Happiness & Homicide Presents: Motivation Proclamation
"Wil, we need to talk about what you did to Johnathan." I look up from my colouring book. "Who was he again?" "You don't remember him?" I drop my crayon and stretch back. "You seem to be forgetting I've killed a lotta people, you're gonna have to be a bit more specific than 'Johnathan' and don't get so upset that I don't remember. To me, this is like me asking you how many times you've taken a leak in your life or how many times you've had wine gums. It all becomes immaterial at some point. Crass to think this way, given what I've done, but that's the fact of the matter, mate."
He undoes the top button of his button-up and sits down across from me. "He was your friend, or we believe him to be your friend." I snort. "I don't have friends." "What about Nick?" "Nick doesn't count. He's my bitch." Phil's fringe nearly bursts with excitement. "You had a sexual relationship with Mr Humphrey?" "No! He's not the type nor is he my type. What I mean is...you tell no one that, but yeah I love him, he's my brother. Saying he's my bitch makes me seem harder than I am." Phil looks at me with a soft expression. "It's okay to love people and tell the world you care about then." "I know that...it's just hard for me, given who and what I am. I'm not ashamed of my sexuality, but I don't want it to define me. I don't want to have to face the abuse of my past either with the comments of others. If I'm a hardass, no one will want to fuck with me. There's no opportunity for me to ever be hurt again." Phil just looks at me. "Surprise, surprise the psychopath has feelings! Technically, I'm more of a sociopath, but I digress."
"Why don't you want to talk about him?" "If I could remember him better, I would. I don't remember everybody's name. It's not like I kept a little notebook of all the people I've whacked, Jesus, Phil let's be realistic." "Well, he was on the short side, curly brownish hair, hazel eyes...he had a load of freckles." That sparks something. "OH HIM! I think I know who you mean now. He had that odd-shaped scar! It looked like a shark! Yeah, I remember now. Why do you want to know about him?" I light a cigarette. "He's just the next one on my list of inquiries." "You have a list?" "We have a lot of questions for you, Wil. You've been rather busy these last 10 years or so." I shrug. "Well, when you find something you're good at and you enjoy it, where's the reason to take it slow?" Phil's face falls. "This is serial homicide, not knitting." "Both are challenging in their own ways." He shakes his head. "You really are something else."
"You said that you had some questions for me?" I brush off his remark, close my colouring book and look directly at him. "What did you do with him? What happened? From all accounts, we've heard that you two were close friends." I shrug. "I mean, I guess you could say that. I mean, we weren't lovers, but we weren't exactly Nick and me close. As Jay from that film would say, 'he's my hetero life mate." "Aren't you bisexual?" "Me? Oh, well yeah, but Nick's straight. He's Mr No-Homo. He's okay with it, I guess. He doesn't want it rubbed in his face. Shit like that. He really didn't like when he came home and saw me getting a blowy on the coffee table. I suppose it was more about my bare ass on the coffee table then the oral sex going on." I light a cigarette. "Those things will kill you, you know." I laugh. "I've heard. I wish they'd hurry up and deliver on the promise. I'm about ready to call false advertising." I take a long drag, letting the silence and smoke hang in the air.
After about a minute and a half, I break the silence. "I killed him. He disrespected me in the worst possible ways. Threw my offerings back in my face, I lost control of myself and I stabbed him to death. It wasn't just one or two stabs, either. I lost complete control of myself. I didn't plan this one, either. It was one of those spur of the moment things, ya know?" "You say it all so casually as if you told me you just decided to see a film instead of going to the theatre. How do you do this?" I lean in close and motion for him to move closer to me. "It's because I really don't care. Once I'm hurt by someone enough times or if that one time is big enough, I lose all empathy, compassion and care for that person. They cease to become a person to me. And do you know why? Because they fail to see me as a person. The only real difference is I have the balls to admit it....also, sometimes I struggle with impulse control, as we both know. I gesture to the file in front of Phil. "Guess I have a few things to work on, eh? I've got all the time in the world in here." I smirk at him. "I guess that is one way of looking at a full term of life imprisonment." I stub my cigarette out.
