I only kill people I like.

I don't like people anymore. They took the innocence away from someone so pure.. that it should be considered a crime. Of course this person well..this girl.. had no clue that she was still pure to someone else. Her compared to me on the pureness and innocence scale, she will always win. No matter what anyone does or what she does for the matter, she will always be pure. I met her about a year ago in the dreaded, "house of horror." I knew this location extremely well considering my little sister always hung out there with her, "friends." Truth be told, she had no friends like me. Owners of the house came and well, stayed in a manner of speaking. What I actually mean is that they were either murdered or they just committed suicide. God, what is wrong with that real estate agent? Why must she always bring people that are just happy to the horrid house? As soon as they move in, their problems start and they become unhappy and unpleasantness to even be around. I'm never really sad that they went because they were either unpleasant to my sister and her breaking into the house, habit. She also always tells every, "You're going to die in there." and it's funny now because she's right. They never will listen to her warning or anyone else for that matter. Sometimes I wish that they wouldn't die, that they would get to grow old with each other and then die peacefully in their sleep.

It has been over a month that the house has been free of people. My sister spent almost all of her time there while I attended hell. Oh sorry, I forgot to put it in "normal" people terms. I meant high school. To me, it's just hell mostly because people are horrible beasts. I know that they don't mean to be, it's just the way they are. If they don't act like beasts, they're vulnerable. I see right through all of their terrible lies, though. I know their secrets. They're all afraid of me or intimidated. I don't understand why though I mean, I'm being myself. I have these "paint" on tattoos that I always apply right before I walk to hell. I look like a skeleton when I walk through the halls and I always say what's on my mind. They all look at me weird when I do, though. It's like they can't fathom something (or someone) that could possibly think of the facts. It's actually really hilarious to see them all back away from me slowly. I know that I always get what I want from them, mostly. Maybe it's because I help them get things they want and I'm so glad that they're afraid of me.

My damn alarm clock woke me up around seven today. While groaning, I grabbed the alarm off of my night stand and flung it at the wall causing it to break (again.) The only reason I do that is because I can never figure out how to turn the damned object off and, it annoys me. I got up and walked to my closet and started looking for my jeans and the same hoodie I wear every day. Looking for the hoodie for a good five minuets, now pissed might I add, I grabbed a black long sleeve shirt that was remotely tight. I pulled my grey jeans on and unlocked my door to go yell at my mother yet again. When I got the the kitchen where she was acting all innocent which, she is far from. She's a cocksucker. My dad left me with a fucking cocksucker. It's all her fucking fault. "Good morning dear." She simply said to me. "Where the hell is my hoodie?" I asked slightly raising my voice. "You'll get it back after school. I had to wash it, it smells like you were murdering someone." By then, my temper was rising. "Go get ready before you blow another gasket." My mother said. I slammed my hand down on the table and said."You better give me my fucking hoodie back after school." She looked into my eyes, clearly terrified and shook her head.

I then proceeded to walk back to my room and I locked the door. I walked into my bathroom to apply the skeleton mask I wear ever day. Before I started to paint, I looked at my reflection. My dirty blond hair was messy so, I slicked it back with gel (as always.) I stared into my coal black eyes and thought, "I must be the son of the devil" and I laughed out loud at the thought. I said aloud," No, not possible. I'm worse." While smiling, I painted the skeleton on. Fifteen minutes later, I was finished and I smiled at my work (I was getting better every hour.) I walked back to my closet and pulled out my leather jacket. Normally, I only wore it on days where there was the business to discuss but since the bitch has my hoodie, it'd have to do. Picking my bag off of the floor, along with my phone, I grabbed my room key off of my end table. As soon as I was outside the safety of my room, I locked it and started my journey to hell once again.