Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Kevin
I didn’t think it would end this way. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You don’t own
me, you bitch. You’re mine. This was supposed to be my big finale. I’m supposed to finish you.
I’ve been waiting for this day for seventeen years. I’ve got all my tools here, don’t you see?
This one was to carve your heart out. You always looked so pretty in red. Don’t spoil it. You
owe me this moment. I’ve been dreaming of this for too long. You have to let me finish you, so
I remember the day I met Baby. She was young, just like me, but more of a lady than I
would ever know in my life. I was thirteen years old. My mother, that naïve bitch, was
reuniting with the daughter of an old friend who’d just moved to town. They were reminiscing
of the young woman’s father who’d been in a coma for many years. Her name was Laura, and
she had just moved to town to run the local theater. She was so desperate for love and
inspiration. I suspect that meeting her thirteen-year-old protégée was the best day of her life.
The sad, lonely duo clung to each other for dear life. She’d brought this young angel with her to
meet my mother. I don’t know why, come to think of it. Yes, wait, I do. Poor desperate Laura
needed all the support she could get. She brought her to facilitate this sad reunion and brag
about the new talent she’d discovered. In the few short months they’d known each other, this
young angel had already nurtured Laura’s soul more than anyone had in years. A young actress
with more talent than Laura had ever seen, this young beauty had every promise of being the
greatest to happen to ever happen to the world. The instant I saw her, I understood. It was
true. This angel would be our savior. She would also be my captor.
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The women sat talking in the living room, while I listened from my bedroom. Slowly, I
made my way out. They barely saw me. My mother, her eyes sunken from the exhaustion of
crying, turned towards me briefly. She smiled and introduced me to the girl they called “Baby”
who was sitting nervously near Laura. It was the nineties, so baby doll dresses were in fashion.
Baby wore a loose, white baby doll dress, white tights, and black Mary-Jane shoes. Her hair was
long and black, to match. It fell loosely around her dark eyes, framing them in sad, scattered
waves. Her skin was almost as pale as her dress. It was shiny and sweaty from her thick hair.
Embarrassed, she kept trying to wipe the sweat off her brow while pretending to be brushing
her hair back with her hand. It didn’t work, of course. The more nervous and self-conscious
she became, the more flushed her face became. The more she would shine……
No one cared as I sat watching on the corner of the couch. My mother and Laura were
taking turns speaking about Laura’s father. My mother had known him when she was little until
she moved away when she was ten. They’d been pen pals ever since until the accident that left
him in a coma. She’d never met Laura, who was now twenty-two and fighting to keep the
memory of her father alive. The poor sap had been connected to machines for years. No one
had any hope, but she couldn’t let him go. She couldn’t pull the plug. Part of her felt guilty, but
killing him would’ve been inconceivable. I wondered what that would be like. Every so often,
the women would get too choked up to speak and there would be this awkward silence. That
was Baby’s cue. She’d speak up, in her trembling, mousy voice. Usually it would be something
simple and kind, not meant to have any effect but to stir the pot of emotions and open the
flood gates again. “Laura’s told me so many stories about John. He seems like a perfect father.
I never knew a father could love a child so much until she told me about him. I’ll bet he was
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wonderful growing up.” Then Laura would look on her lovingly and brush Baby’s sweaty hair off
her brow. Then Laura and my mother would be sobbing and talking again for another half
hour. Baby stared deeply at them the entire time, leaning forward like she was literally about
to leap in at any moment. She was there to keep things going. Laura, exhausted from all the
years of waiting needed to keep feeling. She needed to keep bleeding just to know she was still
Eventually they got everything out and started to smile and laugh about current times.
Laura bragged about Baby and all the things she could do. She made her perform scenes from
Shakespeare, which she did flawlessly. Then she sang, first a sad song and then a more upbeat
one. Apparently this young lady was also a fantastic choreographer. Baby was even known to
have visions. She’d even had a dream that John would wake up one day. Out of nowhere he
would open his eyes and start talking like nothing had ever happened. He’d fall in love with a
woman Laura worked with, and they’d get married. My mother was completely enchanted.
