Wednesday, 30 December 2015

Your Mid-Week Update for 12/30/15

I’m worried about my mother.

I never thought I would say that.

She’s always been so sure. Even though there are days that I can’t handle her and days when I can’t understand what the hell goes through her head, she has always been opinionated and confident and loud. This was the quietest and most uncomfortable Christmas since my father caught my sister fooling around with the neighbour’s son under the Christmas tree.

We burnt the tree skirt.

Unfortunately this visit was not as entertaining for me.

My parents showed up at 9pm on Christmas Eve, dropped their coats in the front doorway and went to bed. I’m not exaggerating that much. My mother didn’t stick around long enough to greet Jason in the kitchen and the only exchange I had with my father was to ask if the bathroom was clean enough for him to use. The two of them were in the bedroom with the door closed within ten minutes of arriving.

I was up at 6 the next morning to start preparing lunch – James and I agreed to eat in the afternoon so we could spend as much time with my sister – and my mother was already sitting there drinking coffee. So I asked her: where’s my sister?

“Oh, I assumed you were picking her up this morning.”

What the fuck, mom?

I wasn’t in the mood to argue, I just wanted to see my sister, so I hopped in the car and drive for three hours on Christmas Day to pick up my sister from prison. Meanwhile, I left my husband and brother to fend for themselves as my parents woke up and invaded my home. I made it up to them later. I don’t think Jason has really forgiven me.

After I filled out all the paperwork, I got to see my sister. For the first time in forever I got to hug my sister. I’ve missed her. I wish she hadn’t been released. It hit me hard: seeing her again, getting to talk with her without a piece of metal between us. Having to let her go at the end of the day was rough.

It didn’t help that my mother was distractingly uncharacteristic.

We talked all the way back home and caught up on our lives for the last few months. I apologized for Sandra but assured her that her killer was brought to a slow and painful justice. Back home, the boys were very respectful and very efficient, preparing Christmas dinner/lunch for six, ignoring my mother’s scathing remarks.

James was kind enough to text me bits of their conversation as it was happening. Everything from: “don’t peel the potatoes that way” to “so what is it that you exactly do” to – my personal favourite – “you see like a nice man, why did you marry my daughter?”

I don’t know what his response was to that but my sister’s response was something about being great in the sack and “oh my god, mom, they’ve been married for seven years, why are you asking these questions now?” I realized that this was the first time my husband and my mother have been alone together.

I’ve been very careful about keeping those two apart for fear that one of them will say something they can’t take back. My money was on my mother but who knew it’d be James?

James didn’t respond after that last text so I didn’t know what to expect when we walked into the house. It was intensely silent. I feared for someone’s life. But they were all there, safe and sound, setting the table and cleaning the kitchen like a normal functioning family. Mother and James refused to speak to each other all throughout dinner – which was delicious; my boys did a fantastic job. Jason spent a lot of dinner asking my sister questions and answering hers.  Without Sandra’s influence, I think he was curious about his mother and her life. All he’s known about her since he was twelve is what I’ve told him and what his grandmother has tried to tell him. I don’t think he ever knew what to believe.

I haven’t seen my sister smile that much in decades, I swear. Being with Jason really…it brought a lightness to her that I think she needed.

My father was silent throughout dinner. James assured me that he did his obligatory walk-through inspection of the house and made a list of the areas that needed to be tended to. Most of it was in the basement and laundry room – I just haven’t had a chance to meticulously clean so I couldn’t blame him for putting it on the list. He didn’t put the kid’s rooms on the list and I was so grateful. Normally he’ll do a sweep of the upper floors and remind Jason to make his bed every day and tell Sandra that she needs to keep her desk tidy. But he didn’t this year. I haven’t touched Sandra’s room. I think I said I was going to but I haven’t been able to. I’ll have to eventually – I  can’t leave it there forever but maybe not right now.

When my father is silent, I don’t worry; it’s my mother that concerns me. I know that she had James had some sort of fallout but I don’t know what it was over. Whatever happened, it must have been big to make her ignore bother daughters at once. That’s rare indeed. So really the only sound at the dinner table was the back and forth between Jason and my sister.

My parents left immediately after dinner. They didn’t stay to clean up or talk to their daughters or spend time with their grandson. They grabbed their coats and left.

It was the fastest, quietest dinner I have ever spent with my parents.

I left Jason and my sister alone while James and I cleaned up. I didn’t mind, I knew that she’d be out of our lives by the end of the day. She had been granted 24 hour leave that technically started the night of Christmas Eve so I had to drive her back after only a few hours with us. Thanks to my parents I got an afternoon with my sister and nothing more.

