Murderer (private)

I've been stalling. I've been GLAD for shit going crazy, for needing to be there for Janie, to sit at the jail and keep an eye on that cracked out little bitch in the cell. I haven't wanted to come home, because the moment I walk in I know the box is here. It's sitting right where I put it last night, before I went to see Janie. Haven't taken the belt out of it yet, I don't think I want to either. Just looking at does... plenty.

I wonder what a forensic team would find on it. Did they clean it before they sent it back to me? Is Eris' spittle still on part? Maybe a hair caught in the buckle? Would it still match right up with the mark around her neck? That's what you sick fucks want me to wonder when you read this, right? Blur the line between sex and violence? Or guilt and obsession?

Maybe you'll get what you want.After all, you made me what I am. Yeah, the core was there, but you unleashed it. You built it up, gave it justification, fed it your own people out there in the woods. You knew I'd kill those men, just like you knew I'd kill Stockard, given the chance. You're the murderers here. I'm not innocent? And I don't ever think I'll find redemption. But I'll get satisfaction.

Forward this shit to your co-workers, to your bosses, their bosses. Tell your grunts. No one here is going to die because of me. You and yours get that pleasure all to yourselves. I'm going to get out, I'm going to find you all. I'm going to burn you off the map. Your friends, your families, anything to do with you? Savor it now. Then run.