KENNEDY, kieran samuel

[kieran samuel kennedy]

kieran samuel kennedy.

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twentyeight. resident. serial killer. zacky vengeance.[/font][/i]

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im sure by now you know exactly who i am. you have heard my name and feared it for years, and just when you thought it was safe to walk the city streets alone, im back. youve heard many accountings of my tale, both fictious and non, and im sure you all have quite the curiosity as to what my story truely is, who i am, where i come from. honestly, its none of your damn business, to say the least, but here in my memoire i am granting you a privledge into knowing who i am, who i was, and who i shall become as the pages continue to pass within this. my older enteries shall be stuck in this and binded as well, so if you come across them, you may try to decipher them, but i doubt youll understand many of their meanings as they were related to events at the time. i will use them to reaccount information though, so dont worry, youll know quite enough by the time any of you will be able to read this, perhaps too much. you will learn all of the gruesome details of everything youve ever seen in your nightmares coming to life that most likely happened to someone you know. my numbers reach into the multiple hundreds, more then the police know about, more then you can imagine.

i suppose where a proper place to begin at is, of course, the beginning, as all tales seem to do logically in some form or another, for the most part. they say that all serial killers come from broken families, from abuse, from places of great despair, and if you think so, thats a horrible, horrible misunderstanding. you see, there was nothing at all wrong with my family. my family was a typical american family. my father worked, and my mother stayed at home. we had a dog and a white picket fence. it was almost disgustingly wonderful to any of the outside world. my parents were loving towards one another, they had a great marriage, and they hardly ever fought. they put a strong emphasis into family bonds, both in immediate and outside family. holidays were important and often extravagent, filled with wholesome, comforting food, treats, and presents more then anyone could image. school was important to them, and they often said that without doing well in school, it would put a damper on the things that you could do in life. oh, how right they were. we spent quality time together, going on vacations and even just doing chores around the house. i often remember a long, very long time ago sitting on my fathers lap while my mother played piano and sang. again, as i said, it was disgustingly wonderful. it was so sweet that it could put you into a coma, and part of me misses that. i missed who i was, and who my family was before this harsh reality sat in. i loved the fact that we were secluded, that the horrible events of the outside world seemed to have no effect on us. i loved that i could depend on them for anything and everything when i needed them, so i thought. we had a great life for years and it was perfect, simply wonderful.

but, as you know in stories as in life, all good things must come to an end. they have to change and grow, or deminish, to decay or flourish. the first seven years of my life were like that. they were sickeningly sweet and perfect in every way, until my parents started to notice a change in me. i was content though, content in living in my world. i enjoyed my time alone playing with my friends in the great backyard and coming up with inventive games as most children do. i ca reaccount my friends and their every detail without flaw. my mind remembers them perfectly, and i had no idea that my happiness would cause such a problem in later years. i was seven years old, and my parents had decided that seven year olds were too old for imaginary playmates. they were too old to fabricate stories such as i did of great afternoons on the swingsets, and the injuries my friend had had when he fell out of the tree in the backyard and broke his arm. i was too old to know what it felt like to hug my friend as he cried because his father often yelled at him and drank too much. i knew what it was like to laugh with them, to play, to hold, to cry, to see them change. it seemed though, that i was making it up. the friends that i had spent time with since i was three years old never even existed to them. they were fabricated, imaginary, fake.

they told me then that i needed to be a big boy, to grow up and stop making things up. i desperately tried to get them to believe me, to get them to just talk to my friends like they used to, to see them, but despite my attempts, they couldnt. rather, in my seven year old frame of mind, they refused to. they refused to see the people that i knew existed, by all means of existance, and they were just trying to take away my happiness. even the teachers had mentioned to them on multiple accounts that they had spotted me talking to myself and laughing, wrapping my arms around air. they suggested that i see a specialist, but my parents said that they could break my of it first. i had friends at school though, people i talked to, but for the most part the children seemed to avoid me at times. i had come to the conclusion that they were jealous of the friendships i had, and even to this day it is most technically true. i had amazing friendships and kinships that would last me a lifetime, had i been allowed to grow up with them, but i wasnt.

my parents decided on a course of action towards me, one that i had never imagined would happen. it seemed as though they were desperately trying to break my of all my problems that seemed to exist to the people around them. you see, i had no problem with it, my problems, that is. it wasnt a problem to me. i was happy. i was flourishing. i was whole. they seemed to think that there was a flaw in my thinking though, and that they had gone wrong with their parenting. they accused themselves of playing into my fantasies for too long, though some of my friends they had never met until months earlier that i had talked about for a couple of years. i started hearing more of things not existing, of my friends not being there, then i did of people who were. it was fustrating to say the least. my parents were then forced to take more extreme action then explaination, something that they werent comfortable with. the thought of their son still refusing to see truths was stressful to them because of the hounding of the community, and in their desperation, i lost my rights as a member of the houshold. at first, the punishments were small because my parents were new at the whole thing of punishment. i had never been punished a day in my life. i had never acted out. i always followed what i was supposed to do. i would lose my right to go outside, to read my books, to watch television. soon it moved on to missing out on dessert, on dinner, on lunch. then i was sent to my room. each punishment felt like a blow more and more. i couldnt understand what i was doing wrong. i was being honest and truthful, like i was brought up to be, and if continually brought me nothing but disappointment and sorrow.