That wouldn’t last for long. Within six months, my mother would come to loathe Baby and all
she represented…..namely the emerging of my true colors. Soon, my mother would hate this
little angel because she would see me for the first time, and it wouldn’t be good. That stupid,
stupid weak bitch would never be able to handle knowing what she had spawned. For now,
though, she was under Baby’s spell. Things calmed enough that Baby saw her services were no
longer necessary.
Baby always needed someone to play with. She needed to look upon someone with
those magical eyes and stir the pot. Whatever lurked deep within their souls had to emerge
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and remain at the surface. Suddenly she looked up at me and blinked her wet eyes open to get
my attention. She looked deeply at me and gave me a sad, pouty frown like a damsel in
distress. Then she gave me a sheepish smile. She came and sat next to me and nervously tried
to make conversation. I invited her back to my room to look at my books. Laura smiled and
told her to go ahead. We sat in my room talking about whatever I wanted for hours. She sat
there on the bed, listening to my every word, her head and shoulders arched forward a little
more every few minutes. My poor, sad, lonely Baby doll. I just wanted to put her on my lap
Time went on and Baby and I became friends, if you want to call it that. She didn’t have
a lot of friends back then, so she was all mine. When she wasn’t working at the theater, she
would come by in the afternoon. She would take the bus all by herself. I would sit up for hours
showing her my books and drawings. I would set her on the bed and stare at her angelic face.
She always looked up at me, never down. Her face was always tilted down like a dog’s who’s
been repeatedly beaten. I liked her that way. I would sit there staring in awe. Occasionally I
would wink, and she would blush. I imagined myself playing with her long hair and trying
different shoes on her. I used to draw her wearing different dresses and shoes. Sometimes I
drew her with a head band, other times not. She was always delighted at the attention I
Things were going well for Baby at the theater, a little too well. She started getting
more roles and more responsibilities. She was so devoted to Laura and their craft. One play
was particularly devastating for me. She really bonded with her costars. Months passed, and
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she started to come over less and less. When I called her, she was never home. When I called
her at Laura’s, and she’d always be gone or busy. I tried to get her friends’ phone numbers, but
she refused to give them to me. Finally, she would come over. I knew she would miss me
eventually. I told her how much I missed her and needed her. I couldn’t hide my frustration.
She cried and said she couldn’t help it. She and her male lead were becoming very close. He
protected her and needed her. I knew he was falling in love with her. He’d started
accompanying her on the bus. She said it was just a coincidence that he was on there as well,
but I knew otherwise. She said they were just friends. That was a lie. I knew something more
was going on. If not yet, then it certainly would be. He was trying to steal her from me.
They had another friend who was teaching her how to sew costumes. When she wasn’t
with one, she was with the other. I told her she couldn’t stay away from me like that. How
could she do that to me when I needed her so? She cried and told me that if I cared about her
I’d let her be free. This was out of the question. I flew into a rage and hit her. I hit her again
and again. Then everything went white. I don’t even remember what happened next. I just
remember hearing her running through the bushes outside my house screaming for me to leave
her alone. I yelled after her and ran. My rage was so thick I could barely see, and I felt dizzy. I
tripped and fell over some twigs. Before I knew it, she was gone.
The next day I heard my mother on the phone arguing with someone. There was no
way her son could ever do such a thing. At first she emphatically denied any wrongdoing on my
part. She looked at me with sad eyes but never questioned me. She knew there was no other
explanation. Baby’s face was all swollen and bruised. She had bruises up and down her arms
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from an apparent struggle. My mother told me not to see that girl anymore. I cried and told
her I was sorry. I never wanted to hurt Baby, but she just made me so angry. She let me feel
like I was the only person in the world, and then she abandoned me. How could she forget
about me like that? My mother cradled my head in her arms and caressed my hair tenderly.