"If I was American, they'd have given me a lethal injection. I can really see the pros in that, to be honest. And I know they want you guys to hand me over to them to face their justice system for what I did over there, but do to the United Kingdom's views on the death penalty, you won't fork me over until they take that off the table, but they really don't want to because they think I'm a complete monster. Talk about a catch 22." "Do you think you deserve a lethal injection?" "By society's standards, yes. By my own, kinda, but for different reasons." "What would some of those reas-"I cut Phil off. "John got in my face. Talked down to me. Made me feel like absolute shit. I threw him out of my life. Then I saw him walking down one of the streets over by the British Museum and I lost my shit. I heard him laughing, I took it as he was laughing at me, even though in all likelihood, he wasn't. I snuck up behind him, spun him around and stabbed him in the chest again and again. I stabbed him in the throat, then down into his crotch. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to feel as shit as I did. I wanted him to hurt how I hurt. I stood up, realised what had happened, so I dragged him and threw him into one of those giant bins behind some shops. I covered him with rubbish. Then I jumped out, washed my hands and face with some moist towelettes I had in my bag. Thankfully it was dark so no one noticed the blood coating my hoodie. I threw that into a different bin on my way home. As soon as I got home I showered, then cleaned the bath."
"How did you feel after all of this?" "Fucking starving if I'm honest. I just wanted a pizza. I ordered a large one. I still remember it. Tomato, basil, spinach, extra cheese." "No meat?" "No, I'm pretty much a vegan. Cheese is the only thing I like." "Is it for health reasons? It certainly isn't because of mercy!" He snorts. "I'm a big animal lover. Animals in pain bothers me. Most people in pain, I enjoy. Most people deserve what they get. Fuck people. I don't eat meat because I really don't like the taste and most dairy products hurt me. Get us a Diet Coke, will ya?" I tilt my head back in the direction of the mini-fridge. He stands up and heads over to the mini-fridge. "Do help yourself if you're thirsty. I can get more. I'm allowed a shopping list once a week. Nice privilege. I know I only get it because I'm a rare psychological specimen you people expect to poke, prod and get answers out of. It kinda feels like I'm a girl you guys wanna fuck, so you're buttering me up with presents and treats." Phil almost drops the can. "You always have a way of putting things in a perverse light don't you?" "I wouldn't be me if I didn't do it. Sometimes it's actually a defence mechanism. Cheers." I take the can drop him, pop it open and start to guzzle.
"My kills weren't always about pleasure, dominance, pain or to get what I wanted, you know. Each person, each "victim" as you call them are just another part of my story. Another piece of punctuation. Another chapter. Each of them have their own reasons. They were all picked because of who they are, what they brought to me. They were vessels. I used them to transport me from one place to another. Each of them helped me to transform, become another version of me. As I grew and evolved, so did the reasons. Each of them changed me in some way, some bigger than others. The rush of pleasure I felt with some. The waves of relief I felt with some. The sense of accomplishment I felt with some. All of these things, all of these emotions are apart of me. They are all mine. I own them."
"Why don't you want to talk about him?" "If I could remember him better, I would. I don't remember everybody's name. It's not like I kept a little notebook of all the people I've whacked, Jesus, Phil let's be realistic." "Well, he was on the short side, curly brownish hair, hazel eyes...he had a load of freckles." That sparks something. "OH HIM! I think I know who you mean now. He had that odd-shaped scar! It looked like a shark! Yeah, I remember now. Why do you want to know about him?" I light a cigarette. "He's just the next one on my list of inquiries." "You have a list?" "We have a lot of questions for you, Wil. You've been rather busy these last 10 years or so." I shrug. "Well, when you find something you're good at and you enjoy it, where's the reason to take it slow?" Phil's face falls. "This is serial homicide, not knitting." "Both are challenging in their own ways." He shakes his head. "You really are something else."
"You said that you had some questions for me?" I brush off his remark, close my colouring book and look directly at him. "What did you do with him? What happened? From all accounts, we've heard that you two were close friends." I shrug. "I mean, I guess you could say that. I mean, we weren't lovers, but we weren't exactly Nick and me close. As Jay from that film would say, 'he's my hetero life mate." "Aren't you bisexual?" "Me? Oh, well yeah, but Nick's straight. He's Mr No-Homo. He's okay with it, I guess. He doesn't want it rubbed in his face. Shit like that. He really didn't like when he came home and saw me getting a blowy on the coffee table. I suppose it was more about my bare ass on the coffee table then the oral sex going on." I light a cigarette. "Those things will kill you, you know." I laugh. "I've heard. I wish they'd hurry up and deliver on the promise. I'm about ready to call false advertising." I take a long drag, letting the silence and smoke hang in the air.
