I have either done a great thing or an absolutely catastrophic thing. I don’t know what I was thinking. The risks far outweighed the rewards in this matter and there was absolutely no reason to do it now, of all times.
That’s the only explanation I have for why, on Friday night, I sat down with my daughter while the boys were out of the house, and told her the entire truth. Specifically, I told her all about my double life.
I confirmed that I was, in fact, a serial killer but that it was much worse than she had initially imagined. I confirmed that her homicidal urges were genetic and that I didn’t want her to end up like me because it was too hard of a life to lead.
At the time, telling Sandra seemed like the right thing to do and while I regret telling her and exposing myself, I think that she might have needed to hear it. On Wednesday night, I was doing laundry and I found a bloodied shirt in the washer – one that wasn’t mine. It took me a few hours to work up the courage to go and talk to Sandra so it was about 1am when I knocked on her door, hoping that she was awake. Of course she was because she’s 18 and they don’t sleep.
I showed her the shirt and she broke down.
Sandra’s murdered someone. A stranger she found on the street on her way home from school yesterday. My very first instinct was to protect her. She walked me through the entire event – she was taking a drive to clear her head in a neighbourhood she wasn’t familiar with in an area of the city that she never goes to, she saw a random stranger and then she saw red. She beat his head into a lamppost on an empty street when he tried to hit on her. No one was around and the area she was in wasn’t known for its high security. She may well be safe. So, of course, my next instinct was to slap her upside the head and ask what the hell she was thinking. Of course I knew I had no right to ask that. She takes after me in so many ways, and I kill without qualms, I shouldn’t be putting restrictions on her.
But I never wanted either of my kids to become killers. I wanted it to end with me.
She liked it. She enjoyed killing that man. Part of me is so proud and the other is terrified. I won’t be able to keep her safe if she keeps doing this and there’s no way she’ll be careful if she doesn’t know how to do it.
I’ll have to teach her.
That’s why I told her the truth about me, hoping that she would trust me enough to let me help if she knew that I’d been through this, just like her.
It was still stupid and risky but if it helps Sandra trust me, maybe it was worth it.
She was quiet for a long time after I told her. Then she hugged me, thanked me, and promised to come to me if she had questions. We haven’t spoken about it since. She hasn’t avoided me at all, she’s just kept the conversation safe. I don’t blame her, Jason is still so oblivious to the changing family dynamic in the house. The last thing he needs is to find out that he lives with killers.
My daughter is a murderer. Never thought I would say those words but just looking at them fills me with…a mountain of emotions that I have no idea how to deal with. So I have a new focus: teach my daughter everything I know about killing and maiming without getting caught. This is a new leaf for us, a chance to make some serious changes and to be better.
I told James about Sandra over the weekend and I swear, it was the first time he’s actually looked me in the eyes since all of this began. If there’s anything that will make a man forget his anger, it’s the thought of his daughter in danger.
Hopefully she’ll come to me next time she has her urges but other than that…all I can do is be prepared to protect my daughter no matter what happens next.
I think things are finally looking up.
As always, dear readers,