Archive for August, 2009

The everyday life of a murderer

Posted in Diary with tags , , , on August 25, 2009 by J.A.C.K.

This weekend I spent locked in my apartment. I am what I am, but that’s not all that I am. Although I have other necessities, maybe different from you, have you ever thought that I don’t spend every minute just killing or hunting? (unfortunately though, because I think about it all the time)

Well, what I do with my “free time” is very unusual, I noticed. I don’t have a very active social life, I don’t like it, but I have to keep the appearance to the society. I have a regular job, I’m not gonna tell you what I do right now to don’t make things easy to the so called “detectives”, but I do work. Anyone in there never suspected a thing. I don’t like people so much, it’s probably something about how I was raised, but I know if I didn’t get out with some colleagues every now and then it could call the attention. So I do it.

But what I like the most is to spend my “free time” locked alone, when I’m not looking for any entertainment. I just like the sensation of not having any contact at all with the outside world. Just me and my thoughts inside four walls.

For some reason everything that I do have a bitter taste to me, if it doesn’t involve blood. But I do like the bitter taste of reading, of thinking, but above everything, of planning my next strike, of remembering the past deaths. Every killing I have in my back, the memories of it seems to give me power, energy. I remember every detail of each one. In a way, my preys live forever with me.

I live in an apartment, not in the house that I keep my torture room. It would be too obvious, too easy to be incriminated. I don’t even live near by it. There is nothing in my apartment that’s not “normal”. It took some time for me to learn what normal is to the world, but I did learn. Maybe you are one of my “friends”. Maybe you have visited my apartment. I can assure you that you would never notice the monster inside me.

The way I have survived all this time without being caught is that I avoid the most to take the life of people that could be linked to me. Just killing random people makes it almost impossible to get caught. It’s not like I never did it, but I avoid it the best I can. All that “CSI” stuff we watch on TV makes people think that the police can solve any crime, and that’s what they want you to believe. But the truth is that they can’t. The cops may have all that technology, but they won’t use it for every crime, it would be too expensive. And without having a body, there is no way that they could get to you investigating the disappearance of someone that you are not linked with.

I am what I am because I can afford it, it’s not for everyone. Many end up in jail, I never did, never will. As I like to say, my best is my worst.

A perfect capture place

Posted in Diary with tags , , , , on August 17, 2009 by J.A.C.K.

As time passes by and I have no news about my detective “friends”, I’m relaxing and going back to my everyday routine. I have enough information of many of them, which I’ll use for my hunt in the near future. But this last week I found a great place to hunt randomly.

Sometimes I feel like going after a chosen person, sometimes I get excited with a new place for capture. Whenever I find a perfect street, an alley, anywhere that I think it is great to get new preys, I have to use it!

This week I found a street with no lights at all, located in a very rich neighborhood. At one side, it has a small descent park. At the other side, a very high wall, of an enormous mansion. And people use the sidewalk of this street to walk, exercise. And I never saw a cop in there, at least during this time I was watching it.

So I got a motorcycle, drove to the park in the dusk, hid it in one of the bushes. I waited hidden in there too. I left my car some blocks from there, in a desert place, but this one in bad neighborhood.

I waited about half an hour, and there it came, my perfect prey. A beautiful young girl jogging, caught by the dark. I didn’t find any camera around, but to prevent I kept my helmet on. As soon as she passed by me, I knocked her down with a piece of wood, and to guarantee I injected a substance to keep her sleeping.

I got her on the motorcycle with an extra helmet on I brought. And drove to my car. Anybody that saw me passing by with her in the bike could never tell she was passed out. I got her then into my car and left the bike in there. I bet it didn’t take much to disappear, as it was in a very bad neighborhood.

From there I went to my beautiful torture room, where I introduced to the girl my real self. She met my monster inside, as many of you will. But not by her.

More about my past

Posted in Diary with tags , , , , on August 12, 2009 by J.A.C.K.

Even with all my life experiences, after I was thrown to the outside world, I managed to become someone normal to many people. Or invisible at least, later on.

This world, the one you live in, I don’t know how can someone call it a free world. All these rules, and judgment, and punishment, persecution, financial slavery, institutions. How can someone really be what really is? Everyone becomes, sooner or later, what it is expected to become. And play a role to everyone else, so can be accepted by the others, don’t matter who the other is. That’s something I learned with time.

At first, I was really disappointed with this world I’d dreamed so much. Escaping from the prison where I lived for 12 years didn’t bring me liberty. Actually, it seemed the opposite to me. I was freer where I used to be: there are no rules and judgment among four walls. And I could notice then that I was not like the others. I had a monster inside of me that most didn’t seem to have. My thirst for blood was not “normal”, and I knew that anytime I would succumb for it, it was inevitable. For a moment I wanted to go back where I was and live where I used to live, locked in a basement. The liberty I was searching for seemed to be the isolation.

Later I noticed there was not such a thing as normal. Everyone is interpreting a character, like in a theater play, which is not necessarily what they really are. And I learned perfectly how to play my role, how to fake to fit into society. I got a real job, money, learned how to mix with the others, and most important, how to satiate my hunger without been caught.

And since then I am who I am for me, and just me, free as I wanted to be (and for a lucky few, for a moment or two). At the same time I am what you want me to be, until I introduce you to my real self anytime soon.

How to raise a serial-killer

Posted in Diary with tags , , , , , , , on August 4, 2009 by J.A.C.K.

This last week made me remember some other occasions that happened to me in the past so I decided to write it down. As I said before, I was locked into a stranger’s basement for 12 years. 12 really long years. That’s how I spent my childhood.

I was caught when I was only 5. I don’t remember much, all I know is that it was like if my father gave me, or sold me, or something like it. I was left by him at a public park, and 10 minutes after he left, this guy appeared and took me.
I never knew my mother. I don’t even know if I have one. And I don’t care. I don’t remember much before that.

This guy, I don’t even know his name. And I don’t know why he kept me. I was locked in there, in his basement, without any contact with the outside world. The “real” world for many.  It was just me, and four walls, and him somewhere, and some screams, and death, some occasional victims locked together.

He was a killer like me. I guess since I was a little kid he knew what I would become. Maybe he saw him in me. I will never understand it.

He introduced me to death, and that’s something I’m thankful. Sometimes he used to let me watch while he tortured and killed some random victim. I’ve met some of these victims, or almost met: when he used to lock them with me, there wasn’t much to meet.  They usually were not in one piece anymore, and they were always tied and gagged.

The funny thing is that I had never been afraid or disgusted, nothing like it, and I got to know it was different just after I escaped. I used to see all the killings and dismembering with a big naturalness. I guess that what mostly differs me from many.

But I always wanted to get out. I thought I would be free if I escaped, that I would be able to do whatever and everything I always wanted. Later I realized it wasn’t what I imagined.

I was alone for all this time, thinking on how to get out.
So one day he proved of his own medicine. Maybe that’s what he always wanted, and that’s the reason why he kept me. He was my first toy. First of many.