I think I broke something. Not actually, my wrist just hurts like a bitch. It’s all swollen and twitchy. I should probably get it checked out but who has the time?
When I first started killing, I had to be very careful about the victims I chose because it was a learning process and I wasn’t as nimble or knowledgeable as I am now. I never let them get away but the first thing I had to learn was speed over strength. It is much better to have fast reflexes than to have overwhelming muscles. Over the years, I’ve discovered I don’t mind victims fight back. It adds an extra challenge – and I always gain the upper hand – and as long as my skill trumps their will to live, then I’m happy. Which makes this weekend so disappointing.
I let a man lure me into his car with promises of a safe ride home. Now I don’t condone this: getting into a stranger’s car is dangerous eve by my standards. But I was feeling cocky so I let him drive us just outside of town off a dirt road. It’s like he was asking for it.
Unfortunately for the both of us, while he chased me, I turned to hit him with a crowbar and he caught it a split second faster than I anticipated. He caught one good swing in before I regained control. That is the most a normal victim has gotten from me in a long time. Ever.
He hit me with the crowbar and I caught it on my scaphoid which is the bone at the bottom of your thumb connecting to your wrist. The whole area has been enflamed for days. I really should go to the hospital but I need it as a reminder. I can’t be distracted when I’m on the job. No matter what’s going on at home.
I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.
Jason’s graduation, James’s promotion – or eventual promotion (he’s working a lot lately, hoping to cull some good will) – and now it seems Heather and I may actually be friends. You see why I’ve been distracted?
Last week, we went out for drinks but I lasted half an hour at the crowded game-night pub before I suggested a tamer setting. Even when I was age-appropriate, I only liked being outside of rowdy clubs and bars for hunting purposes. Too many people. Too unpredictable. A group of people in a dark room, grinding and shouting, can cause panic. Drunks out in the open are cannon fodder. Once we were in a calmer scenario – a chain diner that served coffee and a gentle hum at all hours of the day – Heather just started talking; about her absent father, controlling mother, her inability to control her urges, her loving husband. She’s so lucky that he forgave her as often as he did. And I think she knows that which is devastating her. Normally I would blame her for her own problems but something about her sob story made me feel for her. We have a lot in common and when she’s not putting on a facade she’s actually…human. I kind of like her.
So much so that we made plans for lunch on Monday and then again tomorrow. I never thought I’d see the day when I voluntarily spent time with Heather but when she’s not trying so hard we get along. I dare say we could be friends after all these years.
And her work ethic is through the roof. See, there’s always something in it for me. I haven’t completely changed my ways.
My wrist is killing me and I really should get ready for work. I’ve been going in early this week to make sure I am entirely caught up. I’m so close.
Once that’s taken care of, I think things will be a little more balanced. Too much change at once is not good for me.
As always, dear readers,