Wednesday, January 22, 2014
He had a malevolent nature; at least, that’s what he had been told. Yet, he was also told it was not his fault. After all, he had witnessed the murder of his mother at the impressionable age of three. When the police found him he had been sitting in a pool of blood; his mother’s blood, her dismembered parts all around.
That tragic event didn’t go unscathed; it left a mark and molded him into what he was today. A killer. A killer who loved the thrill of the hunt and the sensation of blood spattering helter-skelter and landing on his skin. Yet his quaint and innocent demeanor belied his true nature; except to the one who found his friendly act repulsive without really knowing why. It was just a gut feeling on his part. But he wasn’t interested in him or in those others that loved him and thought themselves his friends; his personality didn’t feed itself on social gratification and connection, yet he knew that that mask is what allowed him his freedom to kill.
No, his pleasure didn’t come in the form of friends but from someplace else. It came from probing the minds of the criminally insane, like him, of those that liked to kill, like him. It was them that were his prey. He researched their lives looking over the landscape of the horrors and pain they left in their wake and before one more innocent could be called their trophy, he killed them. With pleasure.
Yes, he killed. But he was not like them. After all, he had The Code. Never for senseless need or want. Instead, his violent nature would find fulfillment in ridding the world of murderers that got off on hurting the innocent, just for fun. No, he was not like them at all. He was different - harmless on the outside; but evil inside. He was the perfect psychopath.
Posted by rebecca