Her poor sweet boy never meant to hurt anyone. That horrible girl was just asking for trouble.
I kept trying to call Baby to apologize, but she refused to talk to me. Laura took her to
the police, and they questioned me. I cried and told them I never meant to hurt anyone. I was
so sad and pathetic that they felt bad for me. I promised not to go near her, and they let the
matter go. Laura saw me on my way out and told me never to go near her baby again, or she’d
have me thrown in jail. She was so upset that they had to restrain her. She looked like she
would’ve killed me had they let her go. It kind of felt good. In a weird way my power was
I knew where Baby lived, and I quickly found out where her friends lived. I started
following her. There was a space between the two buildings across from her apartment
building. It held a rather large trash can, some boxes, and a gate in front to keep people out. It
was easy to hop over, though and became a perfect place to hide. Poor, foolish Baby would
always go out at night to meet her new friends. I popped out once just to talk to her and she
screamed. I wish she hadn’t done that. Naturally I had to respond. I kicked her in the gut and
pushed her down. I grabbed her by her hair and told her to shut up. She kept screaming, so I
told her I had a knife. Just then her friend David, the budding seamstress, came from around a
corner. I wish I’d have known he knew martial arts. He quickly got me away from her and did
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some sort of move on me. My arms hurt for a long time afterwards. He told me to leave her
After that, one of the boys made sure they were always around Baby when she went
anywhere. I knew I couldn’t take David, but I had a feeling I could take the other boy if I had to.
Still, I tried to avoid it. That French bastard who just happened to be on the bus when she came
to visit me was now her boyfriend. He was in love, so he would do anything for her. So would I.
I wondered how his perfect skin would look with a few blood stains. Oooooooooh, blood.
What an idea. I bought a pocket knife for protection. If I should find one of them alone in a
Things went well for awhile. I learned to relish my spot in between the two buildings.
When I looked up, I could see her bedroom window. She hadn’t actually seen me coming that
night, so she didn’t officially know where my hiding spot was. I’ll bet she wondered on
occasion, though. Well versed in Shakespeare, she had a natural love of balconies and
moonlight. I’d catch her sitting by the window, looking up. She was always looking up. Even
from up high, she always knew everything that mattered was above her. Her skin, already so
white, practically glowed in the moonlight. It was probably the sweat from her thick blanket of
hair. I wanted to nuzzle the side of her face and smell it. I continued my drawings, though I
could barely see from my little perch in the shadows behind the gate. I had her shape
memorized, though. I wouldn’t even look at the paper. My hands would just glide over it as I
This went on for months. I would sneak out most nights to watch Baby in her
environment. I had spots all over town I could watch her from. The theater had plenty of
shadows outside, as did David’s house. My favorite spot there was an area with a few really tall
bushes behind a park bench near his apartment building. The fools practically lived there. They
would walk through the park and talk and sing. David’s mother had escaped from an abusive
marriage with her children. That’s why he had learned martial arts. That’s why his guard was
up. He was always looking around when he was with her, ready to pounce on me if he saw me.
A few times he did and told me to leave and stop stalking them.
A few times I mentioned my knife, for protection. This would usually end in a call to my
mother the next day. I’d hear her on the phone with Laura, vehemently denying any
wrongdoing on my part. She would sob and say that nothing like this ever happened until Baby
came into my life. Baby, the needy, emotional instigator always kept hearts bleeding. She
always knew just what to say to get everyone sobbing again. I was such a good boy before she
came.
