Anger management, i never took that class.I never saw the apeal of trying to keep your raw inner rage on a leash like a pet that refuses to behave.
I always thought that it was a waste of time. The teachers quite litterally being paid to tell you that your feelings arent something you should act on. "Waste of my time." I would confidently say whenever anyone asked why i never attended the class, esspecially in my younger years.
Well if only I thought about my anger as a dangerous thing back then maybe i wouldnt of turned out this way. A servant to the game, killing not for fun but to survive.
My odds of surviving quite litterally being controlled by the gods that put me here. My life of crime was a very mysterious one. One that would only really show if you were trying to look for a pattern.
I killed who i had to, when i had to. My most infamous method? Gunfire. Guns were a thing i used to hold up as holy, most noticably when my uncle was still alive. I then had to kill him for his arsenal.
I know, cruel. But i did what i had to do. If i used the same gun many times, i would find myself in a whole new world of trouble. I took him out quick and fast. No witnesses.
(April 2013)
I had freshly dropped out of school to completely pursue my career in crime. The thought of dropping out for such a disturbing reason was still a new feeling. Like a sick man getting high of of his medicine.
It felt lawless, like the world had to bend to my rules and form a new society from who and what i decieded to leave over.
Time after time after time, I would leave school find my target and deal with things from there.
No drug deals, i promissed myself that selling drugs was not something i would ever entertain. I even started killing famous druggies in my area, just to slow down demand for those things. But a cigarette never hurt me, so after i dropped my targets i would usually smoke one or two.
My killings becoming headlines on pouplar news stations, legends to the younger generations of screwed up misfits like me in my younger years. The kinds of stories that some look deeper in while others hear about them in passing. I wasnt trying to be famous, I did all of this for the thrill. For the adrenaline.
This killing was my most memorable, the way it went down from start to finsh. A carefully curated expansive altercation built on my countless hours of study on his manerisms.
Research on your own uncle? Thats a bit far dont you think? I said to myself whenever the thought came to mind. Revisiting the cold dark irresistable tango my mind danced with the thought of killing someone. My mind racing through countless outcomes, one by one I cut all unfavourable outcomes using the one thing that everyone of my victims couldnt outrun. Themselves.
Everyday i would start up some small talk. Keep the friendly dinamic, a facade built with unparralel indifference. A behavior, what one would usually call a pattern formed. Small talk that always ended with a hug, high five, some form of physical contact that ensured that the target couldnt suspect me.
Sometimes I would even catch myself when my small talk became a little too invasive.
I would ask when he was going to bed then completely change the gormat of my questions in case he thought about the conversation later.
Think i was a phsycopath? You havent heard nothing yet. My youth was full of experiments, my uncle being one of them. He wasnt any good samaritan. He transported drug money for one of the big cartels in our town. The type of people who if they ask you for something, you do it no questions asked.
The type of cartel where shuting up gets you fed.
The cartel never gave warning shots. They gave warnings and shot later, so i pondered on why they thought so highly of themselves.
Layers of hatred grew in me when I saw the whole cartel rob my only friends family. Thats when I saw it, the lust for blood that only came from visuals, not records.
My uncle was part of their operations, a pwan in their game of chess. A tool to be used when wanted and only regarded as an associate, but I saw through their game quickly, I mean what else did i have to do in my free time?
The cartel was a central figure in the reason why crimes where so easy to be forgotten. When the people heard crime, they heard cartel. I really should have thanked them, or even let them live, nah no one kills my only friend and gets away with it. Not even my only uncle.
What they needed was a show of their sloppyness, a relic that would demonstrate on exactly how they could leave a child to watch. If i was them i wouldnt have left me to survive after watching what they did. Now that, that would be their biggest mistake.
Their very very last one if i could ever have a say in that.
To Be Continued