the punishments were gradual, but frequent, as it seemed. i didnt know what i was allowed to tell them, and what i wasnt. my best friend though, noah as he was called, the one with the drunken father, wouldnt allow me to be by myself for too long. i was so young then, and i remember crying myself to sleep often, not knowing what to do. i was feeling so lost and alone and i couldnt imagine why my parents were being this way, why they had rejected my friends that they seemed to love. anyway, noah wouldnt allow any of this to happen for too long, you see. he began sneaking in my window as sun was setting when he knew i would be sent to my room by. it was a pattern, and my room was an isolation chamber. noah did his best to make me laugh, to tell me stories, and retell old memories of ours in a big fish tale fashion, and i adored him for it. i spent hours upon hours talking with him, laughing and crying, telling him what i was going through, and he understood it all. i couldnt have made it through the beginning of my life without him.

as my parents saw the cycle not improve, they decided to start taking things from me a little at a time. first it was my books, packing them in boxes and putting them in the attic with a lock. then it was my furniture. my clothing. my chairs. my desk. my bed. i was left in an empty room, with empty walls, with nothing around me. they would lock me in there and tell me that when i would start telling the truth, they would allow me to have my things back. as parents, they didnt have to allow me all of the things that i had. they were privledges, and not rights, and i should have been lucky and thankful to have them. and i was. i loved my things and i felt like i had an extremely comfortable life, but as they took everything from me, i retreated into myself. i had been decreasing my level of communications over the years since they began, i was ten now, and it didnt seem to help. noah still came to me every night, and he would sleep on the floor with me and be gone by morning, keeping me company as loyal as ever, but soon my parents began hearing our conversations. they began listening into my room, wondering why i wasnt bawling and begging for them to allow me out, that i was sorry for lying to them. it was because that no matter how much they took from me, i was never alone. i always had my best friend, and they could never take noah from me no matter how much they tried. he promised me that, and i promised him that i would never leave him either. it was a friendship based on trust and love, and we would never stray from one another. we needed each other, and that was a fact.

my parents would begin breaking into my rooms during our conversations, and somehow, noah always managed to escape to the closet to hide just when i thought there was no hope. but that didnt matter. i would be screamed at by them and told that if i didnt stop, they would send me away. i couldnt stop though. it seemed that although my two realities intertwined, coexisted, and mingled together, theirs did not. they couldnt see what i could, feel what i could, experience what i could. i desperately continued my explainations as they screamed at me, but it wasnt enough. my father was the first to do it. they very first slap to the face that he gave me broke me. it simply broke me and i couldnt even fathom what had just happened. i sobbed the whole night after that, and periodically the next day about it. but the abuse didnt stop there. the stress was getting to them, and they wanted me to see the light so badly that they were willing to result to extreme forces on a ten year old child.

my father had started drinking when i was eight or so, and by now it was a full on addiction. my mother was extremely depressed and the light from her face was gone. my perfect little family was falling apart, and it was all my fault, as my father had continued to tell me countless times. my father was turning into just the same person that noahs father was, and it was frightening how similar our stories were becoming, but it only brought us close together. noah threatened to kill my father multiple times with his filthy mouth, and i refused to let him. he told me that no friend of his was ever allowed the pain that he went through and he would protect me, but he couldnt. we were ten year old boys, and ten year old little boys could never stand up to full grown men.

my fathers hits turned into beatings, and the beatings were more and more frequent and harsh with the alcohol. i was left with bruises all over my body, cuts on my face, bloody lips and swollen eyes. the school never though anything of it. an insane child often would harm themself and they caught me rocking violently on a number of occasions, so they knew from the evidence i was crazy, as they put it. as the abuse got worse, i retreated more into myself. i would rock myself to sleep, never talk to anyone during the day, and hardly eat. i looked like a corpse from the mental and physical anguish, and no one seemed to notice, but in the pictures it is almost horrifying. luckily, many of those pictures no longer exist.

as my eleventh birthday approached, there was a signifigant event that would change my physical makeup for the remander of my life, and one that i often am plagued with, even now as i sit here writing this out for you. i can remember the day clearly. it was three days before my birthday, and in a time that my parents would have been making plans years before, they seemed to have forgot. i knew that from the previous years that i would not have a cake, i would not have presents, and i would not be wished a happy birthday. i became callused to all of their abuse mentally by now, though the physical still seemed to weigh on my body. noah told me it was easier this way. it was easier to just ignore the pain, to forget it was there, to not feel anything at all then to let things get to you, to allow yourself to be broken. it was time to be strong and man up, and i did that. my father would hit me and i would just look away without a wince, without a sound. it angered him more, but it didnt phase me. i took it, just as noah said to do, and i saved my energy, what little emotion i still had for him.

as i was saying, it was three days before my eleventh birthday, and my father had been drunk as he normally was. the smell of alcohol seemed to be permenantly burned into his skin, into his mouth, into his breaht. i could smell him coming, but i just continued to sit there, staring at the wall quietly as i had spent many of my days doing. my stupor angered my parents, but again, by this point i didnt care. he talked to me, so he said, for some great time without an answer from me. i didnt hear a thing. many people had told me the same thing, so i knew that it was possible that i blocked the entire world out too, even without telling myself to. he hated that though. it was disrespectful to him and it turned into a huge fight. he screamed at me for a good half hour, as i recall, slapping my around and shoving me into walls. my mother just went about cooking dinner, even as she heard glass shattering from the table under me. he was red in the face, and i was sure he was just about going to give himself a heart attack. his teeth were baring and grit and his eyes were on fire. he proceeded to scream at me about how i ruined everything, how i ruined his life and his marriage and how he hoped that he would never set his eyes on my pathetic face again. he hated me, he told me that so often that i lost count. i knew he did. i could see it in his eyes, in his face, i could feel the wrath of his black heart. he didnt need to tell me, but he did.

he was tearing apart the living room with my body. i was thrown into so many objects that it was almost enough to make me nascious. i broke through our glass coffee table, put a hole in the wall, bounced off the couch, thrown to the floor, and still, with effort, i got up from each event. i wouldnt allow myself to stay down, to show my weakness like noah warned my against. weakness was going to be the death of you, and i didnt want to die yet at that point in my life, though i thought about it. i couldnt leave noah. i drug myself to my feet each time, body shaking, bleeding, in pain, but my face stayed the same. i didnt show him how much my body was screaming. i just breathed through it. it was when i did speak though, he completely lost it. i told him that once upon a time he told me that a good father never lays his hand on his child in anger or rage, but in love with a warm heart and soft touch. the fact that i recalled that information made him boil and he proceeded to tell me that i was no child of his, that i had ruined his life, and that he never wanted to see me again and he hoped that i would die alone and let him live his life. with that, he proceeded to fling my small body out the front door like a rag doll. that even surprised me at how easily he flung my body through the air. i hit the support beam or out porch in the middle of my back and it was followed by a disgustingly loud and agonizing pop as i was wrapped around it and crumpled to the wooden floor in a heap. i couldnt move at that point, and i figured i was dead when i broke my back.

my father just left the house, walking by me and headed to his car, as if nothing happened, and he took off. it was my mother who found me on the porch like that. i remembered it being so hard to breathe that i just wanted to go to sleep, but i couldnt. i felt like someone ran me over with a truck. my body was pulsating, throbbing, and bleeding, and i was finished. she picked me up with some effort, and carried me into the house, putting me in my room and shutting the door. she didnt want the police coming in to arrest my father for that, so she called the school the next morning and told them that we were in a car accident and that was how i broke my back and i wouldnt be able to attend school for some time. i never went to a hospital though. i laid on the hard floor of my room with little to no movement for months as my back tried to correct itself. it took me some time to get feeling back in my feet from where my spinal chord swelled at the break. it also left my back looking disfigured through my skin in my spine, and me in agony at times from the pain in it from not healing properly. i hardly show it though. most people dont know unless they take a look at my back and feel it. noah spent my birthday with me anyhow, and he told me that he was going to kill my father, to murder him, and for once, i didnt tell him not to.

as i was in my room though, alone, laying there for the months that my back was healing, i began hearing voices. they were whispers at first, and just one voice, but as i laid there i the empty room, alone, in the dark, they seemed to progress at a steady rate. soon at times it would be so bad that it sounded like there were four or five conversations chorusing in my ears. i began seeing shawdow people as well. they formed in the corners of my room, in the dark closet, and even next to me. they made me anxious and i couldnt take my eyes off of them. there was no one to protect me from the demons appearing fromt he shadows, and no one to ask to help me. noah wasnt around all the time, having difficulities with his own family, so although he was there a lot, it was when he wasnt there that all of these things were worse. i told him about them and he told me that he thought it was normal, that he heard them to, so i couldnt be crazy. although they would quite around him and disapate, they were even still around when he was there as i got older, and when noah couldnt fix something, it was unfixable.

at thirteen, my parents couldnt take it anymore. after about six years or so of trying to corret my bad habit of fabricating things, talking to myself, and stupor episodes, they sent me off to an institution. infact, they even said that i was dangerous, that i had come at my mother with a kitchen knife, and the police were the ones who came and took me off. this was a completely false story, or course, they just didnt want to have to pay for me to be institutionalized and this was their way around it. if they made up a story, i would be put in because i could harm others and they said i wasnt in a state of mental health to make decisions for myself, even though i was a minor and it wouldnt have much counted for anything, and they loved me very much and this was the best thing for me. it wasnt the best thing for me, of course, it was the best thing for them, but you would probably say otherwise.