The day after my sixteenth birthday, the police came. I knew they would. They just
didn’t like my art. I thought Baby’s white dress would look good with a little color down her
neck. I had to see for sure what this would look like. I didn’t really hurt her. She’d just have a
lovely small scar on the side of her neck. The way her head was always bowed in shame, I
doubted anyone would notice anyway. They put me away in juvie for awhile and told me not to
go near her. They were always telling me that anyway, so it was nothing new. Leave the little
instigator alone, and she won’t cause problems. Meanwhile, my art was suffering. I spent all
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night trying to get her feet right one night. I kept getting the size and shape wrong. It was so
aggravating. I had to draw a knife and pretend I had used that knife to carve them into the
Things got tougher when Baby got her driver’s license, but I’m not one to shrink from a
challenge. I would follow her around in my car. Occasionally she’d have Laura’s brats in the
back seat, so she’d freak out. I got a bigger knife and loved the way it felt against my lips. I’d
hold it up and kiss it when I’d see her. It’s not like I could draw while I was driving. I had to do
something to make the experience of seeing her more tangible. I was never aroused by her
sexually. She was my art, my baby, my doll. She was my muse and my paint. It wasn’t enough
just to see her and think of her. She was too much of an experience for me. Man, I loved that
blade. She would completely over react and call the police on her little cell phone just because I
was “stalking” her and “threatening” her with a knife. That’s not at all what I was doing. Oh,
but Baby had to stir the pot. It made me want to stir her with my knife, that little melodramatic
bitch. Ah, but I’m an artist. Even as a teenager, I was above reacting with such petty emotion. I
was no loose cannon. No, an artist takes time to plan and move with precision.
Right after we turned twenty, Baby wed her French asshole boyfriend. It was a lovely
ceremony in the park. I sat and watched with my binoculars from the second floor of a café on
the other side. She was supposed to wear white, but David made her a purple dress instead.
He did it just to spite me. Why were they always so petty and spiteful? Was it really necessary
to spend all that energy doing things just to irritate me? Did they really have nothing better to
do? She was supposed to wear a long, white dress and black shoes with round toes. What
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exactly was so difficult about that? It was one of the most important, fashionable days of her
life, aside from her death which I would handle later. This one thing he was in charge of, and he
completely screwed it up. He made her a stupid, ugly purple dress with lavender shoes. She
held purple and red roses when I specifically wanted a red bouquet. I told them that in my
letter. I was very specific. How the hell could they screw that up unless it was to spite me?
After that, Baby moved away. She and her French husband went to live in France. I
knew I was going to be stuck for awhile. I moved to a nearby town and got a job in a knife
shop. I loved sharpening the blades. I decided to use my time wisely and learned as much as I
could about them. I increased my collection and decided to improve my social skills. One day,
a beautiful, raven-haired maiden walked in. She looked almost like my angel, except she had a
pointier nose, which I hated. I smiled and flirted with her. When she blushed, that sealed it for
me. I knew it was the Universe telling me to be patient and practice. She was only passing
through town. I convinced her to stay a few extra days at her hotel and visit with me. She was
I enjoyed making this new woman look like Baby. I found a nice white dress and then
met her in her hotel. She was so weak like Baby that she didn’t fight hard when I strangled her.
I got her dressed and then fixed her nose and face with my knife. This was becoming an art
form, and it was exhilarating. I was so proud of my work. When I was done, she looked just like
Baby except her skin was no longer white. Even I can’t control the stain of blood. Small
imperfection. It would take the police years to figure it out it was me.
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I scored big when I went into an old shop and found several white dresses that looked
much like ones Baby had worn. I bought them all. The next woman was perfect except she was
too tall. I had to get a saw to fix that. The next woman’s hair wasn’t the right color. This was
much easier to fix. I enjoyed my work, but sometimes it was grueling. I welcomed the relief of
the easy jobs. Each one brought a sense of relief and exhilaration that would last for a few
months until fortunately I would find another. I wouldn’t work with just anyone. They had to
be a slight variation of my muse. In all, I think I found twenty-nine of them before the time
Finding news about Baby was such a pain. I had to follow Laura and David to get any
information. I tried writing them, but that only got me a visit from the police. I was polite as I
could be in my letters. Sometimes I would cut myself and draw little pictures on the pages. I
thought this was beautiful, but I guess they didn’t appreciate it. People can be so ignorant
when it comes to art. I snuck into Laura’s office and found some lovely packages from Baby.
