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That was difficult for some people to comprehend.
It took a particular type of personality to truly embrace a give-zero-shits-and-hold-nothing-back kind of attitude. For me, it was fueled by Stefanie’s loss, but if I was honest, that wasn’t the root cause. I’d been born different. I wasn’t normal, and I knew it from a young age.
When I saw the shadows, heard the whispers, and then learned of the roars, I knew my purpose was tainted. What kind of psychotic kid spoke to the darkness and loved it? Who chose to friend the nightmares from the closet and under the bed? Only a kid born from the shadows. That was exactly who I had become.
It only took a tragedy to unfurl the beast inside completely.
The shadows were my home now, a refuge to plan my ultimate revenge, and that was exactly what I had done over the last four months. I’d plotted and researched and planned. Aching from the pain and torment of losing the girl I loved, I let that fester into something wild and deadly. Now that my contact and I had met several times and exchanged critical Intel, I was ready to strike.
Oh, they would never see me coming. They had no idea.
From shadow, I was born, and from shadow, I would rise. But oh, how glorious, how beautiful, how saturated in blood would that road to hell be paved upon.
Maniacal laughter bubbled up and out of my chest.
Perhaps I truly lost my mind.
I didn’t care.
The first visit from the ghost of Christmas was coming tonight, and how perfectly twisted and merciless it would become.
