• It's been a week since John's funeral, and let's just say that I'm not feeling like I should right after my brother, erm, "passed on." My father has deemed John's name taboo, and just to spite him and that whore, and continually said it. Mother dearest nearly faints every time the name slips from my lips. In this past week I've tested and played with my new gift. I've killed six birds, a fox, at least ten cats, and (this is the fun part) three people, excluding John.I've become used to the idea of killing. My meaningless life has brightened just a bit. No one messes with me and lives, why my first intended victim was my childhood love, Jessie.
    She didn't get it quick, like john, I needed to see if it was truly me who killed john by creating an ending that was nearly impossible. I had her poke herself in the eye with her eyeliner, and get disoriented by the pain, then breaking her hand when her best friend accidentally slams it in the stall door. Then, still disoriented and clutching her hand, she slips on a piece of paper towel and breaks her neck against the sink, also shattering the mirror when her head bashes against it.
    It was with just a thought. I also wondered if I could make people murder people, and I could. I made my childhood bully go on a killing rampage downtown (ok, so more then just three people) then shoot himself in the head. It was fun.
    My third direct victim was my L.A teacher. I won't tell you how I killed her, it might make you throw up.
    Now here I am, preparing to finish off the biggest thorn in my side, My father. Oh yes, his death will be the worst one yet.