Then they stopped writing letters, so I had to hack into Laura’s email account. I was constantly
having to learn new skills, but I managed. This went on for years as I waited to finally see Baby
again. I never lost faith and kept honing my skills and planning my final victory.
One day I read an email from Baby saying that she missed Laura horribly and wanted to
know if she could stay with her for a few months over the summer. At last, my dream would
come true. I would see her again and end the control she’d had over me for seventeen years.
Laura was ecstatic and told her to come. It was time to kick things into high gear. I had to start
planning. There was no way out of this. Either I would win, or she would have control over me
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forever. I was tired of it, so tired, so horribly tired. I was so nervous and elated that all this was
My heart started pounding after I read that email. I had so much to do. This was so
important. I couldn’t screw it up. I had amassed five knives so far, which was a good start. I
needed to plan for other circumstances though. Baby had a lot of friends now. Laura’s father,
John, had been awake for years, and he and his wife were very fond of Baby. So were Laura’s
husband and children. David was as strong as ever, and his family deeply loved Baby as well.
They all knew about me. I know this because I’d run into them on occasion when I was playing
with my knife outside where they worked. They would do anything to protect Baby. I put my
head down and started to cry. What was I going to do if they were all there and came after
me? It wasn’t fair for them to vilify me so. It was her fault. She was always stirring up
emotions. They, of all people, should’ve known that. She always got them crying and hugging.
It was ridiculous. How could they not see it? I started kicking my desk and shaking. It wasn’t
fair. I would need a back-up plan. I would need guns. Yes, that’s right. Guns. I would build up
my knives, so I could enjoy cutting her just as I wanted. After all, this was going to be my big
finale, my greatest art project yet. I wanted to enjoy it as much as possible. I didn’t want to get
started and want to switch knives halfway through only to not have the right knife and start
In my previous projects, I had come to meet some unsavory folks. I had no problem
securing a few guns. I placed them strategically, so no matter what position I’d be in, I’d have
one. I didn’t learn much about them, but they seemed like they’d work. I bought a cute tiny
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little one, which I would keep in my pocket as a back-up. I posed with it a few times in the
mirror, but I guess that’s neither here nor there. If things were going well, I would still have
that one in case something went suddenly haywire. I placed one in my suit pocket, one in my
coat pocket, one in my glove compartment, one in the side of my car, and a few bigger ones in
the trunk in case we got into a really bad situation. I didn’t want to have to reload. I was too
clumsy anyway. I wanted to just be able to toss out my gun and reach for another. Guns
weren’t my weapon of choice anyway. These were strictly in case things went wrong.
My plan was this: I would set out early Saturday morning. I decided to do it then
because there were some other things I wanted to take care of as well. I would start out for my
mother’s house and take care of her first. Then I would go by Laura’s apartment and handle
her. Baby, it turns out, was staying at John and his wife’s apartment, so I would go there last. I
would have my knives in my pockets and only use the guns if someone tried to fight back a little
too much. I didn’t have time for fighting. I knew Baby would be leaving for the theater in the
afternoon to meet Laura. If I got pressed for time, I would just shoot whoever was being a
problem.
Everything was set. I left this morning at seven AM and drove the hour or so to my
mother’s house. I took my coat off, figuring I wouldn’t need it or the guns in it. I knew my
father had left for work. Mother would be alone, and she wouldn’t fight back. Then the
craziest thing happened. I walked in the door to see her with a terrified look in her eyes. She
was holding the phone receiver and screaming at John to leave her alone. She said it wasn’t
true. She set down the phone and stood looking at me, frozen in fear. Tears streamed down
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her face, and she was trembling. John was yelling that I was going to kill her. Baby had seen it
in a vision. He was begging her to run, to leave and never look back until she heard things were
safe. Then he put Baby on the phone. She was screaming and pleading with my mother to
believe her. “It’s all your fault!” my mother screamed. “He was never like this until you came
around!” Baby wasn’t even denying it. She just kept sobbing and begging my mother to leave.
