It smelled delicious, it tasted wonderful, and it's looked gorgeous. I couldn't help myself. It was too much for me to handle, I sort of…snapped? Well, you understand what I mean. Snapped seems too violent. I wasn't doing anything bad, just making some beautiful, beautiful art. You understand what I mean right? I did nothing bad. Please don't judge me. I'm a good person. Stop staring at me.
They must have expected it, right? I mean, they always stared at me with such knowing eyes, it drove me insane. Not literally insane, though. I am perfectly sane and always have been. Whenever I walked by, I swear I could hear whispering. I bet they were whispering about me this whole time, I hated it. They muttered, mumbled, whispered stared, it was horrible I hated it. I wanted to tell them, but I didn't. I think. I think I told them once, though. Only once, but it still continued. I told them. Stop whispering.
They seemed so strange in my presence. Whenever I talked, they would smile. Not that happy smile though, it was a scary smile. I hated it when they smiled and stared. They always did that and it was always so fake. I've never heard their real laughs. Or real seen their real smiles. I've never seen a real smile, I don't think. They never gave me mirrors, so I couldn't look at my mouth and see what a smile looked like. But even so, I don't think I would know, because I haven't been happy with them. I don't know what happiness is, really. Please understand. I couldn't help it, they gave me nothing to be happy about. Stop smiling.
When they talked, they always sounded so tense. Was it me? I don't know. I tried to hide around the corner. Maybe they knew I was there. They sounded so tense all of the time, they never talked calmly and they whispered and stares and faked everything. I hated them, please understand. I wanted them to stop that…that thing they were doing. It was horrible, I hated it. Stop ignoring me.
I mean, I lasted for so long with this. It was okay; I had a home, a place to stay. They couldn't ruin that. But it was the last straw when they ignored me on my birthday. A 'Happy Birthday' would have been nice. I could have settled for even the slightest nod of acknowledgement, but I didn't even get that. They didn't stare at me, they didn't fake their smiles, they didn't whisper, they didn't talk, I didn't understand. They were ignoring me, I hated it so much. I wanted to scream at them, yell, but I just 'smiled' through it all. I wonder if I even smiled, my memory is foggy. What did I do, where was I, who was I, I couldn't remember a thing. I could only just sit on the kitchen stool and wait. I played with one of the kitchen knives, poking little holes into my fingers. Small drops of red came out that I had never seen before. What was it? They always kept me so isolated; I don't know what anything is, really. I liked the red of it, though. Red has always been one of my favorite colors. It's so pretty and this red was so rich and shiny. I licked it. It came from my body, right? So it must be okay for me to eat, right? It tasted metallic, or something. There was a strange sensation in the back of my throat, it was amazing. I sucked the red stuff from my fingers until the very last drop. Dragging the knife across my hand, I cut open the skin to see more of the stuff. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but the sight of the red stuff made it worth it. Don't you understand?
One of them came into the kitchen asking me about all of the 'blood'. I learned a new word. I wondered though, did all humans have this? Blood? Or was I special and one of a kind? I grabbed their hand, ignoring their protests, and stabbed the tip of the knife in their palm. They screamed in pain, which makes sense because I accidentally pushed it too hard. If it hurt that much on my hand, it probably hurt more on theirs. When I saw the 'blood' come out, I was disappointed. I wasn't special after all. But my optimistic thinking helped me. Maybe they were special too! But that means there is two of us. To be special, I needed to be the only one. That means getting rid of them. I killed her in the bloodiest way I could, watching the 'blood' fill the floor like water. When another one of them came in, I tested them for the red stuff, and saw they had it too. So they were gone. Next thing I know, they were all gone. The red stuff, calling it 'blood' made me uncomfortable, was like an ocean in the kitchen. The bodies seemed to float on the 'water'. I smiled, enjoying the scene. Surrounded in such beauty was magnificent. But those bodies were ruining it. They stared at me, judging me. They seemed to whisper about me, saying horrible things to me. Were they smiling? They looked like they were smiling, giggling at me, making fun of me. And at the same time, they ignored me. All of them. I hated it, I wanted it to stop. I screamed at them. Stop staring at me. Stop whispering. Stop smiling. Stop ignoring me. I screamed at them countless of times before running out of my sanctuary. Those bodies were ruining it, they were ruining it.
And then I saw it.
In the next room over, the living room, there was this huge banner. A beautiful, red cake sat on the table in the center, balloons were everywhere, and a small pile of gifts were stacked in the corner. I stumbled backwards. The stares made sense. They were figuring me out, trying to find what I wanted, trying to see if I knew what was happening. The whispers made sense. They were talking about this party. The smiling made sense. They were nervous that I may have known. The ignoring. It smashed into me, breaking me inside out. They were setting this up. I ran back into the kitchen. Grabbing on to each of them individually. I asked them to come back. I screamed how sorry I was, hoping they'd hear. That red stuff came from the body, so it might be important right? Seeing how pale they were, I realized it was important. Seeing those cuts and slices made me want to hurl. They might not heal. I remembered one thing they taught me, though. A pulse. To see if someone was a live, you had to check for their pulse.
I grabbed the closest one and felt for something, anything at all. I got nothing. Plopping down on the wet floor, I just sat there for a long time, crying. The police came and they took me. I didn't know why. I didn't understand what I had done wrong, I didn't know. I didn't want to hurt them. I wanted to see the red stuff some more, I didn't mean it. I cried and cried, begging them not to judge me. I don't want to be judged. They only stared. I hated it so much, I hated it. I didn't mean to do anything. So I just continued to beg and beg.
Please don't judge me.
I didn't mean to.
Please don't just me.
They ignored me and left me on the cold, hard floor of the cell.
Please don't judge me.
I didn't know.
When I heard no response, I stopped talking and just cried and cried.