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Fantasticoe 1995

Diary of a Madman
Chad Tamez

April 3rd Tues.--
     I lost my job today. I just wasn't "making the clients happy." That's what my boss said anyway. That bitch really pisses me off. People like her walk around with their noses stuck up in the air and think they can tell everyone else to go fuck themselves. All I could think about the whole time I was in her office was how I'd like to take the finger she kept pointing at me and shove it in the paper shredder. I just sat there and nodded the whole time she yelled at me and desecrated me. I don't know what I'll do to pay the goddamn bills this month. I guess I could go down to the temp service and see what I can dig up till I get back on my feet. Well, guess I should get some sleep. Talk to you later.

11:48 p.m.

April 4th Wed.--

     I went to the temp service today...not a damn thing. All they had was work at some fast food places and some grocery stores. No thanks. The bitch at the temp place really chapped my ass. She told me I wasn't qualified for this job uptown. These fucking college grads think they have all the answers. They don't know shit about the real world. They just sit at their desk with their family pictures, and over-paid jobs and give orders. I wanted to slap that "I'm-better-than-you" smile right off her pretty face. I can't stand people like her. I could have swore I heard a voice telling me to kill the bitch. I better stop for tonight before I burst an artery.

10:49 p.m.

April 8th Sun.--

     I can't believe what I did. I don't think I meant to do it. Maybe I did; I don't know. I can barely write because I'm still shaking. I was down at Roxette's Dance Club getting plowed with the last of my spending cash. I was just sitting there, at the bar, with my drink and I noticed a bunch of women at one of the tables. They were all drinking and laughing, having a good time. I caught the eye of the red-head and she winked at me. I winked back and flipped out my tongue. She stood up and came over by me. She was beautiful and very well built. Her curly, red hair draped over her face and came down to her shoulders. She asked me if I was there by myself. I said not anymore, and reached for her hand. She pulled it away and smiled. Her smile really annoyed the shit out of me and when she asked me if I wanted to buy her a drink, I became filled with rage and almost most punched her. I managed to hold it back and I bought her one hoping to get lucky. She said thanks and then went back by her friends and they all started laughing. I was so embarrassed that I just left. When I got to my car, I heard a voice in my head. "You gotta do something. You've been letting bitches like that toy with you all your life." This voice was so real I had to look around to see if someone had actually said it. Regardless if it was real or not, it was right. I waited outside the club for that bitch and her friends to come out. When they did I followed her home. Just what I expected, she lived in a condo uptown. I watched to see which room's light went on and then I entered the complex. I knocked on her door and said it was Domino's pizza. She came to the door and recognized me instantly. She tried to slam the door, but I managed to get my foot between the door and its frame. I forced my way in, almost sending her to the ground. She screamed and ran to the phone, but I met her there. I ripped the phone out of the wall and smashed it into the side of her head. She stumbled back and landed hard on the white carpet. I straddled her and began to strike her violently with the phone still in my hand. I couldn't stop myself. I didn't want to stop. Her blood ran down either side of her head and mingled with the carpet causing a very deep pink color. I finally stopped and stared at the lifeless corpse beneath me. A grin appeared on my face expressing approval for my victory. I was careful to wipe all my prints off. I was surprised at how clearly I was able to think after what I had done. I got up and left, locking the door behind me. On the way home I was expecting to feel regret or guilt; anything. I felt nothing like that. I felt....good. I still feel good. No, I feel great; fucking great. The voice in my head reassured me on the way home that the bitch deserved it. It said society is sick...and I was giving it a cure.

3:19 a.m.

April 14th Fri.--

     Today I went to the hardware store and bought some shit to fix my sink. I still haven't found a job, but then again I really haven't looked. I've been thinking about my little incident all week. I still don't feel any remorse. In fact, I don't feel anything. I think this is going to be a very uneventful weekend.

11:23 p.m.

April 16th Sun.--

     Uneventful my ass! I went to Blockbuster to get some movies and was minding my own business when this dumb bitch took the movie I was looking at. Can you believe it? I was reading the box and she sneaked in front of me and took the movie. The last fucking copy of Natural Born Killers! I just looked at her, and she smiled and said, "Oh, were you going to take that?" Like she didn't know. I wanted to rip the movie out of her hand, but then I heard that voice again. It said, "Not like that. Don't get even like that; do it right." That's exactly what I did. I had seen her park in the back, so I checked her car and it was unlocked. The voice mentioned that it was meant to be; she was inviting me to do it; she wanted me to do it. She got in and began driving. When she pulled onto a side road I sprang up and told her to stop the car. She started crying and screaming making me hate her all that much more. Shut up! My adrenaline was racing through my body and the voice was screaming at me to do the bitch right here, right now. When the car went into park, I slammed her face against the steering column. She yelped like a little dog and was quiet. I hopped out of the car and jerked her out with me. I pulled her to a gathering of trees on the side and she started to come around. Her eyes opened only to see my fist knock them closed again. She was a pretty woman and I thought of having my way with her but then that damn voice again, "Don't! We don't have time for that shit. Just kill her. Kill the fucking bitch!" I nodded and reached for the knife in my back pocket and flicked open the nine inch blade. I looked at her helpless body in front of me and almost didn't do it...almost. But I knew I had to. I had to or the voice would never let me forget it. I plunged the knife deep into her skull; right above the bridge of her nose. It pierced with ease. I could hear the skull crack under the pressure. Blood covered her face almost instantly. I wanted to leave, but the voice had other plans. "More. We need more!" I felt my muscles tense and my hand tighten around the handle of the knife. I drew back and began slashing at her chest twenty, thirty, a hundred times. I went until the voice was happy. I had become as bloody as she was. I took her car home and cleaned it, changed clothes, and finally, exchanged her car with my own. After all that, I still forgot to grab the damn movie.

