The room is painted white. The carpet is greyish-black. The rotating chairs are navy. I look at the counselor. I observe her face; her applied foundation, mascara, eyeliner and lipgloss. My eyes move to her hair. Then, to her clothes. She is well dressed, I tell myself. But why? Why does a counselor have to be well dressed? Is it a rule? Why can't counselors express themselves more through clothing? Or is it a formal mandatory type of rule? Her mouth opens and my mind shifts on focusing on her.
"So, you're here because you have homicidal urges?" she asks with a sad look on her face
"Yes, I told you that", I state, full of monotony.
I glance at the clock and back at her
Her face appears eager and is tilted towards me so I take the chance and speak,
"I want to kill people. I don't know why. I think it ought to be fun"
Silence breaks in. She licks her lips and says, "Hmm, do you have difficulties at home?"
At that time, I didn't, so I replied with a no.
"Do you have any people on mind when you feel this?" she asks.
So she thinks I'm full of wrath and vengeance, eh?
But I'm not. I wish I could lie and feign my homicidal intentions.
Because it isn't about who I kill. It isn't about power. It isn't about rage. It really isn't. I just want to feel the thrill of having killed someone. Taking someone's life while being alive seems so... exciting. It seems like one of those things you must experience to truly appreciate life and see how precious it is. It's a reason to live, my mind whispered to me. I didn't care who it was, when it would happen - I just wanted to murder someone. Kill. Destroy.
Such harsh words to describe such a simple action. At least, to me, it seems beyond simple. Killing someone. Watching the life and light from their eyes fade into darkness. Is it sick of me to want to be able to do this? Or am I merely expressing the true desire of all humans? If I were to kill, would I take a trophy like most typical serial killers or would I leave the body there, admiring my twisted version of artwork? I do not know.
I explain this to her. She seems to be bored of me.
"At least you haven't done anything" she says
I feel the need to add 'yet' to the end of her sentence but I have already frightened her. I can see from her expressions that she genuinely wants to help yet lacks such knowledge. Instead, I told her that was that and that I haven't done anything. That I don't plan on doing anything.
I leave the counseling room as she asked me to do so and I shrug. I shrug at her reaction. I shrug at her implications of emotional attachment to my potential victims. I shrug at how I lied about having no plans.
I have plans.
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