After about a minute and a half, I break the silence. "I killed him. He disrespected me in the worst possible ways. Threw my offerings back in my face, I lost control of myself and I stabbed him to death. It wasn't just one or two stabs, either. I lost complete control of myself. I didn't plan this one, either. It was one of those spur of the moment things, ya know?" "You say it all so casually as if you told me you just decided to see a film instead of going to the theatre. How do you do this?" I lean in close and motion for him to move closer to me. "It's because I really don't care. Once I'm hurt by someone enough times or if that one time is big enough, I lose all empathy, compassion and care for that person. They cease to become a person to me. And do you know why? Because they fail to see me as a person. The only real difference is I have the balls to admit it....also, sometimes I struggle with impulse control, as we both know. I gesture to the file in front of Phil. "Guess I have a few things to work on, eh? I've got all the time in the world in here." I smirk at him. "I guess that is one way of looking at a full term of life imprisonment." I stub my cigarette out.
"If I was American, they'd have given me a lethal injection. I can really see the pros in that, to be honest. And I know they want you guys to hand me over to them to face their justice system for what I did over there, but do to the United Kingdom's views on the death penalty, you won't fork me over until they take that off the table, but they really don't want to because they think I'm a complete monster. Talk about a catch 22." "Do you think you deserve a lethal injection?" "By society's standards, yes. By my own, kinda, but for different reasons." "What would some of those reas-"I cut Phil off. "John got in my face. Talked down to me. Made me feel like absolute shit. I threw him out of my life. Then I saw him walking down one of the streets over by the British Museum and I lost my shit. I heard him laughing, I took it as he was laughing at me, even though in all likelihood, he wasn't. I snuck up behind him, spun him around and stabbed him in the chest again and again. I stabbed him in the throat, then down into his crotch. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to feel as shit as I did. I wanted him to hurt how I hurt. I stood up, realised what had happened, so I dragged him and threw him into one of those giant bins behind some shops. I covered him with rubbish. Then I jumped out, washed my hands and face with some moist towelettes I had in my bag. Thankfully it was dark so no one noticed the blood coating my hoodie. I threw that into a different bin on my way home. As soon as I got home I showered, then cleaned the bath."
"How did you feel after all of this?" "Fucking starving if I'm honest. I just wanted a pizza. I ordered a large one. I still remember it. Tomato, basil, spinach, extra cheese." "No meat?" "No, I'm pretty much a vegan. Cheese is the only thing I like." "Is it for health reasons? It certainly isn't because of mercy!" He snorts. "I'm a big animal lover. Animals in pain bothers me. Most people in pain, I enjoy. Most people deserve what they get. Fuck people. I don't eat meat because I really don't like the taste and most dairy products hurt me. Get us a Diet Coke, will ya?" I tilt my head back in the direction of the mini-fridge. He stands up and heads over to the mini-fridge. "Do help yourself if you're thirsty. I can get more. I'm allowed a shopping list once a week. Nice privilege. I know I only get it because I'm a rare psychological specimen you people expect to poke, prod and get answers out of. It kinda feels like I'm a girl you guys wanna fuck, so you're buttering me up with presents and treats." Phil almost drops the can. "You always have a way of putting things in a perverse light don't you?" "I wouldn't be me if I didn't do it. Sometimes it's actually a defence mechanism. Cheers." I take the can drop him, pop it open and start to guzzle.
"My kills weren't always about pleasure, dominance, pain or to get what I wanted, you know. Each person, each "victim" as you call them are just another part of my story. Another piece of punctuation. Another chapter. Each of them have their own reasons. They were all picked because of who they are, what they brought to me. They were vessels. I used them to transport me from one place to another. Each of them helped me to transform, become another version of me. As I grew and evolved, so did the reasons. Each of them changed me in some way, some bigger than others. The rush of pleasure I felt with some. The waves of relief I felt with some. The sense of accomplishment I felt with some. All of these things, all of these emotions are apart of me. They are all mine. I own them."
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