the institution was called rian dawson institute for mental health, and yes my record still exists there. they treated me as any other patient that came in. they ran tests on me of all types, drew blood, asked questions. i didnt answer a single one though. i couldnt keep eye contact when they asked me to, i never could even before this time, and i didnt flinch when they stuck me with needles. they began attempting to diagnois me and they put me on all sorts of a dietry of pills to see if any of them helped my state or changed it. they could see little to no effects though without the use of a cat scan, and i became a subject of interest because i was different from the others.

i hated the place with every fiber of my being though. it was disgusting and horrible an they treated people like animals. i was seeing a pattern in humainty, that was for sure, they always said that unique attributes were something to be proud of, but anyone that was different then they were were condemed without any bending of your minds perception into how another person mat think and percieve things. i saw people tortured there in an inhumane way, they took their mental states and put them under a microscope of testing without second thought as to how the patient felt about it. they scared peopel to see reactions, hurt them to know if they could percieve pain, they did everything in their power to disect everyone as if it was their god given right to learn how we worked like some broken machine. we werent the broken ones though, none of us were. we just worke on a different level, just as someone that wasnt apart of one society and came to another would. they just didnt understand that. they never saw it. they didnt want to. all they cared about was money and collecting data as if they were going to turn it in for some noble peace prize. we were just a trophy to be collected, to show off that they could make a difference in someone by giving them a pill.

the place didnt help me at all with my mental state like it was supposedly to be used for. they gave me all sorts of medication to supress parts of my brain and enhance others in hopes that my schizophrenic episodes would come to a hault, but i would hide them under my tongue and spit them out when they werent looking. there was no way in hell i was going to take those pills and become more of a shell of my former self. i knew i didnt need them. i wasnt crazy, and neither were any of these people in here. i saw what happened to those who took th epills and i didnt like it at all. it was almost as if they lost their humanity. their moods were stagnant almost, fake even. they seemed to just do as they were told like robots and had no free will. they seemed depressed as well. the spark out of their lives were gone. they would talk and it would be as if they were talking to an empty room full of only chairs without th ebodies to occupy them. it was sad, and a little frightening that that could have been me. if i had began those pills i probably wouldnt have the will power to stop it. i much prefered the company of those like me who faked the pills.

i couldnt stand my roomate either. he was the type of guy who liked to push buttons. he was one of the more sane people in there. he had bipolar mania, so most of the time he was pretty alright until something clicked. he was a sarcastic bastard, that was for sure, and seventeen, so he thought he was a big shot living with a kid that was four years his junior. he would catch me rocking myself and staring at the corners of the room, talking to seemingly myself, and he would make fun of me. poke at it. this place had already driven me further from myself, they made me lose it even more, so i wasnt taking any of his chidings too lightly. it pissed me the hell off, and i noticed that when i get pissed, im almost not in control of my own body, and i dont want to be. it feels good to let everything out, so we definitely got into multiple fights, and they would be blamed on me. i would be given a sedative into the arm with a needle and pass right out to sleep. that part didnt bother me too much the next morning, though i could have torn somebodies head off at the time. at least i got a decent nights sleep under the sedative.

the fighting would get worse though. once i had a taste of what it felt like to let all my anger out, it felt amazing. it was euphoric, and it was demonizing, and addicting, and i loved it. he was starting to bring out an animal in me with a need to survive, and that was what i was going to do. survive. one day during one of our altercations though, he went too far. he began tearing at my clothing in a show of dominance, getting ready to rape me, and i put him in his place, to say the least. i grabbed one of the pens that was sitting on my desk and shoved it full force into his jugular, stopping him almost dead in his tracks. by this time the security and doctors were already on their way in, hearing the fight, and i couldnt help but smile at the look on his face as the blood was pouring from his neck, blood bubbling from his lips with every wet gasp for air, and the life was draining from that bastards face. no one fucked with me. no one. and i just proved that. he lived though, unfortunately, and i was drug off and put into a straight jacket and thrown into a white padded room.

i never understood how that was supposed to calm someone down, even to this day. i usually figure out logic behind the human way of processing information and coming to conclusions, but white padded rooms and straight jackets are so obvious to have the opposite effect that they desire. i suppose in one instance you cant hurt anyone while youre in isolation, but it definitely gave you time to become one angry son of a bitch. it did that to me. i was demonic during the times that i spent in isolation. i thrashed against the walls and tried my best to become houdini and escape from my seemingly unescapeable prison. i did everything in my power to break out until i was too tired to move. the voices would scream to me all sorts of bizzare and evil things, and by the time they were ready to let me out, i was ready to murder someone, literally.

my mental state never improved in there unless they shoved needles into my veins. even then, the voices stopped and the people disappeared, but i became awefully depressed and lonely. i was so used to someone always being there that the quiet scared me. true, sometimes the voices were too much, but i never wanted them to be gone forever. it was as if all the life in the world just stopped, and it was a scary thing. when you are used to living in two realities, living in one can be a horrible feeling, and i swore to myself that id never want that. the truth was, it wasnt the fact that living in one reality bothered me, as i came to find. it was living in this reality alone that bothered me. i didnt want to be stuck in a place where no one understood me and no one tried to. i didnt want to be in a place with narrow minded idiots and alone in my thoughts. it scared the shit out of me as a kid, and im still not fond of the thought now. this reality is bullshit.

