My grandmother died three weeks before I turned 20. I wasn’t particularly close to her but being at her funeral, surrounded by all that sadness, it made me feel unfocused. I couldn’t get any traction on why I was so overwhelmed with emotion. My solution was to kill. I skipped class, ignored my family, and I killed. Longest murder streak of my life to date. I found a sort of rhythm in the way I stabbed and bludgeoned as much as I could. I even ventured outside of the city to find a new victim pool. The day after my twentieth birthday, I went to visit my grandmother’s grave. Then I continued to kill because it made me feel better.
Yes, talking also helps. That’s part of why I started the blog. Mostly to document my life – let people know that they aren’t alone and that I’m awesome – but it also gave me an opportunity to talk through things in my life that I couldn’t bring up to anyone else. After I met James I just kept going. It felt nice to have a place to get everything out in the open without the fear of consequences.
He picked his own name, you know. With everyone else on this blog, I picked arbitrary names to protect my identity but he asked to choose his own. He said he always felt like a “James”. The Supplanter. I had to look that up, admittedly; it means to replace by force or oust someone.
He’s been my rock this past month. He’s fielded every phone call, paid every bill. He even took last weekend off so he could help me dispose of Daniel. He’s been so stoic – we’ve barely spoken. Don’t think I don’t know what he’s doing. He’s letting me fall apart, get it all out of my system.
Well it’s out. I did everything I needed to do to put my daughter to rest. I said goodbye at her funeral, I disposed of her killer.
I don’t know what to do next. I’ve just been going to work every day. I don’t talk to people unless I have to, I go home, I eat dinner, and I go to bed. All week. Over and over. I didn’t even notice that Jason hasn’t been going to school. I overheard a call between James and the secretary at the school. He was supposed to go back last week but he hasn’t left the house. James explained the situation and they agreed to send over his homework.
I have two children. I dealt with one and now I have one left. He needs someone and I don’t think I can help him right now.
I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what comes next. And I hate not knowing. James seems to know. There’s this tingling in my fingers. Like I need to be doing something right now. Like I need to be doing something, I need to be moving. I had that feeling when I was 19. Three weeks before I turned 20. But things are so much different now. I have a son who needs a family and my daughter was going to walk in my footsteps. The way I see it, I have two options: I can focus on my family, take time to rebuild; or I can continue the journey that I was on with my daughter, kill on her behalf.
Why not both?
Take lives that she would have taken, then come home to my family and heal. I think I can do it. I can be both.
As always, dear readers,