I asked James what happened between him and my mother and he said it was a personal matter and doesn’t bear repeating. I called bullshit but it’s now been almost a week and he still won’t tell me and my father won’t return my calls. I hate not knowing things that affect my family. That’s a dangerous thing.

Christmas itself was fine. We hung Sandra’s stocking and lit a candle for her. It felt right.

When she was little, she hated Christmas. She hated waking up early – her brother loved it – she hated the mess that wrapping paper left behind. But she loved her brother and that was always enough. I don’t think she ever believed in Santa. My sister and I tried to get her to believe for her brother’s sake but I don’t think it worked. She kept it a secret from Jason, though and that was really nice. As she got older, she started to get into the spirit of the holiday more. She started humming Christmas carols around the house but would never admit it. She always found these incredibly personal gifts for her friends and family.

I didn’t think it’d be this hard: spending the holidays without her. It’s a lot more draining than I expected.

I don’t know what else to say after that.

The holidays are going by so quickly and then it’ll be 2016. A whole new year. A lot of opportunity.

I don’t want to make any new year’s resolutions, I’m just going to break them. But that doesn’t mean 
I can’t work harder and be better. This is an excuse to start off the next month on a positive note.

I need a drink.

As always, dear readers,


Stay Safe

Wednesday, 23 December 2015

Your Mid-Week Update 12/23/15

Deck the Halls
Deck the halls with bloody corpses,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Waiting for the time to strike
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Don we now our rubber gloves,
Fa la la  la la la  la la la.
Grab the bleach and start the scrubbing,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

See the blazing fire before us,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Slice them up and leave no traces
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Mix it up so you’re never caught,
Fa la la  la la la  la la la.
Spend your Christmas with the dead,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Twelve Days of Christmas
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me
Twelve Burning Bodies
Eleven Poisoned Blades
Ten Missing Fingers
Nine Gagged and Bound
Eight Bleeding Stomachs
Seven Days of Torture
Six Acid Washes
Five Broken Necks
Four Bullet Wounds
Three Tire Irons
Two Missing Eyes
And a Severed Head in a Pear Tree

We Wish You a Merry Christmas
We wish you a Merry Christmas;
We wish you a didn’t die;
We hope you stay inside and you don’t get slaughtered.
Good god this is rough I see all your guts;
You should have stayed inside now you’re dead on the floor.

Merry Christmas to all,

Stay Safe this Holiday Season

Wednesday, 16 December 2015

Your Mid-Week Update for 12/16/15

I was honestly really getting into the spirit of Christmas until I threw it all up on Friday morning. A 24 hour thing went around the office and I normally don’t catch them but I did; and it sucked. James also did not appreciate it but he was there for my nonetheless like the loving husband he is.

It was just disgusting. I couldn’t eat or sleep or move, really. How do humans deal with this on a ‘more than once a decade’ basis?  I’m never getting sick again.

Oh and my mother called (I’m not saying it’s related or anything). She's coming over for dinner on Christmas Eve. Remember how well that turned out last year? Still I remain hopeful that it won’t end the same way but who knows what’ll happen.

Did I tell you that she hasn’t contacted Jason since his sister’s death? Nearly five months and not a word from her. What kind of grandmother cares so little for her grandchilden? I can expect that for me but she spent so much time trying to butt into the kids’ lives, I’m amazed at how little time has been spent on Jason’s since losing his sister. When she showed up in October for that one day, it is was exhausting. I don’t know how we’re going to get through the holiday season.

In any case, she called on Friday to confirm the four of them would be there for Christmas day. Four of them? Oh yes. My sister’s coming. And her parole officer. I promise I would have told you; if they’d told me. My sister’s been granted leave for Christmas Day and she’s spending it with us. And my mother is driving.

When the fuck did that happen?

To my knowledge, those two have not spoken since her incarceration and suddenly they’re close enough to be making plans without me? I’m calling bullshit. But oh well. Christmas dinner just doubled in bodies – and not the fun way. Who knows what’ll happen.

Probably a repeat of last year. With more bloodshed since I’m not on that weird anti-murder kick. At least that part of my life’s behind me.

Man, I haven’t thought about that in weeks; Daniel and Charlotte, and my stint in the psychiatric ward. That felt like a completely different woman going through all those struggles. I’m glad I came out on the other side of that. It shouldn’t have cost my daughter her life.

No more. My husband, my son; they won’t suffer because of what I do.

See what my mother makes me do? I get sentimental and shit.

I need to go stab something.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Wednesday, 9 December 2015

Your Mid-Week Update for 12/09/15

I’ve found myself in this odd state of December where I want to get into the holiday spirit but it’s just not clicking. I’m listening to the music, watching the movies – I’ve seen so many versions of a Christmas Carol, I’m beginning to side with Scrooge. Ba humbug.