the place wasnt all bad though, as i came to find out as i spent more time there. i met a girl the first year i was there, and like noah, she soon became my everything. she was breathtakingly beautiful, i have to admit. she had the purest color of raven hair that seemed to shine and dazzle in even the darkness, her eyes were stunning shade of emerald, her skin was snow white, and her lips were a pearly rose. she was the most goddamn beautiful thing that i had ever seen in my life, and i had to admit i felt like i was in love the first time i saw her. her name was sarah-beth, and she had a severe eating disorder followed by a fluxuating depression, but she seemed absolutely perfect to me. she was the same age as i was, her being only a month short of me, and i simply couldnt get enough of her.

about a month after we met each other, i got the courage up to ask her to be my girlfriend and we spent countless hours together, smiling and laughing. those were two things that i never thought that i would have done again after noah was gone, but i was wrong. she made me the happiest i had been in a long time, even happier then noah did, and i couldnt even imagine a single day without her. she was mine, and i was hers, and it was enough for me to have something to live for, to strive for. we both wanted out of that place so we could start taking on the world together, even at thirteen. we thought we were invincible together, and for the most part we were. because of her, i tried to hone my acting skills, to get them together so that we could get out, and she slowly began eating more and putting on a few pounds. i didnt know it was possible, but she looked even more beautiful as her skeleton like features began filling out. i was sure that there was nothing that could change how beautiful she was.

about a year after we began dating was the first time that we had made love. it wasnt anything that we had planned, but the opportunity arose when we could get away with it, and it was something that we had gotten close to doing often enough. the two of us snuck off to one of the rooms and put a chair under the door, locking it to the outside world, and we quietly came together in a blissful state. i remembered that after i removed the chair and we both redressed that we laid there, holding each other for hours, and it was one of the happiest moments of my life. that was when i knew she had my heart fully. there was no way i was ever going to love a girl the way i loved her, and i was going to marry her. i knew i would. there was no other girl that would ever compare to her, and i was right. i have never loved anyone in the same way i loved her.

my bliss didnt last long though. soon they began putting me in isolation more and more and i couldnt understand why. i wasnt doing anything wrong at that time, and when they started questioning me on who i continually talked to and i explained to them who she was, they began telling me that she never existed, that she was only in my mind. i refused to believe it. i refused to believe anything they tried to tell me and i desperately, so desperately tried to get them to believe me, but they didnt. like my parents, they began resorting to more extreme measures of reinforcement. shock therapy. i was electrocuted more times then i could count, enough to burn my arms, ankles, and head where the bands laid. i was numb inside. when everything seemed to get better, it got worse. i hated everything about this earth, and when i had the opportunity to murder them, i would, but the chance never arose until years later. they took everything from me, and in return i would take everything from them, and without mercy.

i did know that i wanted to get out of that place as soon as possible, so i began agreeing with everything that they said about me and explaining to them that i was just being difficult before. i kept to myself more then ever unless i was talking to the doctors. i didnt dare speak to anyone whom they didnt speak to first, because i didnt want to back track on my quote treatment unquote. i found that with ignorant people, it is best to just tell them that they are right about everything and allow them to hapily boast on it so you can get on with your life much sooner. i was becoming more cunning then i ever believed i would be, and soon enough, i was finding myself on the road out of the hell hole. the only problem with that was that i was a minor and at fifteen, they would send me back to my parents.

once i was sent home to be back with my parents, i found that nothing had changed. my father was still as drunk as a motherfucker and my mother was still depressed, though she was hardly ever around. infact, i didnt even see her the day i was home. when i got there, noahs house was abandoned, my room was left empty, and everything i had ever owned was gone. it wasnt my home, not that it was much of one before. there was nothing there for me, and i knew it was a good time for me to move on. the night that i got to their house, i left it. i didnt know where i was going to stay, what i was going to eat, how i was going to live, but i wasnt going to force myself to endure something i didnt have to. the worst thing they could do to me would be to send me back to the asylum, and while i was in there, i learned how to hack into the security systems, shut down cameras, and operate machinery by watching them. they had nothing on me.

living on the streets isnt as difficult as everyone makes it seem. if you have half a brain, you can do it. unfortunately, a majority of the population has no brain at all, so they are unable to survive on what they can get for themselves, only what they are given. i slept in alleyways and stole my food and clothing, i talked to those on the streets around me and learned about life, i took everything in like a sponge, and i learned. that is a major flaw in society today. humanity has the ability to evolve, yet they chose to de evolve and become nothing but a waste of air. its sad really, but on the streets, it will shape you up really quick, or youll die. it was at this time that i really began drinking more and smoking like a chiminey as i could bum cigarettes off of people, and i even started using drugs. life wasnt bad, and infact i much preferred it to the life that i had at my old house. it was more my pace, and although the violence was still involved, i began bulking up and exercising, growing stronger and faster. i also began getting tattoos with dirty needles, prison style, and piercings to suit my fancy. i felt no pain, so it wasnt an issue. i was ready to live my life out in the alleys, but i was surprised at how soon i would find shelter.

