Wednesday 26 August 2020

Your Mid-Week Update for 08/26/20

I tried to write an update last week but it was just a series of incoherent swearing. Even now, I don’t know what good telling you will do for me. I feel lost and scared and hurt and angry and I don’t know what to do next.

Heather lied to me – to us – about the reason she called me that day. You remember when she called me at five o’clock in the morning, drunk off her ass, and I drove five hours each way to pick her up? And she told me she was lonely and scared and the police had found her husband’s body but she was ultimately exonerated? And then I welcomed her into my home for months and let her be a part of my family because she was my best friend and I missed her and I cared about her?

It was all bullshit.

Nope, that’s a lie: the day I came to pick her up, she was drunk.

We drove out to pick up some of her things last week – seeing as I was sure that she’d be with us for a while. As I was helping her pack, I found a box under her bed that she tried very hard to keep me from looking in (which, of course, meant that I had to look in it). I thought it would be dildos or a gun or some embarrassing school photos.

It was my journals.

My fucking journals that someone stole while I was on the run with my family. The journals that contain all the evidence anyone would need to destroy my life.

Heather had them this entire time and she never told me. I asked her about it, because I was not about to let her back with my family unless I knew I could trust her. I don’t know what I expected her excuse to be, but I was not expecting her to tell me that she had been approached by the police last year, saying they had proof that she’d murdered her husband and used it as leverage to get information on me.

Apparently, she refused to help and when she wasn’t arrested, she realized that it was a trap. So, she went to the house and searched for evidence of my crimes and took them. She’s been keeping my secret ever since.

Except earlier this year, she was contacted by a woman who said she was with the FBI and knew all about our relationship and actually convinced Heather to spy on me.

That was her big reveal. She’s been recording my family’s activities for months, gathering information. The only reason she hasn’t turned us in yet is because apparently, she loves us more.

That’s what she said.

“I love you all too much to betray you.”

Like a fucking soap opera.

I don’t know what to believe anymore. I’ve seen the call logs and read her notes and it seems she’s been telling the truth – after a few weeks living with us, she cut off all communication. We didn’t do anything of note in that time and we don’t know if they actually were FBI.

Considering I’m not writing to you from the electric chair, it’s safe to say that something else is going on. But I don’t know what to do. I’ve taken Heather with me and we got James and Casey to stay home for the next few weeks. The four of us are holed up in the house claiming a need to quarantine, while I think of a plan to confirm whether or not my family is in danger again.

I’m starting to wonder if this murder business is more trouble than it’s worth.

As for Heather, she’s locked in the basement, well fed and clothed with plenty of things to do. But she’s not going anywhere until I decide what to do with her.

What would you do if your best friend betrayed you – and you had to ability to hide the body?

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Wednesday 12 August 2020

Your Mid-Week Update for 08/12/20

The house has become a rather unusual place over the last few weeks. Between inviting Heather into my home out of some (deserved, I suppose) guilt for ruining her life, Casey having to go back to school, and James back to work full time, there hasn’t been a real sense of normalcy lately.

Also it’s my birthday today. 43 years old and no fucking clue what I’m doing with my life other than murdering people and taking in strays.

If only either of those things was a viable career option.

And we have been killing a fair bit, lately. 2 or 3 people per week (which was my average at the peak of my obsession). It’s not always as a family – I do still enjoy my private time – but the time we do spend together, the four of us, is really nice.

Like this most recent murder.

Actually, it was a pair this time. Two joggers at the local park, not wearing masks, flipped off Casey when she suggested that they should. A little girl. My little girl. They had to go.

I let Casey take the lead since this was obviously her kill but James and I were there every step of the way, to guide her through what technique she wanted and the best tools for the job. It was comically easy to get to them since all we had to do was follow them home and sneak in the back door while they were resetting the alarm.

Usually, we would take them back home but this seemed like the quickest method to get what he wanted – plus it gave Casey some practice on improvisation and using her surroundings. She knows what we have to kill people with, but what can she use to strangle someone or peel off their toenails.

In a show of irony that I was very proud of, she had us all don masks (including our belligerent couple, whose masks were also stuffed tight so no one could hear their muffled screams) and then she started at their toes and worked her way up. With each limb, she would alternate between a hammer, a meat tenderizer (I told you, they were excellent tools), and a pair of tweezers she kept in a bowl of boiling water when not in use, to break bones, and pull out anything that broke through the skin.

It was innovative, painful, and agonizingly long but the joy on her face filled me with such pride.

I know I’ve said this before, but having someone in the house who really understands what I do, has been a weight off my chest like I never imagined.

The family that tortures together…

Actually, I’ve been thinking about that, as well. I’m a little worried we’re becoming the torture family of our generation. Every few decades (at least), there’s a group of people who terrorize part of all of their country with their murder spree. As much fun as I’m having, I really don’t want to become that family.

It never ends well for the leader.

