Wednesday, 10 August 2022

Your Midweek Update for 08/10/22

When I was in juvenile detention, I had one really good friend: Zainab. She was really loud and kind of pushy but she always looked out for me and he bonded over our love of Shawn Mendes. I never had to hide myself from her. She understood why I killed my foster father, and I understood why she robbed a supermarket afterhours using her shitty older brother’s manager keys. I found a kindred spirit in the most unlikely of places. A few months into my stay there, I wanted to do something nice for her. But it turned out to be one of the worst things I’ve ever done.

I gave Zainab one of my shivs. And I taught her how to use it. I taught her how to find the floating ribs and dig into the fleshy part, I taught her to never go straight for the heart because you’re more likely to hit breastbone. I taught her that cutting off their means to cry or flee was more important than surprising them. I taught her how to defend herself and live her life.

Well one day, a fight broke out in the yard and a guard got hurt.

I say “he got hurt” but he actually tripped and scratched his cheek on the wall. But the administration was out for blood and some people got brought in for questioning. They took Zainab – even though she wasn’t anywhere near the fight – and while they were questioning her, they searched her bunk and found her shiv.

She got blamed for “attacking” a guard and sent her to a “proper” institution. She got sent to a women’s prison down south even though she wasn’t legally an adult and she didn’t do what they thought she did. But she was a threat and a problem they didn’t want to deal with so they just threw her away. My only real friend in that place.

I stabbed that guard less than a year later and I made my escape. But I never saw Zainab again.

And then yesterday, I see her face on a wanted poster in the post office, saying she’d escaped from holding and was wanted for the assault of three officers on top of her original crime. I couldn’t believe it.

I didn’t actually realize that people still put wanted posters up. I thought that only happened in movies from the 50s. And before you ask: I was buying packing tape for mom’s boxes – that’s why I (a Gen Z) was in a post office.

But there was my friend posted up there for the world to see. It said she’d run about two years ago but had recently been spotted in the area. I’m still just kind of stuck on the idea that I could possibly see my friend again and I can’t stop smiling. I screwed her over so badly when we were kids and I just want to make it up to her. Even if she hates me or tries to kill me, I just want a chance to apologize.

I could really use a friend right now.

So Zainab, I have no idea where you are but I really hope I find you first.

Sincerely,

Casey

Tuesday, 9 August 2022

Excerpt of The Seven Hungers by Morgan Quaid

I am thrilled to be hosting a spot on the THE SEVEN HUNGERS by Morgan Quaid Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!

 

Wednesday, 3 August 2022

Your Midweek Update for 08/03/22

I was thinking about this today so I thought I would share it with y’all. I love killing men. Obviously, I love killing everyone but I especially love slaughtering middle-aged men. It’s something I don’t think my mom really understood. She was much more indiscriminate with her kills because it wasn’t about making a conscious effort, it was about the physical and emotional release that comes with wringing someone’s neck until their skin turns blue. I still really like that part but I do make some small effort to target men.

In addition to the high you get from murder, there’s also a bit of a release that comes from disrupting the power dynamic. The one advantage to being a female serial killer is that people – especially men – disregard your presence. If they don’t think of you as a threat, they will let their guard down. But despite some people’s thinking: I am not committing murder 24/7. It’s actually only 3-4 hours a week. So the remaining 164 hours of my week are still spent being disregarded and treated as lesser. And with laws being written and overturned all the time (both here and abroad), it doesn’t look as though it’s going to get any better.

When I feel the urge to hunt for a victim, I actively seek out those who are in a position of power or authority. It’s one small thing I can do to bring a little balance to the world. Plus their shocked face is so much more satisfying.

I’m not trying to make a political statement or anything but also… I am?

Everything we do is a political statement, isn’t it? Just by existing, there are lawmakers who would see us punished – I’m talking about women, not killers (though some lawmakers are also against what I do on the side) – and everything from our identity to our clothes and our jobs has been fought for and won. So yes, even casual murder is a political statement and I want to treat it as such.

That doesn’t mean I won’t stab a Karen in the neck with her own pruning sheers if she tells me to turn my music down on the bus. But those are for my happiness and not the betterment of our society – well, it’s a little of both.

The point is: I want to be more deliberate in my choices because they don’t just affect me. Whether or not I like it, I am out here representing all of womankind as a female serial killer in a traditionally male position. The least I can do is use my abilities to make the world a slightly better place.

By clipping a CEO in the Achilles Heel with a scalpel I stole last time I was at the hospital.

As always, dear readers,

I’m still looking for a catch phrase