her name was aspeth blake, and she was a gorgeous little thing. she was about thirteen or so when i met her at a drug dealers house. she was there buying some ex, and i was there looking for anything i could get my hands on. she was gorgeous, that was for sure. she had white blode hair and porcline skin, and she was just cute as hell. she reminded me a lot of my sarah beth in some ways, though aspeth was a fucking pistol. she was mean as hell and snappy, and i had to admit that it sparked something in me slightly. she annoyed the fuck out of me from the moment i met her, but she also intrigued me. there was something about her that drew me to her, despite my trying to avoid everyone in humanity at all costs.

she approached me first as she was on her way out the door. commenting on my tattoos and showing some of her own. i thought this could work to my favor. i could use her to my advantage, score some drugs off of her, bum a meal, steal her dry, and get the hell out of there. i was smooth with my talking and my gestures, i was cunning and seductive, and she fell for it. she was a stupid girl, like many stupid girls, and she brought me back to her house, sneaking me in when her parents werent around. she fed me that night a meal fit for a king, and we spent the evening drinking vodka and smoking pot. it was one that i lost the ending of the night to, but i know that it was the beginning of something important for me.

after that, i began sneaking into her window at night quite often, and she would feed me and make me shower, and i had somewhere to go that wasnt horrible for once. i was cautious around her still, and i didnt tell her anything about my life and she knew not to ask questions. it was as if only the present mattered, and that was how i liked to live. we fought like hell though. we yelled and screamed at each other at times when her parents werent around, otherwise it was hushed fighting about anything and everything at all. she was hard headed and stubborn, and i was the same. it never lasted too long though. somehow we always let it go and i began sleeping over there, falling asleep with her in my arms, and always leaving before the sun was up. i wouldnt have traded it for the world.

i got a job at a tattoo shop when i was sixteen or so and i was able to forge my paperwork in order to work there, and they thought i was older then i was anyway. it seemed that tattoo artists were always easier for me to relate to anyway. they were artists, more abstract in their thinking, rebels.. i apperciated it highly. i was paid fairly well to work there. i was the shop manager and i caught on quickly to everything that they needed done, and although my mental health was declining, i could still keep up with them. one of the best parts about my job was free tattoos, so both i and aspeth took major advantage of them. it was my way of repaying her for what she had done for me, and we had begun to become even closer as time went by. i still kept a fair distance from her, but she was growing on me. she had that something special that others in the world lacked, and it surprised me because she was such a pain in the ass.

she could be everything i loathed and everything that i loved all into one. i didnt know how it was possible, but she had th ability to drive me crazy and id want to beat the shit out of her, but shed just give me one look and i couldnt help but let it go. she could get away with murder around me like i would get away with around her in later dates. she was something special, and try as i might to resist it, i couldnt ignore it. we never spoke of our feelings for one another, but i began to get the impression that she felt the same for me as i did for her. we understood eachother like no one had up to this point. even aspeth understood more of how my moods worked and what to say and avoid then sarah beth or even noah did. that was back then though, things have changed by now, but at the time it was a beautiful thing. i could just give her a look and she would know what to do. the slightest gesture i made and shed know how to respond. i had to be crossing realities again, but everyone around me talked to her, so she must have existed in the reality as well, right?

time seemed to go by slowly. my life was decent... no, my life was good. i loved having my own place, which i bought when i was seventeen, and i loved living with aspeth. it was a good feeling to finally have a home again, to have a place where i fel tlike it was okay to be myself. i still kept my thoughts and feelings to myself quite often, and she didnt know too much about my past, but she had bits and pieces of it.. still, it was a good point in my life. the two realities began to only fade to one, and a manageable one. i could focus on things and i was loving and happy. my mind was quiet and my intelligence, wit, and charm was showing through more then ever. i was a strong and loving man, and boyfriend. yes, it was during this time that we finally made it official. i told her that i loved her, and she became mine. i would have given everything for that girl, anything and everything, and i did eventually. i hadnt had a family in so long, i hadnt had anyone or anything to call my own, i hadnt been loved, and i wasnt about to give it up easily. not at all.

but as it was shown in my life, happiness never lasted forever. it never lasted for long at all. after a little over a year, an event happened that changed my life and the course of it forever. it changed everything. i made my first murder. killing people is an addicting feeling. its different everytime, its satisfying, its amazing. its almost a euphoric feeling to finally gain control, to have things on your side. the blood lust is so demanding and haunting like you wouldnt believe, but thats to be described at a later date. for now, lets focus on the event.

it was a day just as any other. i kissed my darling girlfriend goodbye, and i was off to work at the tattoo shop for the opening shift. my work day was steady, but busy. i was put back and forth between managing the front and setting up stations, and the day was flying by pretty quickly. before i knew it, my shift was over and i was cleaning up as a familiar face walked in. my drug dealer. i hadnt had any association with him in quite some time, almost a year infact, and i had paid all of my debts off to him in full, so i had no idea why he was in. he asked to take me outside, and i hesistantly agreed to meet him in the alley. i thought better of going, thought of just leaving, but when you grow up on the streets you know that dug dealers mean business. no matter how cunning and suave you think you are, they will find you. they will hunt you down, find you, and kill you without hesistation, and they wont think twice.