Still, if you’d looked at that little girl’s blood-soaked face and saw the glee and desperate need for approval, you’d give in to the cultish nature of your family dynamic just to keep her smiling.

So for now, nothing changes.

But damn, do changes need to come soon.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Wednesday 5 August 2020

Your Mid-Week Update for 08/05/20

We’re going to breeze right past the part where I might be sexually attracted to Heather and instead, I’m going to tell you about the time I stuffed a body in a tree.

Now, me and bodies and woods, are not an uncommon theme but surely, I’ve instilled in you by now that when it comes to murder: the elements are your friend. The only thing better at destroying evidence might be a politician in an election year.

I’m not good with the political satire. Moving on.

This was while James and I were dating so I would have just turned 30, and I was slowly introducing him to my world. A lot of our early days were about me figuring out what his limits were. So, I’d tell him about a kill and see what his reaction was. Then I’d let him see the aftermath. Then I’d show him things (evidence). Then I’d let him tag along but not participate. At any given moment, I was a minute away from slicing his throat if he proved to be untrustworthy.

I would have done it, too. I had no qualms about killing James when we first started out. He wasn’t a potential partner then, he was a tool; a pawn, to help cover my tracks within the police department. If that tool proved to be useless, I would have no need of it.

But nothing I did seemed to phase him. He loved every part of me. So, I kept pushing – kept doing the most outlandish kills to see if I could break him. He never did. Finding someone who loves you because of your quirks and not despite them is a wonderful feeling. Apparently, it’s also dangerous.


It was during that testing period, that I invited James out to a cabin in the woods for the weekend.

That, in itself, was a test. A known serial killer inviting you to a secluded area outside the city? All kinds of red flags. He was in the car at 7:30am, precisely when I asked him to be there, two coffee in hand, like this was just a casual road trip. Which it was meant to be. Just because the threat of death loomed over him, didn’t mean we couldn’t enjoy ourselves.

That was actually a really good trip for us. We lost the radio signal about two hours away from the cabin and instead of turning someone’s music on, we just talked. On the back into the city, we didn’t even bother turning the radio on and spent the entire drive talking. If that cabin hadn’t already cemented our relationship, our drive home would have.

As it was, we had an amazing time up in the woods.

For one: there was no one around for miles, so neither of us were worried about grumpy neighbours telling us to fuck quieter (Mrs. Portias was a horrible woman who deserved to die anyways, and then she filed a noise complain with the city).

Two: I got to try out a new tenderizer which worked like a dream on those leg and calf muscles.

Three: It was the first time James made suggestions (and in that voice that told me he wasn’t asking), successfully combining the first two points.

Despite there being no one for miles, there was a hiking trail maybe a twenty-minute drive from the cabin, which is why I chose that cabin (that, and the fact that there is and never will be a record of my family staying there since it doesn’t exist on paper).

Why didn’t I go there when my family was on the run?

Fuck you, that’s why.

We made our way to the trail, stashing the car safely out of sight, and walked about a third of the way in to wait for a passing victim. Sure enough, we grabbed a woman who was just a little too far behind her group of friends and took off before anyone had even noticed. That’s not normally how I would have done it – considering that method takes a bit more brute force than I have – but James was happy to help in that department, dragging the woman out of view while I stabbed her with a syringe filled with bleach. No sense in dragging around an unconscious body only to kill her later, when you can just kill her now.

The three of us went deep into the woods just as the sun was setting; the light on the trees was gorgeous, I wish we could have taken a photo. Alas. There, we came upon a hollow tree and I just had to go with it. Initially, we were going to severely deform her body and leave it for the animals to get at before anyone found her, but when you find a hollow tree and you remember the story of Bella and the Wych Elm, you have to follow through.

Whoever did put Bella in the Wych Elm, had a lot more time and strength than we did. We knew it wouldn’t be long before her friends noticed she was missing and would find her phone in the trees leading away from us. Soon enough, someone would head in our direction looking for her; so we had to act quickly. The meat tenderizer was an amazing tool for helping to shrink her down to proper size. Because, obviously, the hole in which to stuff a woman into a tree isn’t completely human-sized so you have to get a little tetris-y.

All the while, James was standing against the tree, watching me; telling me what part to fold next or just admiring my handywork. I may have been a little overly-aggressive with my hit because I just loved the way he talked to me.

Though it took more time than I would have liked, I did eventually get her followed up into a neat little ball and James helped me toss her in. We just barely missed the search party and skirted around the outside of the flashlights on our way back to the car. We were gone before anyone saw the headlights.

That night may have been the best sex we’d had up to that point. Because there is something just so intoxicating in giving over a bit of control to someone who won’t abuse it. And finding someone who knows all the horrible parts of your but still wants you…yeah. It’s a powerful aphrodisiac.

I think that’s what’s been going on with Heather, lately. Because it wasn’t just that one incident. It’s been…lingering. Don’t know what it means but like I said, we’re not going to talk about it.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe