Raquídea

I know what I’ve done, the bad things, terrible, awful, murderous things. I regret them now, but I liked how they felt. I wish I didn’t, but I did. At first, it was only animals smaller than myself. Nothing with feelings. Nothing that could hurt me back. It felt good. Killing’s easier than you think, till recently with Mama and the boy from the picture house. They were different. They were more meaningful. I hurt them so they too might know what it feels like to suffer, but poor Daddy didn’t deserve that. I wish I hadn’t done what I did. Mama meant well. She had a hard life. She only wanted a home to feel safe in. I can see that. I thought I hated her, but I just want to feel safe, too. Lord… I made such a mess of things. I don’t know how much more I can take. I need to clean this up. All of it.

I thought I’d gone to the limits. I hadn’t. The Cenobites gave me an experience beyond limits. Pain and pleasure, indivisible.