Chapter 14

        I went downstairs and kicked in the door to my parents room.  My mother shrieked like a banshee and I threw my grandfather’s journal at my father.

        “Did you know?” I asked as he stared at me in a mixture of horror and stupefaction.

        “What are you talking about son?”

        “Did. You.  Know?” I stated every word for emphasis.

        “Know what?” he yelled at me.

        “That we’re the descendents of Jack the f*****g Ripper?  That we come from a line of murdering lunatics?”

        “I-I didn’t know, how the hell would I have known?”

        All the things I’d done and seen and this little piece of information is what finally drove me over the edge.  I wasn’t made into a killer, I’d been born one.  It was always my destiny to become a murdering fiend.  I was finally living up to my name.  I was a psycho.

        I took a step towards my father with a look of rage on my face and then he grasped his heart and started breathing erratically.  He gasped and then collapsed on the floor, my mother screaming and convulsing.  I looked on at them and did not feel sorrow or remorse, just pity at how pathetic they seemed.  I was pretty sure my dad was going to die and I hoped my mother would end her life before I fully committed to killing everyone.  I wouldn’t kill my parents, but I hoped they’d have the decency to leave this world and not witness their only child become the biggest mass murderer in history.

 

        Before I left my house I collected as my sharp knives as I could and found an axe my father had used to cut firewood.  I took that and turned it into a crude tomahawk.  As I walked into the streets I knew the neighbors had heard the screams and were frightened of me.  They knew that I was back in town and I was going to wreak havoc.  They had no idea how horrible it was going to be though.

        Aside from the knives and axe, I had also invaded my parents liquor cabinet and was now ready to make some Molotov cocktails.  I light one and threw it at my neighbor’s house.  I was lucky, I had a combination of quick spreading fires and panic on my side so the house burned down quickly.  I turned and did the same to another house and then another.  The idiots in their fear and panic had locked themselves in good and tight and so were caught in their blazing homes.  Those that did escape with minor or even major burns I quickly sent a knife into their throats or stabbed them with my dagger or slashed them with my axe.

        No one would escape.  My insanity would make this place a ghost town.  All around me I could hear the screams and it did nothing to me.  I felt no pain, no pity, nothing.  I wanted them all to die.  I had lost everything.  There was no reason to run anymore.  But I damn sure wasn’t going down without a fight.  I would kill the entire town until someone finally ended my pathetic existence.

        A girl came at me screaming, her hair on fire, I cut her down.  I slowly moved throughout the town, burning down houses as I went.  When I ran out of cocktails, I started entering houses and killing everyone inside.  I saw so many familiar faces.  Those faces looked at me in a mixture of confusion and horror.  These people hoped and prayed they’d never see my sadistic face again.  Then I showed up to kill them all and they s**t their pants.

        I had never just randomly killed, it had always been with a purpose.  At the school, all I wanted were the b******s that tried to kill me and I killed anyone who tried to stop me from accomplishing that.  Later on I killed random people out of necessity.  I had to keep from getting caught, I wasn’t done yet.  Nicole.  I took no real pleasure in killing her.  I wanted to so badly, but I couldn’t.  All the people after were a blur.  I didn’t care about them, I killed them out of instinct.  Jack.  He showed me what insanity looked like and when I killed him I hoped I could eradicate that spark that had always threatened within me to burst fully into flame.

        Christine.  The thought of her sent me spiraling ever deeper into the abyss.  I’m sorry, I thought.  I hope you’re looking away.  I know you’re looking down on me from above.  I wish I could tell you I’ll see you soon, but I doubt we’ll be going to the same place my love.  I had to push her from my thoughts.  I had a job to do.

        “Johnny I knew you’d come for me,” said some girl who looked familiar but whose name I couldn’t place.  “I knew you’d come and we’d finally be together.”

        “I don’t know who you are,” I said.  “But you’re lucky you’re not already dead.”

        “Johnny, please,” she said as if she didn’t believe me, “we’re going to be so happy together.”

        She tried to wrap her arms around me so I slapped her across the face and sent her tumbling to the floor.  I left not bothering to kill the dumb b***h.  Big mistake.

 

        I stumbled through the streets and when I looked around I saw something that made me laugh hysterically.  Somehow I had made it to the road I used to take when I walked to school and just barely past the trees I could see the hole.  No one had even bothered to try filling it up.  I walked over to the hole and started jumping in and out of it.  My insanity had finally come full circle.  I started rolling around in the hole and took out my lighter and started trying to set the woods on fire.

        “Let the world burn!” I shouted to no one.

        Then I turned and saw my school in the distance and started walking towards it in a stupor.  I felt like a zombie.  There really seemed to be no method to my madness.  But maybe there was.  Maybe something was drawing me to the school, where my first murders had taken place.

        I stumbled up to the school and looked around.  They had almost finished renovating the place.  They wanted no one to remember the things I had done in this place.  No one would ever forget me though.  Only the family and friends would remember the random people I’d killed.  But me, I would never be forgotten.  The world always remembers serial killers.  I’d be the most notorious one of them all.  Ed Gein, Bundy, Gacy,  Manson, Zodiac, BTK, Gary Ridgeway, and even my own flesh in blood, Jack the Ripper.  They’d all pale in comparison to me.

        I started laughing to myself at this.  Compared to me, all of them would look sane and normal.  People would forever remember my name and fear it and the implications it carried with it.  When a kid brought a gun to school and shot a couple of his classmates, people would talk about how horrible it was and what a tragedy it was.  But they’d also say, “At least it wasn’t as bad as Sikow.”

        This made me smile for some sick reason.

        “I must have missed the joke,” said an all too familiar voice to my side.

        “Glad you could be here for the apocalypse, Fox.”

        “Well Johnny, I don’t see you on a pale horse so I’m betting this isn’t the end of it all.  Got a light?” Fox said as he pulled out a cigarette.

        I laughed.