Fore note: This is one of the more disturbing journal entries written by one of our patients here. I was there when he wrote it. I have withheld his name for privacy reasons, but he remains one of the more puzzling cases I have ever seen. It should by said that, if his mind ever returns to normalcy, he will be serving a life sentence. Also, he is only 17 years old.
Dr. Gunrie, Ph.D
Lyson Mental Ward
I can see her. In her slender form, flitting along the wall in a gossamer dress. Unsuspecting, naive. This is the first time she’s been to a school dance. It’s obvious by the way she tries to mingle with the others, tries to fit in. Always though, she fails, and returns to the wall and invisibility. I drift closer to her. Eventually asking her is she wants to dance. She blushes, refuses. I persuade. She accepts. I lead her in on the next song. We move slowly around the swaying pairs of bodies. Everything must be gentle, must be subtle. I hate this, it’s too close. Too warm. A polite, quiet conversation. Asking her questions, prancing nimbly around hers. They like that. Mystery. That and my eyes. It always draws them in. The song ends, I take her to get a drink. She won’t refuse any of my suggestions anymore. She’s too afraid of losing me. Undetermined. This makes it too easy. She is giggling at something I said. I can never remember how I do any of it. Natural charm, I suspect. Although she will giggle at anything I say. Stupidity. So transparent. I hate her.
No, I cannot let her see that. I must not let that rise to the surface. Lest that wicked glimmer shine in my eyes. For then I am cold, unaware of the happenings of the world around me.
The night wears thin. She is tired, unwary, unguarded. It is one past midnight, the time is now. I lead her away from the others, out into the open. Behind the school, across the park, into the woods. It is dark here, silent, concealing. Finally, relief. I soothe her, lie to her, and we kiss. Her first time. I slip my hand around her neck. This is why I chose her. Pretty and delicate. My fingers close around her throat. She can’t even scream. She struggles, tries to pull away. I hold her tighter. Soon, her body stops squirming and I let it drop to the ground. I breathe deeply and walk away. I am dreamy and lightheaded. I laugh. All that clever effort was for this one moment. Sweet ecstasy.
