When I was a big child, or in my early teens, I had a period where I used to write some rather ‘unusual’ short stories; ‘obscene’ would probably be a better word for it.
It was obvious already from the first time I presented such a piece of written art for my parents and other people in my local surroundings, that none of them took any delight in my musings. But I nevertheless used to force my unhappy audiences to listen to me read aloud these stories, I was very proud of my creativity.
My Very Own Human Victim!…
The following is one of the less extreme that I wrote, I have ‘cleaned it up’ a bit and re-written some of it so as to make it more grammatical presentable and overall readable.
I always knew something was different about my son. So when he turned 7 – the year he was about to enter second grade – I took him to a child psychologist, who referred me to another child psychologist, who was a specialist in Juvenile Psychopathy Assessment using the PCL-YV. And indeed, it turned out my son is a full blown Psychopath.
Whew!… What a relief!
To think I’d been so worried and then it turns out my son’s really just an exceptional genius – of sorts. That’s what I was told: “Just think of your son as a very special human being who has evolved beyond his contemporaries!”, they said. And that’s exactly what I’ve done ever since.
But I’m beginning to worry… I Mean, he’s SO beyond his age!
Last year, when he’d turned 12, right after the birthday party we held for him, he said: “Mama, do I get a Victim for X-mass? I want my own Victim, mama!”
(The neighbor, shocked): What did you answer him?
Why I gave him a flat out No! “You are too young to have your own Victim!”, I said. He immediately turned that sullen face at me – you know how they are at that age – but I was firm. “You’ll have to speak to your daddy, with me it is still no! Maybe when you turn 14, that’s when you’ll become a real man”.
“NO!, there’s the end of it!”
He stormed out, slamming the door behind him and didn’t come home until well after 3 AM, blood all over him and his new ax, that he had got for his birthday, in hand.
“Me and my husband had been waiting up for him”. (she looks at the neighbor) “No, we didn’t call the police. We’ve learned that only brings us more trouble and grief, having to go to court, pay endless fees and bills and bailing him out of where ever they’ve taken him. So no, we’re set on dealing with this ourselves. We can manage, we’re a real close family, after all, and always knew how to deal with our own problems.”
So my husband calls our son into the living room as he’s about to run upstairs. “Son!? Come in here, we need to talk this Victim obsession of yours over!”
Our son comes in, silently, ax still in his hand, but he knows he can trust us so he doesn’t try to hide it, nor the blood he’s got all over him – except for a quick glance at me… I am his mother after all, and he knows how I hate washing all the blood off his clothes, since it sticks SO HARD on clothes… especially white clothes, you know!? …So he walks towards us, my husband motions for him to sit, which he does.
I wouldn’t know what to do without my husband. He knows exactly what to say and how to talk to our son. That is, much of the time, he does. … Much of the time nothing either of us can say matters either way. But once in a while my husband knows how to talk to him, and thank ye gods this was one of those occasions.
He send me quickly one of those looks that says ‘we need to talk ‘men’s stuff’ me and our son!’, and I understood and quietly left the room.
… As I closed the door after me I heard my husband say:
“Son, you’re too young to have your own Victim just yet!”. A short pause, and then he continued: “I know, I know, don’t get upset just yet… maybe already next year we’ll see if we can arrange something… But how would you be if we could take you to the local Zoo this X-mass..?”.
Another short pause, then he quickly continued:
“No no, wait! Now, I didn’t mean we would take you just to watch the animals. No, I’ll arrange with the manager to let you in after night fall, when it’s closed to the public and there’ll be only you and the animals, and me and the Zoo keepers… And we’ll see to it that you can roam free and do WHATEVER you like in there!
“We can bring all our weaponry and all your home made torture instruments… We can take it with us in the back of the car! … And then it’ll be all up to you to have a good time and lots of fun, for… say, …3 hours?… Now how does that sound, wouldn’t that be nice?”. He waited a little and I could tell by the slight lowering of his voice when he continued, that our son must’ve been softening to the idea: “Could you live with that, and then wait with a human victim for one more year?”
I walked away fast as I heard that. Too anxious our son would make a scene and insist that he get a victim too, but a little later my husband came out, calmly smiling.
“It’s alright, dear”, he said. “He’s gone to get a shower and then off to bed. All he’ll be thinking about now and in the time to come is that trip to the Zoo this X-mass. Human victims will not enter his mind again until next year, so all is fine for now. We can relax!”…
In the meantime, while the parents spoke and his dad reassured his mother downstairs, the boy quickly showered, put on his pajama, and then slipped upstairs to the attic where he unlocked a large wooden crate that he had hidden in the farthest corner, and peered into the dark within. A small white face with black and yellow bruises squinted up at him. “Shh!!”, he said to the tied up boy:..
“I’ll have to keep you hidden for a while yet, but not for long now. One more year and I’ll be able to take you out and let you walk around, like real prisoner!”.. He throws some half gnawed meat and dog food into the crate. “I stole that from the neighbor’s dog. They feed him too much anyways!” He gives a soft laugh, holding his hand over his mouth so as to not let the sound give away where he is. “Maybe then you can have some real food too!… But only if you stay quiet!”… “And keep obeying me until then!!”, as he locks the lid back on tight and turns the key in each of the padlocks.
As he quickly slipped back down to his room and into bed, he smiled at the thought of all the fun he’d have… In just a year from now, when he would no longer have to hide his Very Own Human Victim…