Death on the Installment Plan

patrick,

the issue is pain, understand this.

initially, there wasn't any grand plan. I killed someone almost by accident really. and I felt all those things you're supposed to feel---guilt, revoltion, fear, shame, self-hatred. I took a bath to clean myself from her blood. sitting in the tub, I vomited, but I didn't move. I sat there, the water stank with her blood and my shame. the stink of my immortal sin.

then I drained the tub, and showered, and... went on. what the human do after all once they've done something immoral, or inconceivable, they go on. there is no other choice, if you slipped past the grasp of the law.

so I went about my life. and then those feelings of shame and guilt went away. I thought they linger forever. but they didn't.

and I remember thinking, it can't be this simple. but it was. and pretty soon, more out of curiosity than anything, I killed someone else, and it felt, well, nice, calming. the way of cold glass of beer must feel to an alcoholic coming off an dry spell. the way of first night of sexual intercourse must feel to lovers who kept apart.

taking other's life is a lot like sex actually. sometimes it's a transcendent, orgasmic act. but other times, it's just so-so, okay, no big deal, but what are you going to do? sort of sensation. but it never less than interesting, it's something you remember.

I'm not sure why I'm writing you, patrick. who I am as I write this, isn't who I am during my day job, not who I am when I kill. I wear a lot of faces, and some you never see and some you never want to. I've seen a few of your faces---a pretty one, a violent one, a reflective one, some others---and I wonder, which you'll wear when we meet with carrion between us. I do wonder.

all guiltless, I heard, will need reproach, maybe self. and so be it. I'm not sure the worthy victims are worth all the trouble actually.

I dreamed once that I was stranded on a planet of white sand, and the sky was white, that's all it was---me, spilling drifts of white sand as wide as ocean and the burning white sky. I was alone, and small. after days of wandering, I could smell my own rot. I know I'll die on this drift of white and under the hot sky. I prayed for shade, eventually it came. and it had a voice, and a name. "Come," darkness said. "Come with me." but I was weak, I was rotting. I couldn't rise my knees. "Darkness," I said. "Take my hand, take me away fromt his place." and Darkness did.

so, you see what I am teaching you, patrick?

Best,
The Father