Diary of a Killer 1, Side-story, Curse of the mad wolf.

<<WARNING: I hated writing this and it contains cruelty towards animals.>>

<<Why did I do it, you ask? Because I had to do it.>>

I’m scared. The more I see them, the more scared I get. Ever since I was just a little girl, I heard other kids call birds, dogs, cats, and other animals beautiful, cute, funny, and so on.

How could I be so different? Why whenever I look at them this is not the first thought that pops into my head?

A few days ago I saw a dog run over by a carriage. A shiver ran past my back and I finally thought, it is indeed beautiful. 

But why?

Why did my thoughts still felt wrong? 

I knew I shouldn’t think that, but I couldn’t. To me, probably the only person in there, it looked beautiful.

An urge to see more of it appeared inside my soul. An urge that I couldn't control.

…

That’s why I’m here right now, hiding in this dark alley, looking at that cat passing by and hesitating in my desire to call up to it.

The further it got from me, the harder the voices inside my head yelled at me.

Call it closer.

Kill it.

Strangle it with your own hands.

My lips trembled as I couldn’t control my body anymore and softly whispered: “Here, kitty, kitty.”

The cat stopped and turned around before walking toward the alley I was hiding in.

I could feel my breathing getting rougher the closer it got to me.

A feeling of excitement and anticipation was bubbling inside me.

Eventually, it came to me, as I stood there frozen, and rubbed its head against my outstretched hand before making a purring sound.

I picked it up with my small trembling hand and brought it in front of my face. Under the dim light of the city lamps, I could a blurry reflection of my face in the cat’s shining eyes.

I was smiling, a smile that scared me and would send shivers down the backs of everyone else that saw it.

That’s why I’m scared. I knew it was wrong; I was terrified of my excitement, but I still moved my other hand to grab onto its neck. With my eyes still wide open, I twisted it.

*Snap*

It was a dull noise, even somewhat muted in the silent night, but as the light faded from the cat’s eyes, a sudden euphoria washed over my soul.

The voices fell silent, and for the first time since I can remember, there was no one yelling in my head.

The urges were also gone, but as I looked at the dead cat’s body in my hands, a deep horror gripped my soul, taking away all the euphoria from earlier.

Throwing the proof of my crime to the ground, I ran home as fast as I could.

What have I done?

It isn’t me.

It was the voices.

…

I kept telling things to myself as I ran the air out of my lungs while heading home. I quickly opened the main door and run up to my and my sister’s room, but as I was about to open the door and step inside, I froze again.

I am dirty. I felt dirty. How could get close to her like this?

Letting my hand drop lifelessly, I fell with my back resting on the wall across from her room and lifted my hands, the same hands that ripped the life of that poor animal, to look at them.

Water drops kept leaving my eyes and falling into the palm of my hands, but I felt that no matter how many tears I would cry it wouldn’t be enough to wash my hand of the stain they carried. The stain that I carried.

A creaking sound made me lift my head and look across the hall, only to see my sister watching me with a sad smile on her face.

Why was she sad?

Does she know?

How did she know?

….

I felt like a criminal caught in the act, but was I really wrong to feel that?

“It’ll be fine, sis.” She said as she came close to me and tried to grab my hands to pull me up.

I panicked. I panicked and quickly hid them behind my back.

“Don’t! They’re dirty.” I said as I hid my head within my knees, a feeling of shame making my eyes feel wet again.

…..

Then, an unexpected warmth penetrated my bitter heart, a warmth originating from the small pair of arms that coiled around me and the voice that drifted in my ears.

“There’s nothing dirty about you, sis. I’m sorry.”

I wanted to listen to that voice, and use it to find some peace for all the emotions that were overwhelming my very being, but I knew it was not the truth.

I am dirty.

                                                                           Signed, Eddena Winterhope, A killer.