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UNSATISFIED DARKNESS

Chapter 1 - 4

By Chris GagePublished 3 years ago 31 min read
1

By: Chris Alan Balcomb ll

I write in this black leather wrapped book my life in blood; my story of how I became my worst nightmare and soon to be yours. A story of a young dreamer with such imagination it tormented those around him.

The name I carry to this day is not merely Wes Dunlee. In my family, I assume the name trader, loner, worst of all backstabber, mostly because I decided to go out on my own and follow my dreams by going to college and deciding to study music. My family thought that I would become one of those starving music producers, “you know the stereotype “that’ll have a dead-end job and that’ll be living day after day wondering how he will be paying this months rent. No, instead I’ll do something completely different, I will become something even more disappointing, in any standards besides a successful music producer. I become a monster; the thoughts I once had as a child come out, thought of killing people. I have become tormented by my own mind, or even kill myself, especially after doing the same to others for the past 30 years. I feel this is the end of my life. For god sake, I am a 50-year-old man that will never be able to live a full life content with one family, because I grow tired of them after I grow uninterested in what they can offer me. Normal men would settle for a divorce, but I, sadly, have never been able to be satisfied with a compromise to myself or any of my marriages as easy as a separation would offer. This isn’t the way I want to live my life and I promised myself I wouldn’t become like my father. Now it’s too late because I have become worse. I suppose when it comes down to it, I am my only judge, and will decide my own fate. Here’s my story....

Chapter 1: The Darkness Begins To End

It all started when I was a young boy at the age of 4 in Los Angeles California, year 1972. At least from what I can remember, These were the times when my father would come home drunk out of his mind with alcohol on his breath, finding reasons to hit me. Around this time I was in a signing school in California for the deaf. You may wondering why someone would beat a deaf child; well, why would someone beat a child in the first place? It’s all-relative in a contradicting way, similar to my life. However, I wasn’t born deaf. I became deaf from all of the “quality time” my father would spend with me after he returned home from his nightly visits to the local bars. The time my father spent with me wasn’t pleasant. When he discovered I had become deaf, it seemed as if brass knuckles had grown onto his fists naturally, making every time we spent together that much more special. During our time spent together, some of the wisdom and advice he attempted to convey to me would include, “You will never make it in life if you can’t withstand my beatings, you little wimp.” Just imagine what was going through my 4 year old mind when I was surrounded by hatred, loneliness, and misery. Let’s just say, my childhood didn’t hand me the innocence and naivety that a normal childhood presented to others. I grew up fast.

Through my life as a young boy I told myself I would be everything I ever wanted to be in life. After I finished signing schooling in California. We moved to Yuma, Arizona that’s where I started elementary school. I will always remember my father meeting me after school and walking me to the apartment that we were living in at the time. All I cared about was that I was able to see my father before he went to the bar and got so intoxicated that he wouldn’t even remember stumbling home to beat me again until he got tired and passed out. Until one day when child services showed up out of no where and “rescued me” as they would say, but hearing that made me cry so hard “as if there where taking me away from the only life I had.” They told me the reason they took me away was because my father, my own father, was too busy to take care of me properly. Busy, of course they had to tell me that, thinking I couldn’t understand the truth. I understood the truth from the first time he gave me a beating for not looking both ways before crossing the road. I didn’t know any other way of living until I was put in a foster home at the age of 5.

Being in that foster home was like being in a prison with other boys and girls who had been abused or raped by their fathers. The only thing the foster parents did was tell us what we were doing wrong and punish us for it. When we actually did something right they would give us gold stars on this chart that determined whether or not we got to watch our favorite television shows when they came on. My name wasn’t even on the chart because they told me that I was deaf and I wasn’t able to watch my favorites television show, so I rebelled against there chart, I became the worst child there, goes to show how much I learned from my father. I wasn’t aloud to be around other children because they where afraid I would hit the other kids, I felt like I was in recovery for an addiction of some sort that I didn’t know I even had. I started feeling angry towards the other kids who mad fun of me because I wasn’t beating them up anymore I was trapped in my own room.

I lived in that foster home for nearly 2 years and I grew to really hate the place but it didn’t last long because the foster parents sent me to another home where I was treated like a king for a couple of months until the they started receiving more kids like me: troubled and angry subjects who wanted to bully everyone around. What we all didn’t realize was that the foster parents were studying our behavior. Every once in a while they would sit us down one on one to talk to us about our actions and told us to start writing in a journal, it was suppose to help us open up and let that anger out that we had deep inside. This free association didn’t help though, because I need to discover why I was so angry all the time, the truth had been in my blood since the day I was born. In result, contradictory to what they were trying to accomplish, I kept my anger bottled inside even more, even in the journal I would never write the reason I’m angry.

After living a year there and getting to really like the home, my mother managed to find me and take me out before my 8th birthday. She told me everything was going to be all right. I didn’t understand, however what she meant by “everything will be alright.” To me those we just words without feelings. A part from the others that had told me that, her words had more meaning then any other words I had understood in so long, which was difficult, because being deaf it was a challenge for me to understand emotion. By this time though, technology had blessed me with an amazing hearing aid, which faintly allowed me to hear. This was perhaps the best thing the foster folks had done for me. For the first time in my life I felt loved, truly. She was the very first person to open my eyes to the world. We traveled a lot, and to me it felt as if we where on a different adventure every time we went out because I had never in my entire life felt that freedom we all think we have but never experience. I felt like we have traveled everywhere after just 3 years. She attempted to convert me to Christianity, which worked for a while. I remember this one time when we went camping with the church, and everyone was telling stories around the fire. We all had to tell a story about our life that we were not proud or found of; this was some kind of bullshit exercise to help us understand each other better and unite us. It seemed as if no one else’s story was as bad as my story, when I admitted that I was abused and in different foster homes that all treated me like shit. No one wanted to talk to me from that point on. That’s when I concluded that this church shit was bogus and that it was just a way to control people and to get them to pay for the pastor and his family’s housing expenses.

My mother enjoyed shopping and wanted me to get involved but once she realized I was not as interested in buying things as she was, she tried so hard to find things that I would enjoy doing that would get me to be active instead of watching TV everyday. Finally, someone who really cared about my well being. “Young man,” she would say, “that T.V is not healthy for a kid your age, it will rot your brain.” It was like her voice was drilled in my head because even when she wasn’t in the room and I would watch T.V I could still hear her voice repetitively. I can still hear her scolding me to this day. Just knowing that her voice was permanently drilled into my head, I started playing baseball, and I was good. My mother watched every one of my games too; she even tried to help coach.

I played for 9 years and I loved every minute of it because those were the best time of my life spent with her, until her father passed away on my 18th birthday- the worst day of my life, my mother stop her life, she changed, she stopped going to my games which ended my Baseball career because that’s what we did together. We would talk about me going pro and living the good life forever, but that dream was buried in the pocket of the suit my grandfather is wearing in his coffin. He was a great man who knew how to brighten anyone’s day even if they were having a terrible one, and cared about everyone, even the people that did him wrong. This is where my mother got her charm, I recall a time when we were walking down the sidewalk and I ran into someone by accident. The guy turned around and started yelling at my mother for my clumsiness, but an innocent mistake, and all my mother did was look this guy in the eyes and say, “if you have a problem with me or my son then get over it because we have no problem with you.” After every time my mother saw people that where doing bad things to people or starting a problem she would turn towards me and tell me “those are the guys you don’t want to be, you will be much better then they are.” She was the type of woman that was carefree, without fears and worries, and she was the smarted woman I have ever known. She loves me and I love her with all my heart.

Understanding life is the one thing that I had to learn at a young age but I had long forgotten how to live a life of loneliness due to the fact that my mother was always there when I needed someone, and ever sense grandfather died my life had changed completely, my mother point-a-view on my life changed she felt that since my grandfather was gone, “the guy who treated me as his son” that I needed a father figure in my life. I remember wondering at times what would happen if I killed myself. Who would care? What would I lose if I killed myself? Who would even go to my funeral? For the longest time, these thoughts crossed my mind, but the only thing that stopped me from actually going through with it was the thought of my future and what my mother had always told me before my grandfather died, “no matter what happens to me, you shall live on with the thought of someday having kids, giving them the childhood I tried to give you.” If my mother hadn’t of told me this when I was younger, I would have just found a dark and empty hole to bury myself. You wouldn’t imagine how many time I considered that haunting thought but instead I left my mother and went back to California.

After two years of sulking, and had already graduating high school, I finally built up enough courage to apply to college and try to make something of myself. Both my mother and grandfather would have wanted that for me. They where always a fan of a college education even though had had never gone. They where the type of people that started working in a huge company working as a janitor and ended up co-owner after 15 years. They worked harder than ever, they where the type of people that there own boss’s would say, they are the quickest to get promoted, and also always put there family in front of themselves. I admired these qualities about both my mother and grandfather.

Applying for college is like asking a girl to be your girlfriend ‘Before you even know her’, you don’t know whether or not your good enough for her or know what she looks for in a guy, but you do know one thing, that is you think she’s hot and that you would love to be her boyfriend so that you can show her off. I waited for an acceptance letter month and months before I just gave up my dreams for the second time. Once I had found something else to do instead of my dream I received an acceptance letter from Berkley College of music. I hadn’t felt such happiness in a long time. College went by so fast. The first year was insane but I gave myself no time to make friends. I would always study and do homework. But as the years went by college became easier and things just started to fall into place as if that how it was always supposed to be. Of course I would miss my mother and my grandfather, which I still do to this day, but as the years passed I grew stronger, and felt like my grandfather was watching over me, and my mother still cares even though she had recently got married, knowing they would be proud kept me going.

