Chapter Text
Chapter 1
To be human is to be evil.
He stared down at the unmoving body below him, its breathing barely noticeable , only shown by unsteady the rise and fall of its chest. His face formed a sinister grin as he watched the life slowly drain from the dark eyes boring into his, becoming almost doll-like. At first it was just a quick exhale of breath ,a sigh if you will, but that soon became a chuckle then full blown laughter. He couldn’t believe how easy it was to kill something that claims to be so ‘advanced’, he felt like a god next to these imbecelic things. Head cradled in his hand, doubled over in fits of laughter one would assume normal for a teenage group of girls, he didn’t notice the approaching footsteps. The silent gasp of a person being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
An echoing snap diverted his attention from his new toy, to the hallway behind him. There stood a girl, nothing very noticeable about it in his opinion, not interesting enough to be a threat, but still. It saw him laughing. It heard his voice. That wasn’t allowed. The poor young thing tried to run ,they all did, stupid really. He was obviously taller than it by at least a head , he would easily catch up in seconds. Although this realisation didn’t seem to cross its adolescent mind as its tear-shined eyes darted around for any exit besides the one it came. What he didn’t expect, though, was the child to be fast- a track runner, perhaps? Oh well, he didn’t care anyways, this only makes the chase more fun.
Unsurprisingly, it went for the window leading into the woods, why do they always think that's a safe bet? Do they not realise that their shoes leave footprints on the ground? It’s like hunting deer, obvious , fun, and a little challenging. In full honesty, he will never understand these things that call themselves human, they claim to be smart and advanced in technology and hunting while they can’t even make simple, untraceable ways to escape an environment.
Whilst he was lost in thought the girl came to a clearing of trees with a river passing through the north of the area. Of course if she followed that, the flow of the water would lead it back to a village nearby-probably its hometown-,but it won’t have time to do so in the end. By the time it seems to come to this realisation he’s already behind her, footsteps light and silent on the overgrown forest floor. “You’ll need more than that to outrun me, dear”
The distorted, inhumane voice behind it seemed to derail all thoughts in that tiny head as it swivelled around only to come face to face with a glinting, razor-sharp piece of metal, aimed straight at its throat.
His chest had fluttered with hope that this one would be different when it didn’t run as he announced his presence, but that hope was short-lived as the ( frankly stupid) thing reached out to touch the blade at which it’s being held by point. Nothing , not one of any of these animals he’s hunted has ever reached out to harm itself.
Maybe he did underestimate its stupidity as its hand reels back when it cuts itself on the weapon it reached for, as though it was expecting a flower or a pillow. Either way, his toy was going to stiffen if he didn't return soon. A small , almost imperceptible swish of his wrist and the young dear’s neck was sliced open, blood spurted onto his clothes and face. A horror scene perfect for any movie. While, yes, this was one of his kills, he didn’t care for it. The thing was stupid, young and , most importantly, innocent. One rule is all he follows and that is what he has broken tonight, that will need punishment tomorrow.
When he finally returns to his doll, he has a minute to preserve it and play or it won’t be fun anymore. A small process to re-loosen the muscles in his doll and it’s time for the games to begin. He starts with the fingers, twisting each into different shapes , making patterns and thoroughly burning them of any skin whatsoever from the fingernail to the knuckle. Next, the arms which get completely severed from the body. Then the torso, legs and finally the head, all injuries differ from the last. Never repeating the same punishment twice. This slow process of mutilating the corpse goes on for hours, the one responsible having a fun time taking it apart and carving patterns into the torso and legs. No matter what , he is always sure to make his patterns random so the police have no clue to what his motives even may be. The victims' bodies always differ. For example his last one was missing its eyeballs , the one before that lost its hands and the one before that was completely drawn , quartered and strung up onto the highest branch he could reach.
That was his favourite bit, removing everything they had that aided their crime. There is no other way to deal with evil things. The justice system is rigged and faulty , if you have money or a good family you can escape scott free but if you are deemed different from society you are targeted and wrongfully prosecuted for the crimes of a popular, white, male that is favoured for all the wrong reasons.
The only way to obtain justice is to punish those who commit crimes with torture , pain and death. Whether this be psychological or physical depends on the person and how easily they may break. Although ,further proving his point that humans are weak, none of them have ever lasted more than two days in his capable hands of justice.The latest barely reached the two hour mark before it was begging to be let go, to be spared. So he did. He spared it of any more pain.
Blood was a pain to remove, it stuck to his skin like it belonged there and the smell made him want to puke. That poor young thing had gotten a proper burial, marked headstone and everything, from him. It was never correct to punish one so innocent, so young, so inspirable.
A punishment is always to be made when he does not follow the rules. Punishment is the backbone of society and to be productive is to be fair. If he commits the crime but does not receive the penalty then society will fall back into the hands of the worst. For this specific night the justice is pain and beauty all in one (if you can ever separate one from the other in the first place), the child had a drawing along its arm. It was a beautiful piece of artwork with wisps of smoke and skeletons and to allow her memory to live on he will re-carve it into his arm.
