By Zachary Paul Chopchinski
I never liked clothes. I try my best not to wear them. I love my own skin too much to ever allow something to cover it. My scars should be seen. They tell my story in a way only my violence can come near. On nights like this, I like to stand with the light from the moon running down my chest and stomach. As I run my fingers over my abdominals, I smile at my own power. Little sister was right in the beginning, they will never stop me.
Since we were young, I always got looks from lesser creatures. I stood seven feet tall, covered with muscle and scars. I really do love them so. The last one before I was sent here called me a “Gollum” as I squished what was left of his skull into the floor. My silence should not be taken for weakness. He felt it appropriate to challenge me in the shadows of an alley with his mates nearby. I bathed in the blood of them all before that night was done. I loved it.
Little sister said that they were only making fun of me because they were scared. She came up with the idea to show them how scared they really should be. I do love her ideas. Shortly after I came here, her next idea was to show a particularly nosey orderly why he should not peak through windows. I remember him crying as I broke his arms and legs. It was interesting how something as strong as bone broke so easily. Like stepping on branches. I was able to remove his lower jaw before the rush of stings and shocks removed me from by purchase over him. The last thing I remember was how his tongue looked flopping out of its hole and onto his neck.
Mr. Drake and his lackeys? They couldn’t comprehend true horror was. Had I only the chance, I would relish the opportunity to educate them. Little sister says that ignorance can never be tolerated. Ignorance is fear. Fear is weakness. The weak are not worthy. I break the weak, and show them the madness that they are not worthy of. Then I send them to darkness and rid myself of their pestilence.
I have been looking forward to this night for some time now. Little sister loves this time of year more than any other. She says the ghosts from the past come back to see what we have done for them after they had gone. I look forward to sharing my strength with them.
I can now smell the smell. It is one of my favorites, and I can sense it from some distance. The metallic scent fills my nostrils, and I feel blood rush to all of my extremities. My abdominals and pectorals swell. My arms enlarge. Blood is in the air, and there is a lot of it. I smile as I know what this means. Little sister will be here soon, and we will play.
Source: Hallow’s Eve Ayslum: PART FIVE