This confession needs a bit of an introduction, so I’m sorry if it gets quite long.
So as a kid I enjoyed burning ants with a magnifying glass – you’ve probably all done it before. I know it sounds a bit silly but I enjoyed the power I had over them – I was the one deciding their fate, choosing who should live or die, almost like a god.
One day I was alone in the living room and my sisters gerbils were playing around in their cage. I took out my magnifying glass but as there was no sun, it wouldn’t work – not to mention they’re a little bigger then ants.
So I took the first one and held its head in the water bowl until it was dead. It bit me a few times but I felt the pain was nothing compared to the burning excitement I felt from doing it.
Over the next few days, while my sister was still grieving, I found other ways to kill the remaining 2 gerbils. I forced a marble into the mouth of one of them, breaking its jaw. It starved to death. The other one I wrapped with duct tape until it couldn’t move, then pushed pins the whole way through. I then disguised each one as an escape so nobody would know. I kept their skulls as mementos, hidden in a drawer. Each gerbil I killed seemed to fulfill something within me, as if I were scratching a hard to reach itch – it’s a hard feeling to explain.
So that was when I was around 10, and I didn’t kill anything else until I was 15. I saw a neighbour’s dog in the road and gained its confidence. As I was stroking it, I managed to pick it up and carry it into a park nearby. It was quite late and cold, so there weren’t many people in the park. I started rubbing its belly so it rolled onto it back, then while its eyes were shut, I stamped on its belly, several times, hard. I blinded each of its eyes with a pencil while it was still winded then left it behind a bush. I got up early the next day to see if it was still there. Surprisingly it was still alive, so I used the same pencil from the day before to reach through the eye socket and poke around in the brain. It took a long time using my dad’s axe to behead the dog. I kept the skull and left the dog’s body in the neighbour’s garden.
Since then, at least once a month I have gone out at night to see what else I can get away with killing as far from home as possible – to avoid being found out by my parents. I started off with strays, but moved onto bigger and stronger animals. I enjoy planning the best ways to torture and kill the animal without being hurt myself, as well as the rush that comes from taking away its life, and the confidence that comes from holding a huge secret from your friends and family. But I’m 18 now, and It’s been 4 months since I killed something. The last animal I killed was an old horse my mother had raised since birth.
I had to first attack a leg so it couldn’t charge at me, then when it inevitably fell over I drove a knife deep into its neck and ran from the scene. It was dead the next day.
Now here’s the confession.
I haven’t performed any animal killings in quite a while and part of me thinks it’s because my mother’s horse was too hard to beat. It had been something I was quite close to and trusted me, and was also a strong animal that was a challenge to defeat.
I go to an all girls college, and have been fantasizing recently about another student in my Latin class, who is both attractive and very smart. In my dreams I have planned a method I can use to kill her and dispose of her body discreetly. I just want to see what human flesh tastes like. Of course I can’t disclose my plans here, but I am just worried this is getting a little too far.
I have a shrine inside a locked chest in my room of the skulls of all my victims (apart from the horse – it was too large, so I buried it in our garden), and there is a space in the middle which I have always left for my first human subject. I’m going to go to university soon, so I know I’ll either have to do it soon, or give up altogether.
I doubt I’ll end up killing a human, but the fact I’m considering it I think could be seen as a little worrying.