We stood there staring at each other. I put my hands on her arms and held her tenderly for a
moment. “You know I have to do this,” I whispered. She looked up and me and shook her
head, pleadingly. I had already reached in my pocket and grabbed my knife. I jabbed it into her
gut. Her eyes bugged out, and she made some sort of sound. She crumbled forward, and I let
her down gently. I laid her on her back and froze for a moment. Baby, who apparently was
seeing this all in her mind was screaming on the phone. I stabbed my mother again and again
and again. She lied there sobbing the entire time. She didn’t even say anything. Blood was
splattering everywhere. It was all over my hands and clothes. I had forgotten a spare set of
clothing, but it was alright. I had some leftover in my old room. I had even left a nice suit in
there, which I needed. I showered and got dressed. I didn’t want to be ugly when I was killing
my muse. Mother died while I was transferring my weaponry over. Somehow I’d gotten
distracted by all the blood and missed this crucial moment. Oh well. This wasn’t the big
I left just as easily as I came. I appeared calm and remarkably focused. Normally I was
pretty clumsy, but not today. I wondered if the neighbors would see me getting into my car
with unusual ease and suspect something. Normally I was always fumbling with my keys and
getting upset.
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Next I went to Laura’s apartment. I had long since made a key, so I could look through
her things. She was obviously too stupid to figure this out because it still worked. Not
surprisingly, she and her family were gone. I trashed the place and left some slashed pictures
of Baby in the middle of her floor, so she’d know I was there. I’m sure Baby told her I was
coming. She wasn’t at her office either. I didn’t have time to hunt for her further.
I was getting fed up now, so I went straight to John’s apartment. I didn’t like them
trying to outsmart me like this. It wasn’t very nice. I busted down the door, but no one was
home. DAMN IT!!!! Where could they have gone? Did they really think they were going to
beat me? I slashed up all their furniture. Then I cut myself and smeared blood all over their
pillows and some on their floor. There, now they would have to live with that ugly stain. They
weren’t going to beat me this easily. I would find them. I tore up some of John’s nice suits and
After this, my blood was boiling. They actually thought they were going to outrun me. I
got my gun out and was carrying it through the parking lot when I saw something out of the
corner of my eye that took my breath away. Baby, in all her beauty, was there on her motor
cycle waiting for me. I almost started to cry. She was on her cell phone pleading with
someone to listen and send the police. I guess they didn’t believe the whole “I saw a vision”
story. Even now that she said I was there in front of her, they weren’t buying it apparently. She
sped off, out of the garage. I hopped in my car with a smile and followed her.
My heart was pumping. Time was passing by so slowly. I tried to hit her, but she kept
dodging me. She kept going and going further out of town. She knew she wasn’t going to
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outrun me, so she had to do something else. We ended up in some remote area at some old
tavern that wasn’t open yet. She stopped, jumped off her bike, and ran in through an open
door. The manager was there alone fixing some things. He opened his mouth to yell for her to
get out, but she was screaming too loudly for him to run and call 911. I followed her in. He
took one look at me with the knife in my hand and ran for the door with the phone. I could’ve
shot him, but I was too preoccupied with Baby. There she was, at last. My shining moment was
here.
Baby looked so beautiful……..for someone wearing pants. She wore a lovely white tank
top just for me. She knew I’d enjoy it. It would be so beautiful to carve up. I stood there
imagining the blood soaking her top for a moment after she took off her jacket. She was
wearing black pants, which I didn’t love, but oh well. She only had short notice and needed to
ride her motorcycle, so I understood. Her shoes were black as well. Her hair was shorter and
went just past her shoulders. She still looked perfect to me. It’s hard to believe that it’s been
seventeen years since we met. Her face had definitely matured but hadn’t quite aged. Her skin
was still shiny and glistening. Tears were streaming down her face, but I got the feeling that
they were fake. She wasn’t frightened of me. She just wanted me to think I was winning. Poor,
sweet lamb……..she was staring me right in the eyes with no fear. She had no pockets to carry a
weapon. I held up my knife and asked for her cell phone, which she reluctantly gave. Then the
real tears started. It was over. There was officially no way out. I told her to have a seat and
went back into the kitchen to fix a sandwich and some French fries. It had been a very
When I went back out she was seated at a table waiting patiently. She told me she
knew I had guns and wasn’t going to let me kill anyone else. I smiled and told her I was
relieved. She was all I wanted. We sat and talked for a moment while I ate half the sandwich.
