Monster

We very well could have met before, you know. Whether it be in the line at the grocery store, or on the train ride to work, perhaps we've bumped shoulders on the street and you never thought anything of it. I smile and nod, a common exchange I've picked up on that simulates amicability and familiarity, an invisibility cloak I use to mask my own darkness. I have close friends, a loving family, people I've allowed to become familiar with the idea of the man I pretend to be. Not even they would be able to tell that the only genuine feeling of joy I experience is after butchering someone and seeing their life fleeting from their eyes, like rats from sinking ships. The process of carving into flesh, dismemberment, blood spilling and pooling. The very essense of humanity, the only semblance of emotion I've ever felt, is reflected unto me as their eyes go hollow.

I would very much like to be normal, to exchange pleasantries and laugh at jokes without my reactions being contrived, to feel something other than an unshakeable emptiness. It is very fortunate for me that people can be easy to read. It is incredibly easy to be a good person once you understand the acts that other deem to be good. I call my mother at least once a week, I buy my wife flowers occasionally, I take my son to get ice cream after school on Fridays. I've adopted these routines to try to reciprocate the love they have for me, or at least pretend to. I cannot lie and say that these connections I have are unpleasant, I'm rather greatful for these people for giving me an identity, however to say I feel anything more would be pushing the boundaries of what I am capable of.

I do experience hate. The thing I especially hate are people that I am not able to understand, whose actions fall outside the societal tendencies I've studied. People who do not smile back at me when I do, or who refuse to hold the door open for others. These people who do not partake in the niceties expected of those living in society disrupt the flow of the sea of faces I try so hard to mimic, and so I purge them whenever I can. A name of someone like this who comes to mind is Charles Wilkes, a former neighbor of mine. He furnished his lawn with decorations that were expressly prohibited by our Homeowner's Association, an act of defiance that showcased the man's inconsiderate nature. Charles Wilkes challenged the uniformity of our street, of the neat little segment of our neighborhood that contributed to the whole like cuts of beef contribute to the cow. Everything had its place, its purpose, everything allowed for me to easily understand and portray the appearance of your typical American street, and he challenged that.

Correcting this was easy, however, all it took was some initiative. I knew he'd be home alone, a recent divorcee and a retired one at that, so I waited for darkness to settle. I began by rendering him unconscious and tying him to his dining room table. Upon seeing him awake, I was able to read every emotion that was contorting his shriveled face: confusion, anger, fear. It was wonderful. I cut off his hands when he threatened to kill me if he'd gotten free, I shipped them to his ex wife along with their wedding bands the following morning. I cut off his feet so I could untie him and study his expressions as he tried to escape, however once I hit bone he passed out and went into shock. It took me some time to stop the bleeding. When he'd finally woken up again, drenched in blood and sweat, I knew it was time to end him. He was sobbing at this point, tears of sorrow and frustration, as he'd accepted the futility of his situation but could not comprehend the cause of it. I dispatched him shortly after and left his carcass for his cats to eat.

Then I went home, showered, and returned to bed alongside my loving wife. I went to work the next day and picked my son up from school. My pasttime will never get in the way of my public life, I will never let it, for it is essential for me in my quest for genuinely understanding people and connecting with them. I look just like every stranger you've ever met, I smile and nod just like anyone else you'd walk past, I hold the door open for those behind me, I conform to the rules of my Homeowner's Association, and I think it's best that you do too.