You’ll change your mind. Eventually the desire to hunt will overwhelm you. You don’t know how to kill on your own, not without getting caught. So you’ll come. I’m a surprisingly patient man. I can wait.
You’re confused, you know. The connections you’re making are illogical, even contradictory. Off of our meds, are we? No biggie. I always prefer a coherent lunatic to a rational junkie. It’s a pet peeve of mine that the psychological field has been reduced to pushing pills. I read somewhere that about 65% of this country’s population is currently taking a mind-altering pharmaceutical. Even the highest estimates for mental illness conclude that it effects about 1/3 of the population. Fold into this phenomenon the typical reluctance of mentally ill persons to seek help or take their medication, and we have a nation where most of the mentally healthy people are medicated and the mentally ill are not. Frankly, this whole country is headed in a very disturbing direction, psychologically. But you don’t need me to tell you that. I’m sure you’ve seen television talk shows.
Not to disappoint you, but not all of your articles are about me, sweetheart. Like I’ve already said, sometimes there’s no avoiding repetition. But I remember the ammonia doll, that was definitely mine.
Four hours that girl kept her head out of the bucket. Four fucking hours. Now that’s incredible. I didn’t intend it to last so long- I ended up late for my niece’s christening because of it. But it was worth it. I hung her up there, oh man was that sweet. She kept begging me to let her go. Most people beg, but this one was really going for it. She didn’t even scream when I took out the ball-gag. She said: “I’ll do whatever you want me to.” Of course she would, that’s what everyone says. (I’ve never taken any of them up on it, but I’m fairly certain that they really mean it.) She didn’t kick her feet while I was tying them, she didn’t complain when I cut off her dress. She kept repeating that she would do anything, anything. But then, out of nowhere, she starts listing off everything she’s willing to do. Now, this is something completely new. What am I supposed to do? I take a seat where I can see her and listen.
There are times when I’ve really wanted someone to be there, just because it would be impossible to believe some of the things I’ve seen without seeing them first hand. This girl offered to do things for me that I’d never even considered as possible. Maybe she thought that if she kept talking I’d get turned on and cut her down. She started off with the little stuff: Oral, anal, calling me daddy, screaming for me. Mind you, this is nothing I can’t get at home, but I’m still intrigued. Then it gets weirder. She says she’ll put things in herself, starts talking about knives and tire irons (I don’t know where she got this- I don’t carry a tire iron.) She says she can do the splits, she was in gymnastics for five years, she can bend all the way backwards, stand on her hands, touch the back of her head with her toes. All the while she’s clenching her stomach to keep her head out of the ammonia. Her voice is getting weaker, either from the strain or from the fumes, but she keeps going. “I’ll eat your asshole,” she says, “I’ll let you piss in my eyes.” I’m revolted, but now I’m really curious. Where is she getting this shit? She’s only nineteen, maybe less if she lied when I picked her up. I want to ask her why she’s saying all of this, but I can’t. We’re well past the point of chit-chat, if I talk to her now she’ll think she’s found a weakness. So I let her go, on and on, how she’s willing to lick up her own blood, how she’ll struggle if I want her to, how her hair is long enough to tie to something. She kept talking like that until her back finally gave in, then she just kind of hung there for a second with her hair in the bucket, holding her head at an angle with just the muscles in her neck. This is what most people do right away because they’re too weak to keep their abs tensed for long, so I believe that she really was a gymnast. Anyway, the human neck is much weaker than you would suspect. About ten minutes later she was silent. I still have no idea where she came up with all that filth. Your article doesn’t give any kind of clue. The best I can guess is that she was either really into snuff films or someone did her pretty bad before I came along.
Think about it, Ingrid. This is the kind of thing you’re missing out on, the raw, fleshy stubble of the human core psyche. What else do you have going on in your life? Special happy feelings of goodness and love? I don’t fucking think so.
-Mercy
end of ninth letter
next letter
previous letter
the mercy killings
return to the last car