Then I stopped and stared at her. A look of fear came into her eyes as she knew exactly what I
was going to do. She trembled and whimpered as I got up and jabbed my little knife into her
gut. She cried and whimpered but didn’t quite let out a scream. I actually didn’t stab her that
deeply. I went back and sat across from her and smiled. I told her I wanted to savor this
moment. I asked her how she was planning on getting out of this, since she didn’t quite look
defeated yet. Perhaps she was hoping the cops would still arrive. That was unlikely after her
wild story about seeing me coming in a vision. I picked up one of my French fries, reached over,
and swiped it against her bloody shirt. She cringed. It had a lovely metallic taste in my mouth.
I smiled deep into her eyes. She was more beautiful every moment. I got up and cut a long,
shallow line down the side of her neck and across her chest. She was shaking and crying. I
could tell she wanted to fight back, but she knew I’d just shoot her. I had a gun in my little shirt
pocket and in my suit side pocket. I also had one in my pants pocket. There was no way she
She tried to keep me talking, which I was happy to do. We reminisced about old times.
We talked about my mother and her family. She didn’t want to talk about her family, but I
wanted her to know I knew about them just in case. I knew about her children and her
husband. I knew where they lived, even though it was far away. I knew that her husband was
visiting his relatives, and I knew where that was. I knew everything. Baby was bleeding slowly,
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and she had her hands cupped over her wounds. I didn’t want her to just die. I wanted to
I got up, and she whimpered “No. No, no, no, no no……..” Ah, yes. It’s time. I grabbed
her by the forearms and turned her around, away from the table. I pushed her down onto the
ground and got out my favorite knife. I stabbed her once with a big, sweeping motion. I
stabbed her again. She was starting to gurgle and cry. Her eyes were staring off into the
distance. She wasn’t giving up. I stabbed her again and again. Then……….. NO! No! You bitch!
You horrible bitch! No!!!!!!!! I heard a bang……….a horrible bang. I fell backward. My heart
felt stiff like something was stuck in it and it wouldn’t move. My body felt weak. I felt
paralyzed. No, this couldn’t be happening. I turned my head and saw that Baby was still on the
ground, my gun clasped in her bloody hands. Her chest was heaving, and she was sobbing,
screaming, trying to work up the strength to get up, but she couldn’t. Blood was oozing
everywhere, from her body and mine. I watched as the two pools of blood merged together.
Then, my body stopped for good. I felt myself get up and walk over to her.
Soon, I saw an ambulance come. They hoisted her up onto a gurney and took her away.
I followed, silently. They never saw me get into the ambulance. They never saw me stand over
her in the operating room. They never saw me by her bed as the doctors told Laura it was
touch-and-go, but she was hanging on. They never saw me watch her leave on the day she was
discharged later. They never saw me, period. At the same time, I had lost and won. I had not
been able to kill my torturous muse, but now we were bonded together forever. She could
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never say she wasn’t a killer, for now she was. Though they would never prosecute her, she
would always know she had led me to my demise. From day one, I was doomed.
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Reflective Memo
This story is taken directly from the persistent fantasy world I’ve had since I was 9 years
old. It was actually one of my earliest story lines. My main character, who everyone calls Baby,
met the character Laura when she was 9. She met the character Kevin when she was 13. I
want to say that the story lines are “true” because in some way they really “happened”. At
least, this was really my life at that age. This is really what went on in my daydream world.
