I wake up with a headache and I'm like ten years old. I sleep in a small wooden shed outside of my parent's country home, which is surrounded by miles and miles of green. On one side there are trees, and on the other side there is nothing. I am miles away from other people, so there is a lady in a wagon that comes to pick me up for school. But first I need to eat breakfast in my parents' house.
I'm meant to knock on the door of their house, but I just walk in. I get scolded. I sit at my usual seat at the table and look up at mom and dad. He likes to wear a white panama hat, and she wears the same dress every day. At least I think it's the same one.
Dad needs to shave. It started out as laziness, but now he grows a beard as some sort of sick sense of defiance. He goes on about how he hates pretty faced "faggots" and mom nods. Mom hates the beard too. I can tell when I look at her. She was probably pretty at some point, but now her eyes have sunken into complacency. She follows dad's dismal thinking because where she is from, they don't let women think. Good stuff.
It's the fourth of July. I ask dad what we are doing to celebrate. He says I'm not meant to know.
After school I come home and we eat dinner. Dad says he has a surprise.
He takes us outside and says, "These are fireworks."
I find out that fireworks are the most amazing thing. They explode into beatiful colors. They can be entertaining, but dangerous if not handled properly. I fell in love at first sight.
The next day I bring a firework to school and I tell a classmate to hold on to it and it goes off in his hand. At first I didn't respect their destructive power, but after this I do. I get scolded as usual, but it doesn't bother me much. I had found something to give me a bit of meaning.
So when I eventually killed my father, I used fireworks. I thought it would be funny, but it really wasn't. Still glad I did it though. Killing dad wasn't like a huge act of revenge or anything. It was just on a list of things I had planned to do, and I was inspired at the moment. You might think that I hated the man, but it was more like I had no feeling for or against him at all.
I've heard somebody call me a sociopath. No, that's not true. People like you and I have devils in us. It's that devil that causes us to do things like that. It makes us stronger, faster, and impossible to kill. You know? It's that obsession. I know you feel it.