i joined him out in the alleyway, not even a slight bit of fear in my face. i had seen much scarier things then him in my lifetime, and to me this was a walk in the park. i wondered what it was he wanted, but my curiosity was soon put at ease. it seemed that a cousin of mine had sold me out, said that they bought drugs from him, for me, and now i was the one in trouble. it was more money that i could pay, way more then id even make in a year. hundreds of thousands worth of drugs were put in my name, and the look on this guys face told me i had no way out. i told him simply that ive had no association with my family and that the drugs werent for me, but he wasnt buying it despite it being the gods honest truth. it was then that he mentioned killing aspeth when he was done with me, saying how hed enjoy it, and something inside of me snapped. in no time at all i had slaughtered the man beyond recognition. i had took his life, and his blood was on my hands, but he wasnt alone. his security was with him, and when they attacked, they, too, were brought down.

by the time i got home that night, i was drenched in blood and the voices in my head were louder then ever, screaming like they hadnt before. i started packing immediately as soon as i got home and aspeth questioned me repeatedly, but once she got a full view of me in my bloody apparel and the look on my face, she quieted and began packing as well. in a matter of an hour, we had everything that we owned in my truck, and we took off into the night, but the cops were soon hot on my trails. the security cameras had caught my killings from the outside of the building, and i would never make that mistake again. i had aspeth take the wheel, and i leaned out the window, shooting officers straight to the head, shooting out tired, and dodging bullets on my own. i kept myself infront of aspeth, keeping her safe as i told her to gun the gas, and we flew onto a backroad, going off the road and flying through the desert. i took my place back in the car and we drove for hours without stopping. aspeth was made to get the gas and i kept a low profile. that was how it all began.

i had lost my mind.

i continued killing for various reasons as we stayed on the run. the killings began getting worse and worse, more brutal, more delicious. with each kill i lost more of myself, and healed myself as well. i was through with humanity. they all deserved to die as far as i was concerned. you couldnt win no matter what you did. i was a good guy for a good portion of my life, and now i was going to be the bad guy, the villian. i didnt care, not one bit. i kept aspeth safe, and i rid the world of everyone in it. if i killed everyone in the world except for us, we could finally be left at peace, so thats what i aimed to do. i began killing everyone. i didnt care who it was. i never hesistated to blow their brains out, to slit their throat, to laugh at their screams of agony. it was more addicting then you could know. i relished in the power. i relished in the heroic and villianous acts. my death counts carried from the united states, to canada, to mexico, to england, to russia, to the bahamas, to australia, to japan, and more. i killed everywhere i went, and the pigs had no way to stay on my trail. this lasted for five long years until i was caught in the united states at twenty two.

it was a pain in the ass to be caught after that long of killing. i had made just one mistake, but when youre in the business of killing, you have to remember that that is all that it takes. one mistake can put you away for good. one mistake can ruin everything youve built your life doing. i went out from our hotel room that morning with just the intent of going to get some groceries and booze, and i never came back. as soon as i entered the liquer store, i was seized. i supposed the clerk must have recognized who i was when i was making a phone call outside, and the police snuck in through the back and caught me in the front door. they seemed rather estatic about that, and i tried my best to fight them off, snapping a neck before being taken down.

the process of the interrogation was painstakingly long. they questioned on who i killed, how i killed, why i killed, my family life, and everything else. i answered in my witty fashion, or not at all, and later on i will include more about this, but for now all that you have to know is that i pissed them off. they were idiots, really. they had proof that i had killed over one hundred people, but they had no idea my real number count. to tell you the truth, even i wasnt aware of the number count. i had lost track when i got to around four hundred. it was too hard to keep everything straight. the four hundred count was a couple of years ago, so god only knew now who i killed. the pigs hated me, that was for sure. they couldnt stand how arrogant and uncooperative i was, not to mention sarcastic and sadistic. i had killed one of their parents, actually, and i cracked up the fact.

anyway, needless to say you all saw my trail on television. it was everywhere, and it was the talk of the world, so i dont need to talk about that. you know that it went on for months and i was a dick the entire time and spat at people and attempted to piss everyone off one last time before i was put away. i got put on death row when i was twenty three years old, and the prospect of it made me laugh. they really thought that i would care if i was sent straight to hell? obviously they were oblivious to the fact that no hell under out feet can be worse then the hell we walk in now. i was completely gone. i thought about my aspeth quite often, but i never mentioned her, and i knew id never see her again. i had faith that she was safe though. i had taught her well, and with her mouth, she could definitely fend for herself.

