My Kind

I know, I know. Stupid story.

Why am I writing this? Well, dear reader, to tell you of mind and my definition of paradise!

Let’s start with my so-called “back story.” Isn’t that why you’re here? To read a “back story?” Whatever. I don’t care about what you want. We all just want to be loved and feel like we matter. We just want to be understood, my kind, you know?

The kind you look down on. Not even giving us a second thought. Having pity on us “fools.” You made us like this! Don’t you know? You forced our minds to become corrupted! Trust me, calling me insane, I am saner than your kind, don’t you know!?

Well, got off track there…

Let us get to my origin. With my diary.

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June 13

Mother hit me. Again. Father hasn’t returned. I don’t know what I did to Mother to be hit, but she did it. She left a red mark the shape of her hand, too. I am going to try to sneak out tonight. To see outside. I’ve never been out there before, did you know? I see children playing with their mothers and fathers. It looks like fun. I wish I could have fun. No. I can’t think like that in this journal. Mother might see. I’ll be hit even harder then…

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June 20

Mother took my paper away. Father still isn’t here. I tried sneaking out that time… I hurt myself by falling. And Mother caught me. She hurt me too. I didn’t cry this time though. I laughed. Mother got scared of me a when I laughed at her hand. She threw me down, but I still didn’t cry. I could tell she was scared. And because she was scared, she locked me away. So here I am. Alone. In my room. No windows. Locked door.

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June 22

Father is home! Father is home! He opened my door today and let me out! He gave me food, too! I didn’t eat in a long time. The flood didn’t taste good but it did. Mother wasn’t home today. I don’t know where she went. Father said Mother has left to go somewhere. I asked where and he only told me to not ask.

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June 24

Father took me away from the bad house. I still didn’t see Mother. Father demanded to stop calling him Father, but instead call him Daddy. I like Father better though. He hit me. He tells me he thought I would cry, but like Mother, got scared when I laughed. I didn’t care. I like it when people are scared of my laugh. It makes me feel strong.

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Unknown date

Father has a new girlfriend. I lost count on how many, but they keep disappearing. Yesterday, Father got me something special. It was a knife. One with a blade bigger than my hands put together. He said it’s for “when I have girlfriends.”

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Father was right. Knives come in handy when dealing with girls. Father even shown me what to do. He taught me to be nice about it. And making the girl wait to find the release of pain.

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I tried my technique on Father. I laughed so hard as my father cried.

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Happy? Did you find out what my kind is? People call them murderers. I call them family. They understand. Some people, all people deserve what happens! Somebody must agree something is wrong with society! WITH HUMAN KIND! THE ONLY GOOD PEOPLE KILL!

 

So, I suggest, beware.

Fear people.

Doubt people.

And always have a blood lust.