I'm Obsessed With Serial Killers

In Lily’s absence, my life has become entirely mechanical. Every thought I entertained, every move I made was planned out around the idea of the kill. I am the killer, I create my own life by ending that of others.
Really the thought of it all is what began to fascinate me. Every murder scene I painted was stained with the philosophy of who I am, what I am, who and what I am to become with each new drop of blood shed from another person.
I snuck up behind the man, knife held firmly in my gloved hands. Every kill meant more experience, every murder created more life, and every compulsion enhanced my sin. Quickly and with acute precision, I slid the knife along his neck. The skin split like a zipper, blood spilled out, soaking the knife first, and spreading out one direction to soak my glove, another direction to drench his tattered clothing. I took the knife up to my tongue, running the dull edge gently along in order to lick up the drops of blood, just enough to get a small taste of the warm iron before the feast later on. Already drenched in blood, I felt the body needed a few more slices of mutilation before I took it up to the cabin for proper disposal.
A slash across the abdomen revealed a glimpse of organs that piqued my curiosity until I couldn’t resist but to dig deeper, slicing the flesh until the intestines were in plain sight, just waiting to fall out of the corpse and uncovered into my gloved hands. They were grimy, tube-like, nothing that looked the least bit appetizing. For kicks, I cut the tubes into smaller slices before shoving them back into the man’s cut-up abdomen. It didn’t really matter to me that they were so carelessly placed – the body would end up the same way as the rest of them, regardless.
I painted another disposal. Dismember the body, keep some for food, and throw out the rest. It was all the same, to the point of madness. This was all I had, everything I could remember about my life.
I needed Lily to come back. I just did.

After the kill, I sat near my window and stared at the atmosphere. The sky was cloudy and grey, it was nearly impossible to see any stars. The city lights prevented the darkness of the night from coming over my apartment building, but I had grown used to this. In a way it was comforting, being a killer myself, I could deduce that no other killer would successfully come after me in this place (not that I was afraid of fellow serial killers or anything).
Lily’s new boy friend was still over. Sometimes I could hear faint laughter through the walls but I never paid it much attention. I spent my hours in front of the window, just staring. How does the world even work? How did society come to be, and why is it the way it is? What is the underlying reason that society deemed murder as wrong, why do they claim there is a difference between meat from a human, a cat, a cow, a chicken, and a fish? If it was only a matter of taste, then why would there be so much more attached to meat consumption? There seems to be no logical reason why one would choose not to eat red meat for ethical reasons, or even to only eat fish. I didn’t even see a logical reason why cannibalism would be such a bad thing. Sure, it might be less healthy than a chicken feast, but that can’t matter to people. If it did, McDonald’s would not be nearly as successful. Perhaps it’s all linked to the fear of death itself.
Watching another person die might remind one of their own fate.
Maybe the very sight of a dead body reminds them of this.
And that scares them. It scares the living hell out of all of the ignorant minds in society, so they reject it.
This is why people like me have to hide for our lives.

I turned up the Radiohead I had playing through my stereo in order to drown out the sounds from Lily’s apartment. I don’t know why it bothered me so much in that moment, to know she was happy with someone else. Lily doesn’t need me. I don’t like it, which is strange because I don’t think I need her either.
I leaned back and shut my eyes, watching the little blurs of light dance along to Kid A. I would figure this out eventually, I just needed to clear my mind first.