When he reached for his knife, his hands shook. Not just a simple tremor in the muscles but full blown trembling, as though he was scared of punishment. But that would be absurd, even if it was true that does not stop justice from taking what is rightfully theirs. No real human would ever be scared of a penalty they deserved. It can’t be, he can’t be scared, fear is useless and stupid and human. He is not human.
Even with his inner turmoil, his thoughts did not stop his throat from drying up, his palms moistening and the tremors which usually racked his body to increase in strength and size. Any human would think this to be insanity, the obsession for justice and equality, but he believes that it is just common sense. The way a child knows to look both ways before crossing a road, or the way most know to look for the cheaper version of a brand before buying their shopping for the week.
The first slice made, the first droplet of blood to fall, relieves his feelings from him, quietens his thoughts until they are no more than a whisper. It feels good, that shouldn’t happen, so he digs deeper until all he can feel is the pain, no more, no less.Continuously checking his picture of the girl’s arm, the sketch begins to take form on his skin, each detail corresponding to the ones on the ,now buried, body.
When the drawing is completely carved into his skin, after taking a minute to admire the knifeskills of his left hand,which frankly is beautiful.The young thing will forever be remembered in a scar that will never fade. It will stay for eternity, he will carve it into his bones if he has too, but she will get justice. He’s incredibly thankful to have the forethought to sit on top of two towels. Even though a pool had formed around him, cleaning would be easy.Just pick the towels up, handwash them, place them in the washer and done, the stains nearly invisible on the navy blue fabric. Night had fallen by the time he had cleaned all traces of his presence, his toy preserved and left as a present for his favourite detective. The apartment he lived in was dark, but well taken care of. He made sure the bed was always made, no mess could ever be seen and that the plants were always in a healthy condition.Even if he wasn’t there a lot of the time every living organism there was still breathing to this day. Enough of that though, he was not staying at his apartment tonight, he had to check on his siblings.
The oldest of them were both 14, twins with very different upbringings but still twins nonetheless. The youngest barely being 10. He loved all of his siblings dearly, they held a place in his heart nothing else had ever taken and they would stay there, no matter if they found his ‘afterschool’ activities or not.
Either way, they were all asleep by now, it was nearly three o’clock , the witching hour, none of them would dare to be awake now. The walk back was long but peaceful, a simple nature trek most of the way. Trees and flowers all passed him by, each thriving in their own way, never noticing his presence or seeming to understand the difference in his from any other they experience.Every few minutes he leaves a footprint in the opposite direction, an indication to the next body. His heartbeat races as he thinks of how they’ll find it. Will they find the body quickly, will they spend days searching until they find the exact resting place of that disgusting thing.Will they find that young dear or will it be left for all eternity, never missed, never even being noticed as gone.Will its body become a skeleton and be eaten in its unofficial grave or will it be buried, cremated after its family say their goodbyes. If it is found will they think that it was the next to be punished or will they recognise his pattern. Will they understand that it was a necessity to kill or will they think him the monster he had vowed never to be. No, he is not human, but he will never be a monster, he will never be like them. He knows of justice, he brings justice. A monster is one who does not understand, who does not see humans for what they really are. He is no monster, he is nothing and everything all at once. A ghost in the back of your story and the god that controls everything from the universe to each individual atom. He is the wind in your hair, the invisible child that each family has, one so important but never noticed, one who holds everything together from the sidelines, never looking for praise and never receiving it.Just being.Just making it to the next day, wondering if this will be the day you are seen.
The village is quiet, desolate at so late into the night- or early into the morning. Shop windows were covered, flower displays brought inside, the bill board boasting of Jesus and the bible dim and haunted in the dark. It’s a funny thing, religion. Why do humans have it?To make themselves feel better?To provide an explanation?Because they can do that all on their own. Or is it the control of it all? Do humans enjoy being able to put others down, claim a high position and flaunt it over all those less fortunate.Religion draws the lines of good and evil, holy acts and sin, but to draw this is to draw control. To claim to be holy is to claim you are better than the rest, that you should be revered and respected. All because you think a god has claimed you as something of pure good. Something that you can never be, because humans are not good. Humans are evil. To be evil is to be human, to be human is to be evil. But to be human you must also be good. A real human understands concepts of good and evil, martyrship and sin, and recognises you cannot have one without the other. A real human knows they will never be truly good, but tries anyways, they make mistakes and punish themselves for it, never making that mistake again and taking justice into their own hands. That is what it is like to be human and he knows this because he has spent many years of his life studying them, watching their movements, analysing their words and he still does not truly understand. Humanity is a mystery to all, something so complex and sincere that no-one, not a human nor an outsider, will ever understand what is truly a human being.