.
“Bring her back,” she screams at me. My ears ringing I fight the urge to scream
along with her, “She doesn’t exist. We have been over this.” The fire rages in
her eyes, “Bring her back.” Bits of dried shit fall off her arms as she
screams. “She doesn’t exist therefore we can’t bring her back. We have been
over this. You need to understand this Stephanie,” I shout threw her screams. “She
does exist and you took her away from me,” her whole body shakes with every
word. The orderlies rush to my side but I signal them to stay back. I can feel
my own frustration and my own anger fighting to release itself. “Enough of this
screaming Stephanie,” I say with a stern voice. “There is no reason to scream
at me. I promise you we never took her away because she is not real.” She
shakes her head no causing more dried shit to fall off her body. “You are a
liar. You took her just to make me unhappy. Just to make me suffer. You are
just like them. Just like everyone else,” she throws herself into her pillows.
I take a step closer, “Now why on earth would I do something like that? I’m here to help you get better. You are here to get better. So let me help you. Let us help you get there. Let’s get out of the bed and get you cleaned up.” Her face still buried in her shit covered pillow, “Not until you bring her back to me.” Standing just out of arms reach of her the smell is becoming too much to bare. “Stephanie this is no way to live. We need to get you out of this bed,” I say as calmly as one can in this situation. Staring at her I wonder where everything went wrong. How could such a beautiful girl turn into such a mess? If this were another life or if things had worked out differently I would have been staring at her up on a screen. Not in a room with her shit smeared on the walls. This world can be too much to take at times. Before I even have time to react. Stephanie springs from her bed and tackles me to the floor. With her hands around my throat she begins to scream, “Bring her back.”
Despite her small frame she has a strength I don’t understand. The two orderlies fight to get her off of me, but with every ounce of effort her hands grip tighter to my throat. Her screaming fills the tiny room with so much noise. My ears ring as I try to fight her. I try to find a place on her body that isn’t covered in shit as my hands slide off her skin. I just want to help them. I can’t understand what is happening. That’s all I ever wanted to do. But right now I just want to kill her. Gouge out her little eyes and watch her scream in pain. So disoriented as all my sense become over stimulated confusion sets in. A nurse runs into the room and injects her with a syringe of diazepam. She fights the effects as I fight for air. Fight the urge to not kill the life from her. I feel the strength leave her hands and her weight off my chest. Inhaling deeply the smell of the room takes over as I vomit on to the floor. Staring into my own pool of vomit. I am left wondering why is it that any of this needs to exist.
“I’m not feeling particularly violent today. I mean no one
was asking me to be. I just don’t feel it. Some days I can really feel it,” she
says with a smile. The smile washes away from her face, “But not today. No,
today I feel rather joyous and a bit vain. Callus is the word? No that is
something that happens to the skin. What is the word that I am trying to say?”
A silence fills the room as she stares at the wall. “Hey, do you want to know
something else about skin? Do you know what happens when direct heat is
applied? You know like fire.” Again she stares as she waits for an answer as
she waves butane torch in her hand wildly. “Stumped you huh? Well silly it
doesn’t just turn black. You know like with raw meat. No the skin bubbles
first. Bubbles and bubbles until the water trapped inside causes the epidermis
to explode.” She begins to laugh hysterically at the screams of her victim.
“Do you still think?” She screams into the victims face. “Do
you think?” She asked calmly as she grabs the victim’s hair. She takes the long
flowing hair and wraps it around her knuckles. She pulls the hair tight and
raises it above the girl’s head. “Do you think that the same thing will happen
with hair? Should we test my theory? Because I think. Well honestly I have no
idea what will happen. Do you?” She asks curiously. “Better yet,” she pulls the
handful of hair to the point of breaking, “Do you think that if I make you as
ugly as me. You’d want me then?” She presses her scared face into the other
girl’s face. Butane torch burning in the other hand. A look comes across her
face as she stares into the other girl’s eyes, “Yeah bitch I didn’t get these
scars sucking dick. I earned them. So let’s ask ourselves this simple question.
Do you think you could ever walk in my shoes for a day? One day. That’s all.”
She looks down at the victims shoes, “Because let’s face it those pumps look
amazing. What size are they anyway?”
She turns the fuel knob on the butane torch to off and
places it down on the carpeted floor. The girl only whimpers as tears flow down
her face. “Tell me are they Capezio? Is that still even a thing? Fashion really
isn’t my thing. I’m more or less into other things. Don’t get me wrong though.
I like to learn.” She walks over to the dresser and picks something up. Slowly
pacing back over to the girl holding something behind her back, “Do you mind if
I take a look at them? You know up close? I promise I won’t hurt them.” In one
rapid motion she lunges at the girl’s right foot with a hatchet in hand.
Swinging the hatchet at the girls shin. Slightly above the ankle. Over and over
again with everything she has the hatchet connects to flesh and bone. The room
fills with the sound of screaming, laughter, and hacked away flesh. Her face
sprayed with blood at every hack. Wave after wave of blood. The victim flails
her leg in pain the best she can against the restraints. The victim’s whole
body begins to convulse until it doesn’t.
She sits crossed legged on the floor staring at what is left of the girl’s foot. “Really don’t think these are so great after all. You know with all the blood on them and everything. Hey, are you still with me princess?” She asks her. She taps the girls left leg with the side of the hatchet. “I’m talking to you.” She slams the hatchet blade side down into the victim’s right thigh. The hatchet stands in place as she slaps the girl over and over, ‘I said that I’m talking to you.” She screams words of nothing with everything she has into the girl’s face. “That bitch is dead.” Sad she tosses the hacked off foot behind her. It lands on the bed with a soft thud as it bounces into the pillows. “We were just starting to have fun.” She says with a pouted face. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that. Stupid, stupid,” she hits herself on the side of the head over and over. Rubbing her knuckles against the scars. The smell of smoke slowly fills the room. She looks around confused until she sees the knocked over torch. Watching the trail of fire as it spreads to the bed. “Well fuck, Father isn’t going to like this.” Random limbs hang from the ceiling as the fire takes everything.