vassilis

They call you a psychopath.
They say you are a dysfunctional member of society.
They say that you are a danger to society.
But are you?

I stand there, amazed at what I had just done. The blood was dark, and thick, as it oozes through my fingers. I never dreamed that there would be so much blood. I walk slowly to the tap, feeling rather dazed.

Turning the tap on, I watch the cold water tear away at the hot blood, dragging it down the drain. Some of the blood had clotted against my skin though, so I start to scrub. What I had done starts to sink in, and I go into a scrubbing frenzy. I rub my hands and forearms until they are raw, almost bleeding themselves. Then I slowly remove my drenched clothing. The metallic odor hits me like a sledgehammer, and I dry heave a couple times. I proceed to scrub the rest of my body once the urge to be sick passes.

Raw all over, I started to feel the panic rise. What if someone found out what I had done? But what I had done wasnt that bad? Was it? I should clean up anyway. Just to make it seem less well, I guess less worse than what it is. Im pretty certain that no one will know anyway. How could they? I am all alone.

All mine.

I walk back to the pool of blood. I have everything I need to start cleaning it up. I start slowly. Meticulously. I want to eliminate every trace of what I have done. I dispose of everything, burn my clothes. I hide all evidence. At this rate not even I will know what had just happened. It will be like a dream. How the blood pooled over me

The shower is warm against my skin, and I start to feel more human. Not that I think a human could do what I just did, but I am human, so I guess one can. I wash my hair, my face. I wash all over again; just to be sure I didnt miss anything. After all I had done to make sure that the room was clean, I wouldnt be amused that someone suspected something because I had blood behind my ear.

I begin to feel powerful. This will be my little secret. No one has to ever know. It will be mine. I like the idea. I say it aloud a couple of times. I realize that my voice is unsteady, so I start to talk to myself, practicing every syllable to make it sound just right. I cant go around sounding like I had done something wrong, now can I? I hadnt really.

I start laughing. The laugh feels maniacal. Almost evil. It cant be coming from me, but it is. I can hear my own voice in it; I can feel my body shake with each laugh. I start to feel scared now. What have I done? How could I have done that? There has to be something wrong with me. I must be insane. Someone help me, I am insane, look what I just did.

Or did I?

I run back to the room, expecting to find it still covered in blood. It wasnt. I didnt do anything then. Well, thats a relief. I hate it when my dreams seem so real that I think they actually happened. Although, I can still feel the blood on my arms. I can still feel myself plunging my hands deep within the bloody mess. Pure ecstasy. I start to feel sexually aroused at the idea.

I start to touch myself, caress along the paths that the blood had earlier created. I need to find a sexual release, and I start to play. The power I feel is exhilarating and it is all I can do not to go insane. I touch each part of me intimately. I climax, shaking at the pure strength of the intense need I feel. The skin feels as though it is burning under my touch. I orgasm, greater and far more intoxicating than ever before.

All mine.

Breathing heavily, feeling my heart race from the orgasm, I walk back to my cupboard, and reach in for clothes. I get dressed, grinning all the while. I had really just done that. I know it wasnt a dream. It was so easy. Im surprised how easy it was. I really was expecting more of a struggle. Isnt that what they usually say? There is a struggle from the victim? I didnt even have a mark on me, not even a faint scratch mark or bruise. I now know what it feels like to be a predator. To catch your prey, and to savor in the kill
I feel so powerful. The sight of the blood, as it first flowed out. Ill never forget that. I start to smile as I remember how little came out at first. Then it started to gush out. It was like a waterfall. A dark, deep crimson waterfall that I just wanted to stick my hands into. I did stick my hands into that waterfall, and it made me feel whole again.

I loved the way the blood ran down my arms, soaking into me. Yes, this I will keep to myself. No one needs to know. This is mine, and mine alone. I dont regret what I did. No, no regret. I would do it again, if I could, but then Id do it slower, so I can savor the feeling more.

All mine.

I make myself some thing to drink, and eat. I cant believe how hungry I am. I feel as though I havent eaten in days. Once Im done, and I cleaned my dishes, I go attempt to do some work. I still have a lot to do today, and my unexpected Act took a lot more time than I thought it would. Well the cleaning did. It was starting to get late now. I glance at my watch; it is almost time for my favorite TV show. I turn on the TV, and get comfortable on the couch.

I wake with a start; I feel the blood all over my body. It is smothering me. What is going on? I cleaned myself! Where did all this blood come from? I what had I done?

I ran to the bathroom; switch on all the lights on the way. I look at myself in the mirror. I dont recognize my face. Is that what a killer looks like? Im not a killer. I am not. What I did wasnt wrong. I wont do it again either. I just did it once and no one will know. No one needs to know.

I splash water on my face, and the features start to look more like my own. I start to laugh again. Relief flows through me. I cant believe that I thought of myself as a killer, the idea is just completely absurd. Me, a killer. No, I am a good citizen. What I had done earlier wasnt even a flea stain on my moral record. It couldnt even be counted as doing anything wrong.

I am not a killer. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. No, what I did was right. It was right for me. I am not a killer. No, I am not. Am I?