I was right: a few kills made me feel better. Or at least they released some endorphins and gave the illusion of happiness. And that’s all we can really hope for isn’t it?

First there was the Snow White and her seven drunk suitors. I came across her trying to leave a bar on Thursday night. She was trying to leave the bar, not me – I think I’ve officially outgrown clubbing. Surrounding this poor 20-something girl were seven men all lined up around the outside of the bar, all trying to get her to go home with them. It was pathetic; so I stepped in and pretended to be her aunt to get her out of there. Once we were a few blocks away, we stopped to hide in an alley just to make sure we hadn’t been followed. The coast was clear so she thanked me profusely and we went our separate ways. Or so she thought. I watched her for a few blocks and then started following her. Stalking is such an ugly word but yes, I stalked her until she realized what I was doing and stopped to confront me on the corner of a deserted street. I told her that she’d dropped her wallet when we escaped and when she turned to check, I stabbed her in the neck with a screw driver. She bled out in the alley I dragged her into and her body was found the next morning.

Then there was The Headless Horsemen (a story which is a little on the nose but it’s still awesome). A man, driving his motorcycle way too late at night in a residential area, lost his head when a concerned citizen removed it with a chainsaw for disturbing her sleep. Of course she killed him in a cemetery where his engine was loud enough to wake the dead. Perhaps it did…

And finally, there was Harry Potter and the Cracked Skull.

I was very focused on the head and neck region this week. Huh.

Anyway, there was a man taking his sweet time walking around the mall where I was doing my Christmas shopping. He would constantly swerve in and out as I tried to pass him; and he walked so slow. Which is just careless. Spatial awareness is so important when you are in a crowded space. It’s just annoying when don’t keep up with the pace of the crowd around you. So of course as he was heading to the washroom, I bumped into him and he happened to hit his head on the tile and I happened to smash his head against the stall door until his skull was cracked and he died from brain damage within the hour – so my husband told me. I often enjoy getting my hands dirty but it means I rely more heavily on my husband to cover it up. Forensics science has greatly improved since I started this. Of course they haven’t caught up to me but they get better each year.

And so do I.

I was listening to the news on my way to work yesterday and they said that our city has the highest homicide and accidental death rate in the continent. And this is a major city. The crowds make it easy to do my job but I couldn’t help feeling a sense of pride when I heard that announcement. Not only do they not know who I am, but they mention nothing of serial murder; they don’t even know all of these killings are related.

Okay, now I’m starting to get into the Christmas spirit.

Speaking of Christmas spirit.

Heather got smashed at the company Christmas party on Saturday and she revealed a little something to our table: her husband didn’t actually ask to join in when he caught her cheating. He’s divorcing her. I feel so satisfied. She’s just a horrible person. I’ve been laughing for days; especially when she showed up on Monday morning and begged me not to tell anyone else.

Why would I tell anyone when I can use it as blackmail? She cares so much about her reputation at work, it’d be a sin not to exploit it.

So Heather is sated and quiet and I’m finally coming into the overwhelming feeling of joy and fulfillment that comes with the holidays.

Thank you, readers, for helping me work through that. I’m feeling a lot better.

As always, dear readers,


Stay Safe

Wednesday, 2 December 2015

Your Mid-Week Update for 12/02/15

I’m doing better. I remembered my husband’s birthday. I already woke him up with…my knowledge of his birthday. He was very happy.

Okay yes, birthday sex is very clich├ęd but you know what? So am I. That’s just how we roll.

James is in the shower so I’m writing quickly. I don’t really have much to say anyways. Things have been going well for us and I’m very content in my life right now. James is back home, Jason is…at school. I assume he’s succeeding or at least not flunking out since I haven’t heard anything from his teachers.

Work is fine – Heather’s a bitch. Everything’s back to normal.

Well, as normal as things can be these days.

I’ll admit that I haven’t…I feel…I…

I miss my daughter.

I know that it’s natural and there’s nothing I can do to change what happened but I just want her back home. It occurred to me the other day that I haven’t been in her bedroom since she died and…I still haven’t.

I think I’m scared.

I don’t get scared very often any more. Not about trivial things like bedrooms.

I just don’t want to put her things away. With Christmas so close I’ll probably lose all willpower to do what “needs to be done”. That’s how James describes it.


I love Christmas. All those extra people on the street late at night, carrying money and gifts so murder suddenly becomes a “mugging gone wrong” and I don’t have to spend money on gifts for my co-workers. It’s the best.

Maybe a couple of kills will get my mind off of such morbid things.

I just heard the shower turn off so I’m going to leave things here.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe