Your Midweek Update for 06/22/22

Things with Ben are definitely what I’d called “honeymoon”. When we’re not fucking, we’re killing – and I’d definitely call it a rampage. Every night these past few weeks, we’ve been going out dancing, or hunting, or scoping out a potential victim. Most nights, I’m not walking in the door until after midnight. I’m exhausted in the best way. His stamina is incredible. Even in my 30s, I couldn’t butcher two men in one night. The strength it takes. Especially since he says he’s not prone to violent murders. He prefers poisons and strangulation – and when I tell I’ve been fantasizing about those forearms ever since… - things that are cleaner and not automatically attributed to large men like him. But for me, he wrapped those short, meaty, fingers around a cleaver and disposed to two business men right in front of me. There is little I haven’t done already when it comes to murder but it felt so good to have an arm wrapped around my waist while I pierced a woman’s eyeball with her own stiletto heel. I can’t even say I’ve missed it because I’ve never had it in the first place. It’s been just over a week since I found out about Ben and already, I know I’m becoming addicted to his touch. How could I not? All any of us have ever wanted is a partner; someone who understands and supports every aspect of our lives. And to meet someone so intimately familiar with my desires and needs (and are able to meet them) is so rare. And I’ve been lonely. I’m not sure if you noticed that from my weeks of pining and wailing but this year has sucked. I’ve had to relearn so many things. I’ve had to start over but this time, I’ve had to do it alone. It’s nice to talk to someone who understands. Casey is still learning. And she’s my daughter, we will never be equals. But Ben? He is a whole god damn person who makes me feel seen. I am so glad I didn’t kill him. I know this is the honeymoon phase and something will inevitably throw a wrench in my plans for a happy life, but can I just enjoy it while it lasts? For however long it lasts? Don’t I deserve to be happy?

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Midweek Update for 15/06/22

I’ve been looking for a partner in all things for so long that I don’t think I ever wondered what would happen if I found someone who fit the bill.

You all remember Ben. The boy toy who gives good head? Well the funniest thing happened last Friday. I was on my way home from work and feeling horny so I decided to stop by Benny Boy’s work at the library – because yes, I am fucking a sexy librarian – but his coworkers said he had just started his break. I went around to the staff parking lot, hoping to catch a quicky before he was back on the clock and I saw him walking around the corner so, naturally, I followed him.

And I kept following him and I kept following him. Suddenly we were on the other side of the train tracks in a poorly monitored area of the city – something I clocked very early on in my stay here. My first thought is that he had some sort of drug problem which is technically none of my business but it might cause some tension.

But I was proven wrong when he walked up to a man on his smoke break, spoke to him for about 30 seconds, shook his hand, and then walked away. The man suddenly began to have trouble breathing, he then collapsed to the ground as though he had no control of his limbs and shortly after, he died. I’m amazed I didn’t clock it sooner because it’s a method I used to use all the time – although it’s definitely become less popular in the post-pandemic world.

There’s a vein in your left palm that people used to say connects your ring finger to your heart. Science says that’s not true but there are some lovely veins that do travel through your wrist and make their way back to your heart with few detours (Casey says it’s the cephalic vein which made me laugh for 20 minutes). With a little prick, you can send poison almost directly to their heart.

I had to keep following him after that. I just had to know. But obviously I wasn’t as sneaky as I thought because I suddenly found myself dragged into a mall entrance and shoved against a wall.

I have never seen Ben looking so feral. So dangerous. So. Fucking. Hot.

I asked him where he got his hands on botulism and that seemed to stun him to his senses. We went for coffee, sat in the park, and we talked. For hours. He told me about how he started poisoning residents in his grandmother’s nursing him when he was a teenager. To him, what he was doing was a mercy and the more he looked at the world, the more he realized more than just the elderly were in need of “mercy”. He’s been killing people ever since. Not as many and not as often but he enjoys it. I could see it in his eyes as he talked about the woman last year who bled from her eyes. He was so passionate as he talked about his victims. I told him about my own career, or at least the highlights. Something to let him know that he can trust me because we’re the same. After a while we walked back to the library – and yes, he just skipped the last half of his shift but he hasn’t been reprimanded yet so I think his coworkers think he was just getting laid for 4 hours.

He did but much later (and not for 4 hours, jesus christ).

On the way to our vehicles, I demonstrated my own passion for the craft by stabbing a barista in the femoral artery. The way he looked at me… only James has ever looked at me with such desire. And admiration. I have never felt so seen.

We have a date tonight. We’re going down to the river to find a late-night jogger and kill them. Together. I haven’t had that before. A partner. Someone who understands how it feels and why I love it so much.

I know how incredible it is that we’ve found each other. There are about 4000 active serial killers in the world and of the 7 billion people walking around, the odds of two killers finding each other is… astronomically low.

Feels a little bit like fate.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Midweek Update for 06/08/22

 Tell me why there is a Karen in every town who thinks of herself as an amateur detective but really they're just a nosy little bitch who doesn't understand the concept of boundaries. 

