September 17, 2010
Dear reader, if you are enjoying this piece then they have caught me and released my diaries to the public. I am most likely either rotting in a prison, or dead. I hope if I'm dead I got the electric chair. It looks so exciting on the television. As you know, (for I am sure they must have told you by now whose writings they have released.) I am "Jack Apron" the serial killer. A name the police gave me since my murders seem to remind them of the "Jack The Ripper" killings. My last name comes from his second nickname, "The Leather Apron." How very creative of them. Anyways, I have rambled on long enough, I'm tired and I will write more in the morning.
September 18, 2010
So, after much thought last night, I realized that if I am ever caught and the police really do release these writings, this would be a way to tell people all about my favorite subject... me! I think I will start with my birth. Even then death wasn't far away; my father was a scientist who practiced, ungodly experiments. Many of which involved me. Even when I was a fetus, my father wanted to test his new abortion drug. It failed, but it poisoned my mother and she would die from it two years later after giving birth to my sister. Good riddance, my mother was just a cheap whore who sold her body to my father's experiments, even to the point of having kids with him. My father was... an interesting man, now that I'm looking back on him. A cruel, vile, unholy man, but still interesting. He believed in the worship of Satan, and he was a genetics scientist. He could never keep a job anywhere, always getting drunk and doing God knows what to the animals in the labs. So, with my mothers whore money funding his experiments, he got the crazy idea that if he used his talents to create a real life demon, Satan would make him rich in life. So he had a son, and this is where my story really starts.
He did many terrible things to me and my sister. Chemical baths, unnecessary surgeries, verbal and... sexual abuse. He made us do terrible things to each other as well. When I was a teenager, about 13 and my sister was 11. He made us... do things to each other. I always loved my sister, so very much. So the incest didn't bother me nearly as much as it did her. She was so beautiful... I think I have written enough today, more later.
September 24, 2010
Sorry, I haven't written in a while, I was busy with my latest guest. Now, where was I? I believe I stopped with my sister and, my father's experiments. These two subjects have an unfortunate crossroads, my sister never survived her childhood. She died when she was only 14, she was never buried. No, not buried. My father believed that to be a demon, I must be an eater of humans... He made me eat my dead sister's corpse, first by starving me in the basement where he kept us. Her body was there with me, but I had to survive, I had to one day kill my father for what he had done to me and my sister... It took me a week and a half to finish her body. I'm sorry I have to cut this so short, I must keep moving.
September 29, 2010
The police are on to me, I know it. I feel like I should finish this story for the sake of making sure people will know the true cruelty of man. At the age of 17 I killed my father. Now let me tell you how, after so many years waiting for a chance, a single moment for me to take advantage of for me to take kill that bastard. While I was in his lab, while he was performing facial surgery on me, before I was put under the gas, he turned around to turn it on and I managed to pick his pocket and hide a small pen into mine. After my limp body had been dumped back into the basement, I eventually woke up and noticed my entire head had been bandaged. It must have been from the surgery, my father had said something about making me look like a demon. I didn't care, I was too excited about my new tool. I had collected many little items throughout my childhood. My new pen, a paperclip, a shoelace, and, a piece of broken glass from a bottle. These will be my weapons to kill my father, tonight is the night.
It was late at night, I walked up to the basement door. I used the paperclip to pick the lock, it was surprisingly easy. But the damn thing breaks inside of the lock, so now all I have is the lace, the glass and my pen. I was on all fours silently crawling and creeping like an animal through the house. I see my father laying in the living room, asleep on the couch. I had the glass in my hand and I screamed as I jammed the shard into his stomach. The scream and the sudden pain woke him, he got up quickly and started punching me in the face. We fought and wrestled throughout the house, the shard still in his stomach, we kept fighting until we were in the lab where our struggle knocked test tubes and viles off of shelves onto us. The chemicals burned my skin so I pushed my father into the corner and beat him in the head until he didn't move. I ripped off my bandages to revival my new face. My skin was a strange gray color, covered in scars, my lips red like blood and deep, black eyes. My longish black hair was missing in a few patches from all the surgeries and yet, out of all these deformities, I had a great smile, I still do. And I did smile then as I do now when I kill. I looked at my lifeless father with my new eyes and he started to move. So I picked up a bottle of acid that I remember he used to use on me as a child to burn away my thumbprints. And I poured it on his face, then I started to kick him, I kicked his head, his torso, arms, legs I just kept kicking until I knew he was dead, then I kicked him more, I kicked and kicked until my legs gave out and I fell to the ground.
It took me about an hour to gain my strength back, I got up and looked at what I had done, my fathers body was now a dead pile of bloody meat, and I was so glad, I was free now and I had only one thing on my mind. If one man could be so cruel, then all humans must be. Truly I must destroy these foul creatures one, by one. In a funny bit of irony, my father had succeeded, he created a demon. A demon who slayed the devil and, escaped from hell itself. And now I was free to do whatever I pleased. And so far, I've done nothing but that. And that is how demons are made.