The night stirred, the heat rising; making air scarce and harsh. I occasionally breathed, as if it a chore, and I a restless labourer.
I lay awake for hours on end, staring in the blackness. Something did not feel right.
I sat up, staring at the cold cup of tea I had left on the nightstand, the milk had curdled, creating a thick cream on top. I knew it was tea because I remember making it, but this cup resembled something long forgotten. I must have been asleep longer than I had thought.
Dust and cobwebs had formed around pictures i had kept framed. Masking me, but leaving the others in the picture unscathed.
I walked to the bathroom, my legs heavy and aching; it were as if I had not walked for a week. The mirror in my bathroom had cracked; split in two, distorting any of its reflections. I did not recognise myself anymore, a distorted shadow of my former self stared back at me emotionless; cold and unforgiving.
My place had become a mess, tables overturned, pictures broken. My TV had been smashed, alongside the glass table that sat in front of it.
I sat down on the dusty chair in the corner of the room. Staring aimlessly at the carnage in front of me. I looked down at myself, blood on my hands.
This reality did not seem normal. I remember this place being clean, free from destruction. I, much like my place, had changed. I had become someone or something I did not recognise. This world seemed unfit for me.
I got dressed in my favourite gear, my jeans, black hoodie and mask. Can't forget the mask. Never forget the mask. Remember the knife.
I loathed this lifestyle. It just seemed unnatural, but i was driven by a force unknown to me. I know I am not like this and so does God, but God can only try save me now. I am beyond repair, beyond help.
I thought about my next victim, how they would dress, how they would act. I did not want to do this, but I had to. Its merely a matter of hours before I kill again.
I am not human; I know that, but I long for humanity I once had. I long for the warm embrace of a human, the love of a parent. I was born not of this Earth.
I remember when I died, the happiness I felt for humans died too. Now, my throat was dry and I needed blood, desperately.
When I was murdered on that day, something awoke within me. Something hidden and evil. Something I knew I would never be able to control. The desire to kill.
I am what some people would call a demon, a monster. Am I exempt from my crimes because I am a monster? Or does that make it worse?
I knew when I was put on this Earth I would not fit in, and I was right. Cast aside from society, boycotted, tortured, mutilated. I was chased down by the humans and brutally murdered.
I only wanted love. Now I am forced to wander this Earth, seeking revenge not wrought by me, but this feeling inside me. I am an embodiment of evil.
I searched for my next feed, scared; wondering when this will all stop. I want this to stop now. I just want to be human. I want to be loved.
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