I've been killing for about 12 years now, no one has yet caught me in the time I've done this. Which is lucky for me. The blood of at least 50 lives has seeped into the skin of my palm, possibly more, and I can't stop.

I first started killing people during my work in the army, but once I left the military, I felt some kind of emptiness inside me that began to grow each night, I missed the rush of hearing people scream as I stole the life force from within them. But I didn't know it. After over a month of not knowing what was wrong with me, and not being able to sleep, I went out for a walk. I brought a knife with me for safety, I was having either the worst sleep full of nightmares night after night, or I just wouldn't sleep at all. With my hoodie up and my knife in my concealed hand, barely anyone was around. Except for the only people ever around, the fuckers that think they're cool and punk for being assholes and annoyances. They screamed and tried their best to get me to react to them, I was done with them, I should have brought music, I thought. I should kill them. I thought, while it was obviously a crazy thing to think about, I thought I was just honing back into my mental state of the war, that was all it could be. I've done it so many times, hell, with just this knife alone I could probably kill all of them and none of them would even get a foot away from me before dying. The thoughts closed in further and further. All I need to do to seal the deal is to first mute them, they can't scream if they can't talk if they can't breathe, right? It was right, it was all right, exactly how I would deal out death to each of them spiralled through my mind, I would first slit their throats, maybe their palms too, to make it look more like a personal sacrifice rather than a murder, make it look Satanic rather than Sadistic, yes. It was a perfect plan, so I let into their belligerent howling.

I'll spare you the gruesome details, they all died that night, and despite them being a group of minors that didn't seem to have access to a knife anywhere around them, the neighbours hated them so much they all decided to agree that some homeless man must have stolen it after they died. I mean, I did a sloppy job, but give me some credit, the neighbours' fake story was able to add the final convincing needed left to prove it was "sacrifice", plus, I hadn't slept well in over a month at least, the fact that a homeless man was all that was needed to leave the case proves I still had it in me, and the fact that I haven't been caught yet in 12 years proves I still have it in me to this day, think about that.

But besides that, I need actual help with this. I don't actually know how many lives I have taken, I say "at least 70" because that was the last number I remember counting, about 7 years ago. Because if I go even a week without killing someone I begin spiralling again. Everything around me consumes me in a state of madness. But I can't just simply go to rehab for this shit, nor a therapist, what am I going to say? "Yeah, I just need some help, for about 12 years I've had the need to kill people weekly just to keep sane, I've killed like hundreds of people, what should I do doc?" They're just gonna throw me in jail, they won't help with the problem, and I'll spiral into killing everyone else doing time, so what should I do?