Dear John, Fourteen years, two months, one week, and six days ago you told me my mind

was like a bomb waiting to go off. You were right. I had always felt I was blessed, the right side of my brain that of a mathematic al savant and the left side that of the next Michelangelo. I could work out the most difficult equation in mere moments and draw a picture worthy of being in th e Louvre. I always felt my skill came from the two working together as in my art I used maths to make perfect shapes where as in my maths I used art to solve th e equations. I suppose it is then only ironic that they hung perfectly from the fan which was travelling at a perfect 3.14159 meters per second with their blood making a perfect circle in the floor underneath them. The Police didn't appreci ate that, stubborn arse's. I suppose you need explaining for that last bit, four days ago at thirteen o'clo ck I had a mental black out for three hours and fourteen minutes. When my mental displacement ended I found myself holding a blood stained knife in front of sev eral corpses four hanging from the aforementioned fan and the remaining three wi th assorted numbers and phrases carved into them. Four minutes and seven seconds after that the police came and arrested me refusing to see the perfect maths an d art in my work. After a short journey in their car I found they had left me a hairpin which I used to remove my handcuffs choke the police officer on the righ t and subsequently kill the police officer on the left in the inevitable crash. Shortly after taking their gun and altering their faces so that they had the gol den ratio (this I did with my knife they kept in the boot) I swiftly left. I am currently writing from the warehouse on main street where I am waiting for you to come so that I may kill you as well. For you are no doubt thinking 'why s hould I should go' let me explain why you should. Upon reflection I came to the conclusion of my murder. fifteen minutes after my black out you daughter Abigail took me upstairs to help her with her math homework. She as usual treated me li ke a demented peasant and my brain crashed possibly due to stress or too much ge nius. This resulted in me performing a slow and brutal rape against your daughte r where I forced myself upon her at knife point. Her screams of disgust did not leave the room however as she was foolish enough to have had her room sound proo fed for when she performed mating rituals with her boy friend. After I finished the rape I swiftly killed her and carved 'dirty, dirty bitch' into her chest. I then calmly went downstairs to our parents and your son as well as my brother. U pon seeing the blood on me the children and your mother swiftly ran out leaving only your father and my parents. Within seconds I had sliced open a hole in thei r necks reached in and ripped out there intestines for the time I left them on t he floor (with hindsight I am disappointed and will apologize for their inconven ient and un artistic or mathematical layout on the floor as it caused me great g rief later on to see the lack of symmetry). After killing them I proceeded to th e kitchen where the mother held a knife and the children stood behind her she ye lled 'why, why, you were such a good boy' though I did not waste time with small talk and merely knocked the knife out of her eye and in a Van Gough inspired ac t ripped off her ear with my teeth. Such Adrenaline it gave removing the ear whi ch encouraged me then to removed her eye though that was less pleasant which ine vitably encouraged me to slice open her head and rip out the brain (I left it ne atly for you in the sink). I quickly killed the children with a slice to the nec k and brought the body's to the main room. There I added your mother's body to t he other adults and (after rearranging there poorly displayed corpses) hung them from the fan by the intestines with a perfect meter of it showing. I then wrot e the equation for the time it took me to do the deed on your son's forehead and carved the Mona Lisa into my brothers chest, tragically I felt I got the nose w rong but I'm sure you will forgive such a minor incident. Your Sister soon joine d them so as that all the guests lay (or hanged) in the room. It was around this point that the aforementioned story took place. Now back to the question why does this story make you want to come to me and per haps more importantly why do I want to kill you. They are both simple, you want revenge and you will no doubt read half this letter perhaps getting up to the ra pe then march to me in anger resulting in either me or your death not calling th

e police or aid as you will be blinded by anger (this is why I described my deed s to you) If that is the case I suspect you are reading this next to my body and swearing profusely as you think of how to explain this to the police. (All the murders are on you at this stage in time as I left a message stapled to that stu pid picture your mother had that was drawn without skill or taste - This letter will be worthless as I typed it so they can claim it was you who did it and this twist is within your brain capacity). However the second question is more inter esting, I killed your family so why should I kill you, quite simply because it's an odd number, 7, its odd I need to kill you so that I may have eight kills to my name. In addition you always rustled my hair a simple act but an annoying one none the less (I made your sister apologize for that whilst I raped her, she cr ied your name out so many times but you never came, in truth it made me laugh he r uselessness) it is for these reasons that I wish to kill you. Oh and by the wa y, I'm watching you read this but you can't see me, im sharpening my knife and l aughing but you can't see me. Best Wishes, Jacob 'Weirdo' Chatsworth