Fortunately it was just one story line. It wasn’t initially so gruesome. Mostly she and Kevin just
became friends while the whole John/Laura/coma story line happened. I got tired of the Kevin
character, so he fell to the side lines while she befriended new people. I had a hard time
getting rid of characters, so often they would just linger on for years. He became a stalking
character she could never quite get rid of. In order to finally get him out of my story lines, I had
to kill him off. This happened back in 2003. Because their dynamic had become nasty and
violent, it had to end violently. It was a huge irritation, so I was glad when it was done. It’s kind
of an irritation to bring it up again to write it, but it’s one of the most interesting ones and fairly
simple.
All my other characters are so tightly intertwined that it’s hard to think of writing about
them. I wouldn’t know where to begin. That’s always been the problem with my fantasy world.
It’s just too vast and complicated. With this story, I’m trying to figure a way around that.
Perhaps that’s why I wrote it from Kevin’s point of view. He’s not very connected to anyone
In my “real” story line, there was also a father and sister who he tried to kill as well as
other friends of hers. On her end, it was naturally very horrifying. She was very psychic by then
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and had very vivid images of where he was and what he was doing. The phone part is new. In
my original story line, she and her father were calling his mother and begging her to run away.
When Kevin was killing his mother, Baby and his mother were just connected telepathically.
While their relationship had deteriorated, they had an initial bond that was very strong and
never quite went away. She felt his mother’s tears and comforted her telepathically as she laid
sobbing and dying at her precious son’s hands. It was very gruesome. Conversely, his father
had believed Baby and run away. His sister did as well. Kevin went to where they had been and
I think I mentioned Kevin’s father having an aneurism in my last story. In my “real” story
line, after Baby went to the hospital and was stable, Kevin’s father had a mental break down
and tried to shoot baby in her hospital room. Her brother leaped in front of her and took the
bullet in his shoulder. Because of all this Kevin business, he had been carrying a gun for years.
The more I think about this, the more complicated it is, and it’s giving me a headache. There’s a
lot more, including all her siblings and who she warned and who she didn’t. She knew Kevin
would just shoot anyone who tried to defend her, so she didn’t warn anyone who would, like
her brother. Her brother shot Ed, Kevin’s father, in the hand. He was ok but died of an
aneurism later. Kevin’s sister ran off and was spared. The only casualties of the day ended up
I wrote this all out as quickly as possible in just a few sittings. With a condition like
Maladaptive Daydreaming, there’s always more. If the Kevin character taught me anything, it’s
that nothing ever goes away. He’s been in my head for 17 years, and though I killed him 8 years
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ago, he’ll never be gone. He’s permanently etched in my mind along with everyone else. By
now there have to be hundreds, and their world keeps expanding. I wonder how we manage to
live like this. It kind of makes our problems with the outer world seem kind of trivial. In many
ways we have trouble getting by, but we also live more than many other people. If life, as the
character in my last story believed, is really about perception, then we truly live many enriching
lives at once.
I didn’t really think the title through since I’m seeing this as part of a larger vision. It’s
just temporary as I really have to figure out where it is before I decide if it needs a real title or
not. Because it’s part of a much larger inner works, it’s not complete enough to really have its
own title. Then again, I’ll never be able to write it all down. There’s just too much to write. I
did have an idea, which was to make both of my stories into part of a play. My idea was to start
with the “Miles” story with the woman who’s just over the edge and as he’s interviewing her,
break into subsequent stories. It would start off with the two main characters. Then they
would go off stage and the mini plays would play off one by one, with them coming back on to
discuss each one and lead into the next. Then again, I have no idea which other stories I’d tell
or if they’d relate. Maybe they could just break into this one, since Miles seems really
interested in finding out what happened. Then again, it’s not told from the right point of view
for that. It’s just told from the simplest, easiest, craziest point of view. I don’t know what to
do. I feel like it could be something, though, if I could figure out what and for what purpose.