3:49 a.m.

April 18th Tues.--

     What have I become? I feel numb. Two innocent women have lost their lives by my hand. The voice in my head tells me I'm doing the right thing but I feel so numb. I'm not myself anymore. What the fuck am I saying? I have never been myself because I don't know what myself is. All my life I have been a robot being programmed: first it was my parents and then my teachers. After them it was my boss, and now...this voice. This voice in my head is fighting me and trying to run my life. I'm afraid that it might win.

10:25 p.m.

April 21st Fri.--

     Three weekends, three bodies. She shouldn't have worn that dress. That goddamn dress drove the voice crazy with hatred. All I wanted was to have a little fun to get my mind off of all the shit that's been happening. But she wouldn't go away. I think her name was Ginger or Candy or something like that. I knew she was a hooker the minute I saw her. The way she walked and talked; especially the way that she dressed. She had a body suit on underneath a see-through dress. She was beautiful. The voice told me to buy her. It wanted her, no one else. I really wanted her for sex; something I hadn't had in more months than I care to tell even you. I took her to a cheap motel and right away the voice started, "Kill her. Come on, she's a slut and she deserves it. She hates you and only wants our money. Don't let this slut get our money!" I wanted her body so bad; I was hard enough to pound nails with my cock. But I couldn't have her. She took her clothes off and spread herself out on the bed. The voice made me take her to the shower. I undressed and was embarrassed to be so hard when she hadn't even touched me yet. I told her to face the mirror and close her eyes. Standing behind her I grabbed the back of her head and smashed it into the mirror. She screamed and attempted to struggle, but my adrenaline had already kicked in and the voice was urging me on like a cheerleader. She scratched my leg and drew blood. In pure rage I began slamming her already bloody face into the porcelain sink. The cracking sound her skull made reminded me of the woman last week. After three or four times she was silenced...and dead. I was breathing so hard I almost passed out. When I released her hair and stepped out of the room, I noticed that I had ejaculated. I also noticed that my leg was bleeding. I walked back into the bathroom and glanced at the cracked mirror. I could make out most of my features. My short, dark hair, my little nose and big ears. My brown eyes looked so black in this mirror. I stepped over her body and into the shower to wash the blood and cum away. When I finished I put her in the shower and cleaned all the blood and prints away. I was very anal about this sort of stuff. So much so, that I cut off her three fingers whose nails had my skin and blood under them. I placed them in my pocket and left. The whole way home I screamed at the voice for not letting me have her first. It only replied that I had done well and I would get over it. It also reminded me to discard the fingers when I got home. So I placed them in a half empty jar of peanut butter and tossed them in the trash. The voice has never mentioned anything I tell you, my diary. I am wondering if it knows my thoughts when I tell them to you. Whether it does or not, I feel safe telling my secrets to you.

1:40 a.m.

May 8th Mon.--

     It's been a month since my first kill and there has been four more since then. I can't stand it any longer. I know that I am losing control of my mind. The voice is in charge when ever it wants to be. I wanted to write in this diary for the last three weeks but I wasn't allowed to. It hates when I write in here because it can't touch me. It has no control over my thoughts. I fear that I'm going to be caught any day. The last girl I murdered was in a convenience store. I gave her a twenty and she said I only gave her a ten. The voice didn't like that at all so I was forced to beat her to death with a hammer I saw laying on the counter. I must have broken every bone in her upper body. Anyway, some punk kids came in when I was cleaning and saw my face. I ran out before I could clean all my prints. I won't survive in a jail. The voice wants me to kill every time I go out and I usually do. I don't know what the hell to do. Maybe death is the only way out.

11:59 p.m.

May 11th Thurs--

     I am dead. My body lives but I am still dead. The voice has nearly gained complete control of my mind. I fear that I will no longer be able to seek refuge in these pages. Last night I killed two children. I was driving home past the park, arguing with the voice when I heard a loud thump against my car. I slammed on the brakes and ran around to the passenger side of the car to see whom I had hit. There he was; a little boy of about nine or ten. I wanted to rush over to him so badly I almost cried. But that fucking voice directed my attention to the little girl of about six who was frozen in shock screaming and staring at the other child. "Kill her before she runs away and tells on you." I didn't want to; I really didn't. But I had no say-so in the matter. I instinctively walked over to her and snatched her by the arm. I pulled her over to the playground and told her to stop screaming. I would have done her gently if she'd have just stopped that piercing scream. But it was the voices turn to get her to stop. I grabbed her by the ankles and swung her body into the metal play set, head first. Her skull cracked like an egg and blood poured out accordingly. I threw up while the voice laughed and called me a pussy. After tonight there will be no more of me left; there will be only the voice controlling my body. I can't have that. I know all that I have done is wrong and I am sorry. But I can say that a thousand times and nothing will ever change. I don't want to live under the voice's rule. Tonight I will destroy the evil that has consumed such a large part me. I have shared with you, diary, all my secrets and deepest desires. Tonight, I will share with you one last secret. When finished with this, my last entry, I will slit my own throat while standing on top of this building, fourteen stories above the ground. I will shed my own blood for all that which I have taken. By falling I am giving God a chance to take my soul. If he has not taken it when I hit the ground, then the devil surely will. There is no other way out and this is the only redemption I know. It has been over a month since I have had any emotional feelings. Tonight, however, I feel everything: hate, depression, confusion, regret, remorse, and freedom. Freedom from myself, the voice, and all the shit I live in. I will miss you. You are my best friend and it is with you that I shall leave my last sane thoughts; and this, my suicide note. Good bye, my only friend.

Anthony P. Walcott

12:03 a.m.

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