I caught a neighbour at the motel digging through the trash which in and of itself isn't suspicious but then she looked at me and her eyes lit up. Over the next few days, I kept seeing her everywhere - even away from the motel, The woman was the worst stalker ever. And I've encountered a lot of stalkers in my time. 

Why am I bragging about the amount of people that have caught on to my lifestyle? 

This latest woman clearly has too much time on her hands and not enough brain cells to realize that she's in danger. I turned and caught her eye across the street and she fucking waved. She doesn't realize - or maybe she doesn't care - how easy it would be to turn the tables. To lose her in a back alley and corner her like the prey she is. Gut her from her belly button to her goose neck. 

I'm not even particularly worried about her finding anything in my trash - honestly, does she think I'm that new? She just pisses me off. The audacity of this woman is just staggering. She has to die. 

And it's the same everywhere I go. Every town has someone who's watched too many crime dramas and thinks they can solve a crime all on their own. 

Fucking Nancy Drew building false expectations.

No one is that lucky and no one's care stays in that nice condition. And what the hell is strawberry blonde? Those are two different colours! 

Anyways, if Karen bothers me one more time, I will be fileting her alive. I have no more patience for people who consider my life entertaining. Aside from you, dear readers, because I'm offering this information to you willingly. You're not peering through my window at 7am trying to catch me in the act. Or if you are, you should know better. Fans don't live long. I sincerely hope it's not one of you. My Reader Views are low enough as it is since Jason left. Literally murdering my own fan base seems like overkill - and I would know. 

Too on the nose? I claim to be a prolific serial killer, not an epic writer. In any case, Karen will likely die later this week so if she is a reader... sorry?

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Midweek Update for 06/01/22

When you love so deeply and you can't imagine doing anything else for the rest of your life. The great love affair. The thing I am most passionate about. I want to share it with everyone. Talk about it constantly. Think about it even more. Live and breathe it, embody it because even at its worst it is still better than being without it. I can't even imagine being without it. I couldn't breathe. It's impossible to do anything else because all roads lead back home. And it is home. Comforting, familiar, safe and yet exciting because being with the thing I love the most is the most exciting thing in the world. I never wondered if another could take its place. The prospect of leaving completely brings me to my knees but stepping back isn't so terrifying. Allowing room in my heart for something else - not replacing just sharing - is something I could absolutely explore. With less absolutism than my wording implies. But I would be willing to change, I suppose, for the right thing. Nothing has ever come close to comparing so it's never been an issue. But I have this fear in my heart that one day I will have to decide if I can make room in my fearful heart for something else. And will it be by choice or by force? Will I be allowed to walk away, or take a step back at my own pace? Will that be easier or harder than being forced apart by fate? At least then I can look back and have someone to blame. It might ease the burden of regret to have someone to blame. Besides, a great love like this could not fathomably end by anything other than farce. Even if it causes me pain and sorrow, I would choose it every time. Love outweighs all others. So I suppose, for all my concessions, I couldn't give up even a fraction of heart to another. It is all or nothing. Until the day I die.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Your Midweek Update for 05/25/22

When I cut off all ties with my husband and left in the middle of the night, I did not expect to miss him so much. I’m typing this while another man sleeps in my bed – Ben, I know, but he gives good orgasms – and yet, all I can think about his James.

That’s not even what I was going to talk to you about this week. I was going to talk about the cashier who was found absolutely butchered in the back alley of a local convenience store. I mean someone had hacked away at his stomach until his ribcage was bare and his floating ribs were missing because someone accidentally nicked them with the knife and had to put them through the incinerator.

Next time, give me correct change and don’t argue with me when I politely ask you to double check your work.

But I’m not even in the mood to tell you about that because after I murdered the cashier, I called Ben, we had slightly exhausted sex, and as I lay awake after begrudgingly letting him sleep over, all I could think about was the dumpster in the alley.

I had initially wanted to throw the cashier’s body in the dumpster. Even if his body was discovered before trash collection took him away, he wouldn’t have been discovered the next day and identification wouldn’t have been so simple. I tried to drag him in by myself but his organs were splashing all over the place and I was just making a mess so I left him sitting against the dumpster. I am a strong woman but dead bodies are heavy – especially when they’ve been opened in the middle. It’s like trying to carry a full casserole dish with wax paper.

A kill like that would have been a lot easier with a partner. Sure, I could have called Casey but I realize that she’s only got a few more months of school before she’s potentially off on her own. It would only been one more month of school but between the kidnapping and the separation, she has a few grades to make up before she can graduate.

I’m very cognizant of the fact that this is around the age where I lose my children. And if, for whatever reason, she does leave, I will be well and truly alone. My parents are gone, my sister is in the wind, my husband has broken my heart and I will be alone.

I don’t know specifically what it was about this particular kill – beyond having to admit that I can’t deadlift a bowl of unset Jell-O over my shoulder – but it the loneliness struck me in a way it hasn’t for a while.

I miss my partner. I miss having a partner. Someone who has my back when I’m out doing the one thing that brings me joy. James was my partner in everything and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever find that with someone else.

Maybe I’ll ask Ben how he feels about carrying overcooked spaghetti and meatballs in a dollar store paper plate.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Author Roma Cordon Reveals Her Top 5 Books

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Your Midweek Update for 05/18/22

When I was seventeen, I murdered a man – a boy, really. I took a football cleat and I thrust it into the back of his head. I did it because I wanted to and for no other reason. Someone was always going to be my first; why not him?

The next day at school, I feigned shock and sorrow when they gathered us outside to announce to the student population that one of our own had been taken. It was a murder too brutal for any of his peers to be considered a subject so the police turned their attention upwards.

A few weeks after the boy’s death, they arrested the gym teacher, Mr. S. Apparently, Mr. S. had been sleeping with one of his students and it was no large leap to assume that he’d committed murder to keep his secrets hidden. I allowed Mr. S. to go to prison for my crimes because he was already a bad man and I wanted to continue killing.

Years later, I ran into someone I went to school with – whom time remembers as friends but I doubt we had spoken a word to one another. I learned from them that shortly after his imprisonment, Mr. S. committed suicide upon learning that the girl he’d raped was pregnant. That girl later gave birth to a baby boy whom she gave up for adoption.

When I was thirty, I ran into a young boy who looked familiar in a way I couldn’t place. Or rather, he ran into me. Stained one of my favourite skirts and honestly, if he were ten years older, I likely would have killed him for that. But I didn’t because even I have my lines I will never cross. But he was sweet and he apologized so how could I resist letting him live? His parents, on the other hand, are a couple I deeply regret letting seeing the sunrise.

They were rude and spoke in harsh words but any attempt at logic was met with force. We were in too public a place, I couldn’t kill them, but I wanted to. I imagined slicing their sternum open and peeling their skin like a banana until all their organs fell out.

I followed them for a few days before I followed them all the way to the airport and I lost my chance.

Sometimes I would wonder what happened to that little boy.

I was thinking about those two stories this week. In all likelihood, they have nothing to do with each other but there’s just the slightest chance that fate keeps people together – keeps bringing them back into your circle even when you don’t realize it.

Casey was essentially a gift from my husband but she is one of the best things to ever happen to me. And on top of that, she brought me closer to my sister and some closure with my mother. I never knew how much I was missing her until I met her.

Casey has a brother. A half-brother, actually. They share a mother. He had left home before she murdered their parents and had fleeting contact with him before that. She saw him on the local news the other day. He was running a centre for at-risk youth and was promoting his facility. At her insistence, we went to find him so she could see if her big brother was really all right.

I should blame her for keeping family secrets but I understand. Some stories are too painful to mention.

He was over the moon to find out his sister was alive. He’d heard of the death of their parents but hadn’t bothered to attend the funeral for reasons he didn’t have to mention. The two of them reconnected and while Casey has been omitting a lot of the details, she seems lighter. Talking with her big brother, even if she can’t be completely honest, has brought back an airiness to her walk.

I can’t believe she’s seventeen, nearly eighteen, now. The same age I was when first started. Her brother – Jonah – is about ten years older than her.

It’s perfectly reasonable to assume that the three stories are a coincidence. The child born in the scandal of my first kill. The young boy deserving of a better life. The young man in front of me trying to change the world he grew up in. They’re three completely different people.

But I can’t help but wonder.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

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Author Natasha Alterici Picks Favourites

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Your Midweek Update for 04/27/22

Is time blindness a symptom of COVID? I woke up yesterday and was absolutely certain that it was Saturday. I realized in time for work but then I was absolutely certain, again, that it was Thursday. If you would have told me it was Tuesday, I would have fought you on it.

I don’t understand how the mind works and why it occasionally decides to stop working. It’s not as though anything unusual has happene

…

I realized as I was typing just how wrong that statement was going to be. Again, I know something is wrong because I forgot that stress can affect sleep and lack of sleep causes memory loss.

See, I know science things. Usually only science things that pertain to murder but also non-murder science things.

I know why I’ve been tired and erratic lately – and you all do, too. I’m just a little tired of being…tired. What I wouldn’t give to be able to go back in time to the way it was before I knew the truth.

Not even to before the love of my life fell in love with someone else. I think if I could live in blissful ignorance forever, I would. It’s incredibly selfish of me to ask him to fide his feelings but I would make that request over and over again if it meant I could think about it without throwing someone off a ledge with tears in my eyes. I wouldn’t be forgetting the days if my life hadn’t been completely upended.

I know you’ve heard me bitch about all this before but you may be surprised to learn this heartbreak doesn’t go away over night. I was certainly shocked. Most of my break ups ended in murder. How was I to know?

Casey, for the most part, is enjoying this new town – this anonymity. She still so young and excited about murder. She’s building her own routines, making her own mistakes and cleaning them up herself. For the most part. I did have to flush a toe down a Starbucks toilet but all’s well that ends well. She’s coming into her own and I’m so proud of her. I just feel like I’m not at 100% so how can I enjoy it?

I want to be happy for her – I am happy for her – but I just don’t… feel it.

What am I supposed to do?

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe