Learning

Chapter IV

When I was eleven years old my father just left one day..we saw him off on the train with his promise to "return soon" a blatant lie right from the outset. Because he had no intention of coming back. He said years later that he'd just had enough..which was fair enough, or maybe not. And yet, at the time he left, as much as I was thankful for the reprieve, looking back I knew that it's not actually what I needed.
But it happened and it went and I obviously had no say in the matter. So naturally I adapted. The only thing that truly bothered me about it after a while was the immediate halt to the unravelling of the mystery of the nightmares my father had been consumed by. At aged eleven I'd grown knowledgeable enough in the basics of understanding for it to be fairly easy to gleen that my father had lost complete control of his mental faculties..and certainly his brand of discipline was an education which was testament to that fact. But from what I knew for certain, now of the nightmares aged eleven, was that I am destined to kill a lot of people in my lifetime.
I take life with the rock or the knife..bare hands..cord..with my feet..hammers. My actual first at seventeen was with the guys own knife.
So at aged eleven I was already versed with the methods of my future crimes..now I needed the motives. My fathers need to escape the family home left the reasons for my future crimes unanswered and would have to be something that only I could discover for myself. From the incident that happened at aged eight, with the splitting of the bully's skull, I knew that I had a deep need to have visible evidence of a wrong being righted..albeit in the most unorthodox of fashions. But not so unorthodox compared to the cavemen that we are sprung from. Sometimes violence gives all the answers it ever needs to..reveals all the truth about everything when it is unleashed. As a kid some would say I'm more akin to a caveman anyway..plus violence seemed to work just fine on my bully.
But at eleven I'd had no similar urges. Sure there were times when you spot an injustice and it makes you angry because you want to make it right..and sometimes it can't be made right. You have to observe that process while trying not to focus on the desire to mould the world as you deem fit constantly..and so because I wouldn't just react violently to every situation I'd therefore built up a good degree of tolerance. I was physically and psychologically hardened by my father so I wasn't the type of person to be reactionary. My first murder took a moment to make the decision to commit to the intention..but it took three/four hour's of considering the course of action and every ramification before the act was even ran through. So I can be considered "Warped" but never "Insane".
From eleven until the first murder at seventeen my life was fairly uneventful. I blended in with everyone else, so much so that I'd managed to blur my own inner desires adequately enough..I were just happy living with everyone else's. But when my father left I was free to think and because violence had been brought upon me..to "school" me, by my father, I guess I wanted to teach the same lessons..but to people who actually deserved it.
After committing my first murder I felt liberated..free of my need to be violent, but only because of an act of violence.
It wouldn't be until two years later, at aged nineteen, that my nature would fully manifest itself.
Walking home early one saturday night I clocked three lads harassing a rather drunk young lady. One had a bike and was riding alongside and would curve his direction, every few metres, directly in front of the girl stopping her from furthering. The other two seemed like sidekicks..but then sidekicks try to emulate whatever the boss does so their still a threat..just not as much. I picked up my pace in order to stop any more distress for the girl, rather than a need to crack skulls. At aged nineteen I had a perfect notion of heroic principles and I obviously wanted to rescue her..to impress her. Not in a way that seduces..I just wanted to get her free of these lads and get her home. But I wanted that moment of recognition between us..that someone has to stand up and do what's right in this world.
I'd lit a cigarette when I were within twenty seconds of them. A cigarette..not a roll-up. A roll-up you can easily stub out between your fingers and not feel a thing. But a tailor made cigarette burns with a fairly hard burning cherry..a few strong pulls later and you have a carrot-top that can be breath-blown and rotated at the same time in order to create a perfect spear point. Ten seconds away and my heart-rate drops and feels more like a dot pulse instead of a fist sized pump as I begin to perceive time, vision and sound in more concentrated doses..peripherals morph and contort but the eyes fix upon the centre of the objective. I ball my left hand into a fist with the burning cigarettes carrot-top sticking out below my curled little finger. Five seconds and there's no one about but us..so nothing held back then.
Boss on the bike is on the road side of the pavement alongside the girl. The two piss-taking sidekicks walk behind her. I take the road so that I kome up alongside bike-boss and then I turn on his side and stab him right in the left ear with carrot-top while punching the life out of this ear. He was already dead by the time he was thrown into the bundle that is now his buckled bike as I turned on the two sidekicks..well one sidekick now because one had the foolish sense to scarper. The remaining chappie seems frozen and wont be any hassle..so I showed him how surprising a south-paw can be. Took him off his feet in one punch then I stood on his throat and vented years of pain through my leg, down to my boot and into his larynx. The girl is crouching down the whole time hoping to not get hit but is too petrified to run. I hold her face after it's done and tell her it's alright..that we need to go, that I'll walk her home. We argued a little..she thought it was a little extreme. I reminded her that they could've done anything..she merely said "but so could you!". I told her that I wasn't like that..that I just wanted to help. We smoked a cigarette and then she bizarrely asked for a piggy-back the rest of the way because of her feet..like nothing had happened..like I'd known her for years. I naturally obliged and walked her home with the stars gleaming above us like diamonds strewn on black silk. It was approaching two am as I set her down and walked her to her door. She put the key in the door then took it out and turned to face me. She came straight up and started kissing me till I had to tell her that it was alright..that she didn't need to do that. She smiled and threw her arms around me and breathed "thankyou" into my chest. I kissed the top of her head as she told me that she wanted to give me something.
"Hold out your hand."
"O..kay."
She writes her phone number down with a felt tip on my hand and part of my arm.
"Call me."
"I mean are you sure?..think I've just killed two guys back there."
"Trust me I'm sure..whatever happens. Goodnight."
Walking home I felt as though I were floating home. On the way I detoured back to the scene of crime and everything was as last seen..the two body's looking comfortably at home in a town where drunks and the homeless laying in plain view is no strange sight. In my pocket I carried a tin of lighter petrol..I'd always had silly ambitions to start a ruddy great fire somewhere but now I were squirting it over the two bodies I'd piled up. I led a trail then tossed the can on the body's and then lit my trail. Spark gathers flame which eats petrol and expands beautifully. I walked a good three hundred metres and then looked back at the magnificent flaming orange and yellow bundle that I'd created. It would be an hour and a half approximately before the police turn up..which I waited out. I watched their arrival and then when they'd decamped I wove my way through the labyrinth of alleys and back-ways until I were home again and tearing my clothes off and revelling in everything that I'd just done. I felt like a perfect devil.
But all this left me in no doubt about just how I were reacting to things and that it was wrong. So the truth must be that I simply enjoyed doing it. That night I slept like a baby as the damsels perfume entered my dreams.