Una lobaMature

Just something I wrote when I was bored one day and finally decided I should share it and see what people think. It's not finished yet, but I'm not really sure how to continue it other than a few random ideas

Everything changes, yet everything remains the same. A colourful array of pastels sits before me, my piece of paper shining and white, like a dove, or a computer screen, or fresh snow. At one point in my life I was snorkelling in the Caribbean, and there was sand the colour of this paper, but that was long ago and I won't ever be going back there again. I have a top this colour of white to, but if you really look at it, it isn't white at all, it's a rainbow of colours and they're all there, red and yellow and blue and orange and purple....


There was a time in my life when everyone was there, my whole family. Not anymore, not since... They told me that painting would be good for me, therapeutic, but it's just bringing back all the memories of that time, before. Time is a relative thing though, the time before, the time after, even the time during that week. The week that changed everything. The week where something lying dormant in the back of my mind forced its way to the surface and landed me in here. Where I’ve now been for 13 months.


If I hadn’t have had that accident then everything would have stayed the same, if not forever but for a little longer, until the next time I saw...it. I can’t even name it because hearing it or seeing it written down on this page, that I’m supposed to be painting on but am instead using as a diary, it will send the dormant gene back to the front of my mind, and I’ll do something dreadful again, something awful and dangerous and I’ll get put back in here for even more time. Not that they should ever let me out of here and if they do just to move me to another secure unit. Somewhere where I can't hurt anyone with my...condition. A very rare condition that makes me believe I am something that shouldn't and doesn’t exist, that does the foulest things and preys on people like when I had my episode and...I have to stop thinking about it. I really have to or I will go mad again and kill more people. Yes, that’s what I did kill people. Normal, innocent people on the streets. That was the first time, when I was completely out of control. The times after that a small part of the real me remained and I was able to target only the lowest of the low, the vermin of my town and eventually neighbouring towns.


I wouldn’t have been caught if it wasn't for that girl. That stupid and ridiculous girl that caught me out and that I for some stupid ridiculous reason allowed into my world, my mind and my heart. She never realised about my special problems until it was too late. Then she told the police and that was the end of it. I found out later that she was just as insane as I am. She may have even been worse, because she enjoyed what our brains made us do. She got some sort of sick pleasure out of it, like the kind she got when we had sex. I only knew the bitch for one week, and she still managed to ruin everything. When I escaped from here the first time I managed to track her down and finish her at last. She didn’t know what was coming to her. I wish I could’ve made it work between us, really I do, but in the end I was just a little bit more insane. And she paid the price for letting onto the police about me. It was during an argument. We had a massive fight and I hurt her. In turn she gave me a black eye, three bruised ribs and concussion, and then in spite told the police that I was an abuser. They first took me in for questioning, but after they realised that my mind was not normal or functioning properly, they sent me to the psychiatrist instead.


And I ended up in here. Some of my family members visit occasionally, but only when I’m having a good day. They check at the front desk to see if I’m me or if I’m... that thing. I don’t know what I would be called when I...transform. Vampire, werewolf, bogey man...all your worst nightmares rolled into one. I bite, I tear, I rip, I eat, and I kill. But like I said, only the lowest of the low. I like to think I’m cleaning up the streets. Prostitutes, rapists, murderers, thugs, you name it. Anyone that I don’t deem worthy, I target when I transform. I’m like a modern day Jekyll and Hyde when I transform, only crazier. And none of this would have happened if I wasn’t in that car accident 3 years ago, if I hadn’t seen all that blood and carnage, which triggered the reaction in my mind and made me a killer. Because the truth is, I get a perverse enjoyment out of seeing other people suffer. And that enjoyment and craziness personified is my alter ego.


Let’s call him Phil. Phil is the murderer and insane person. Most other days I’m just normal old Harry. Boring job in a shop, boring family (with some exceptions of course,) and a generally boring life. That girl was my first proper girlfriend, and before I went mad I hadn't had many at all. Just boring old Harry. If they could see me now...if I could only see them now, I’d track them down like I did the others. Because they were all planned and carefully targeted, after the first time I wasn’t going to the take the risk of killing innocents again. In fact I reckon you could say that the streets are kept free of scum because of me, yet no one is appreciative. In fact they call me scum too, yet they can’t see that I’m just a deeply misunderstood individual. They’re so quick to judge and to hate and to throw me in a mental hospital. Well I’ll show them, I’ve been planning my second escape for 4 months now, of course it'll be harder now they’ve upped the security but I have a cunning plan. All I need now is to wait until the opportune moment. All should go well and I’ll be free to continue my life's work, ridding the world of nutters and bad people. Hahahahaha.

The End

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