it wasnt long though before i had found another commrad on death row. he was a new killer, onle about four were at his hands, whil mine was over a hundred times that, but there was something about him that drew me to him. our cells were right next to each other. he looked like a lost pup at times, and i took mercy on him. i talked to him and eventually we became quick friends with the endless hours of talking that we did, despite the guards growling at us to be quiet. i spat at them and i was drug off to isolation multiple times, but i didnt mind. logan ambrose and i were going to escape this hell, and we were going to unleash our rath on the world. we started the plan within months of knowing each other, and it took us years to excute, but it was time that we gained each others trust in. well, i trusted him as much as i could trust another man, which wasnt much at all, but we were going to execute the action perfectly. but, if he turned on me, i wouldnt hesistate to shoot him in the head. so i thought, but i never could. he is and will always be one man i cant kill despite my constant threats and physical fights. anyway, his sister felicia was going to get us out of there, and i had to admit, she sounded and looked appealing.

the riot that happened that day was deliciously amazing. it wasnt the first time i had killed a man on death row, but drilling into a mans brain made me positively giddy. still, it got the job done and the men began going crazy. in the mess, i slipped out and made my way to the security area, snapping the mans neck and manning the computers to turn off all of the alarms and the security cameras momentarily. we only had a short amount of time to make our escape, so i made my way back to logan and winked at him, grabbing a shank as we dashed down the hall and began taking people out left and right that stood in our way. i had to admit, for a relatively new killer, he was certianly talented. wanting freedom always brought the best out in a man, that was for sure. there had to be about thirty to fourty men that dropped that night on our way out, and good riddins to them.

we dove into the back of felicias unmarked truck and pulled the canvas over our heads, preparing ourselves for the long trips ahead. i figured that no one had noticed we were gone yet. we had gotten lucky that there were no sirens to be heard for quite some time. we were resting easy for a moment, yet still ready to strike, even as i smirked at my partner in crime, squeezing his hand slightly as we made our way to freedom. as we got closer to the border of tennessee though, the sirens started up. felicia began taking shots first in the sexiest fashion that i had ever seen. man if i could have fucked her right there, i would have, that was certian. anyway, we grabbed our own shotguns and began shooting everything that was in site, killing both the pigs and bystanders. we didnt care though. it looked horrific and wonderful all at once. i laughed darkly at the sight, and still do when i remember it. the fuckers should have known who they were dealing with. i relaxed in the bed of the truck even as i heard more sirens and we swerved off the road, barrling through the forrest. i smirked as she glanced at me in the rearview mirror and i winked at her, loving the way her eyes seemed as dark as ours. man was she ever the sexiest thing. there was nothing more delicious then a dangerous woman, and i had to admit she turned me on completely that night.

she disposed of the truck after we hopped out and got into a new car, repeating the same thing quite a few times as we mvoed about tennessee, dodging the police and keeping a low profile. after quite a long time, we reached our little cabin in the outskirts of town, and we relished in the new freedom with felicia who decided to stay a while with us until we got settled back into society. she and i developed a secret relationship in those months. i had kissed her the very first night we arrived at our cabin, keep our intimacy to ourselves and out of logans knowledge. she was supreme, dangerous, sexy. in six years i had no contact physically with any woman, so those few months were intense and wonderful before logan and i moved to our new location, and felicia left to take care of her own business. i kissed her one last time before she left, and at that point i had promised her that one day id repay her for the freedom, and i kissed her as if i loved her before she took off. maybe i did love her, who knows. i shared a ton with her about my past and my present, more then even aspeth knew. she seemed to get me, to put me in my place, to let me be the man. it was a great fluxuating relationship, it had amazing dynamics, and i miss her even still as i write this. i hope one day that she will come back and we will again be together temporarily, as i know aspeth has definitely moved on and made a life for herself without me. i couldnt blame her, i was never meant to escape, but you should know better then to ever doubt me.

weve changed our names now, in a sense. logan goes by gage, and i by samuel. humanity is too fucking stupid to even realise its us, even just by going by our middle names. our lives have been interesting, full of blood lust and partnership. i love him more then i have ever loved anyone, more then my parents, more then aspeth, more then felicia, more then myself. he is the only one i can honestly not live without. what little sanity i still have rests within him and souly him. i dont think i can function without him anymore, and i never want the opportunity to find out. no longer will i just be known as kieran samuel kennedy, the most feared serial killer in the history of the world, but kieran kennedy, one half of the most dangerous partnership that humanity has ever seen. our names will go down in history forever, and no one will ever forget just who were were, are, and will be.

but i suppose it is now time to leave this chapter and close it. i have been periodically distracted by the chuckles of logan and the dangerous glint in his eye, that smirk of his as he slowly drains dry our latest victim who continues to beg for mercy. his screams of agony are enough to give me goosebumps, and im longing to join him in the misery business. so for now, i leave you with this. i have given you a glimpse into my past more then almost anyone has heard, only logan knows absolutely everything and you probably never will. this shall satisfy enough for the time being. for now, i bid you farewell, and im off to join my companion in the merriment. hes been calling for me to come to him for the past half hour, and i dont like to make him wait.

goodnight, and see you in your nightmares.

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steph. 19. jackson and london.[/font][/i][/center]