My junior year of college I made some friends who accepted me for who I was and weren’t intimidated or scared of the shit I had gone through. They were nothing like me; they were outgoing and fun to be around. I felt like hanging with them would make me a better person. When I was not doing schoolwork, I was with them. We would smoke some weed and drink some liquor. Sometimes we would change it up a bit by taking some hits of acid instead of smoking weed before going out, and afterwards drink at my place. That wouldn’t be the end of our nights either; we would go out and tag buildings. I thought it was the funniest stuff ever, I tagged asshole everywhere. But what I didn’t realize was that I was slowly becoming an alcoholic like my father, and this realization made me stop hanging out with those people and start writing my a journal again. College really did fly by; “the best years of my college life” Sad thing is most of my college experiences I don’t even remember. I wish my college experience could be written everything in my journal from the time being.


Chapter 2: Facing the War Within

After college I met this wonderful woman named Christie Watts, I ended up marrying after a year of a crazy roller coaster ride of ups and downs. Kristy was a gorgeous girl, she was the type of girl that when you look at her you couldn’t help but get sexually aroused by the way she looks, she had long beautiful blond hair and bright blue eyes that could stop the busiest of traffic. And her smile that would light up the room no matter how dark it was. Her and I never fought; instead we usually just discussed our problems we had with one another.

The day that I landed my dream job as the youngest record producer in the world, was the day that I proposed to her, it was the most exciting moment of my life, I don’t know about her’s but I did realize that she was happy for me and that she was on for the ride due to the fact that she said “yes” to my proposal. I never in my entire life thought that I would be with a wonderful woman like her. The only thing that I was afraid of was loosing her because she made me the happiest man alive. She always brought the best out of me that is until the day of our wedding she announced that she was pregnant, I was struck with fear, and I never planned for a child or wanted a child in my life. I was struck with fear that this child might behold adverse validates that I once sustained. This child would either cause problems for me by bring the monster out that I once feared, or this child would be admired for keeping this monster calm, “if that was the case I wouldn’t be here telling my story in the predicament I’m in,” well back on topic; I was a surprised soon to be parent that also didn’t know how to be one. So the only thought floating around in my head was that I should give this child my everything, besides the monster trapped in me.

A couple months in to the pregnancy we found out what we where having and it was a baby boy. Kristy and I count down the months till the baby boy comes, we discuss where we want the baby to be born at and we have decide to have the baby in the hospital I was conserved, Pomona Community Hospital in Los Angeles. At this point of my life I was enthusiastic and felt ready for my little baby boy to be conserved, I wanted to teach him so much, like how to play baseball, how to throw a football and so on. I have a suspicion that my baby boy is going to bring the best out of me. “But you know how that always is, things you wish would go one always go the other way.”

After my baby boy was born I took a break from work for a while to take care of both my son and my wife Kristy, We where a happy family until I had to go back to work, my life was crazy because at this time my son Jason was 7 months old “Yeah I know that a long time to take off from work,” I had to go to work during the even, then go home take care of my son Jason and try and get enough sleep so that I can wake up to go to work the next day, “at times I felt as if I was raising this child by myself” what I forget to realize was that Kristy would take care of our son during the day.

I’m glad that I started going back to work at the time I did Because they needed me, my studio was being used to record a huge label for a huge band; Resin Kings, this record label was a big thing for company and I.

Half way through the process of this label being recorded the band dropped my record company, not because of anything I did or any lack Pleasance, but apparently the band dropped us because of something David Ladler said and did (second in command of the record label). This wasn’t the first time he screwed my company to make a fellow company famous. So I handled it, I followed him for a few day and learned how his day goes, after a few weeks I knew his living pattern and I knew when the best time to take thing into my own hands where. It was as if I was predator hunting my prey, and I was going to fix the problems that once put a damper on my life.

David underestimated me; he thinks I’m going to let him take my customers, he’s wrong. He found out how wrong he was when he woke up tied to a chair in a abandoned warehouse, as I held a shotgun to his head telling him how wrong he was for taking my customers and giving them away to competitive studio. I blew is head off before he could make an excuse on why he was doing me wrong. I cleaned his brains up off the floor and mopped up the blood. I Made sure there was no traces of me being there. “I have to get rid of his body some how,” I kept telling myself. So I threw the body in the trunk of my car. As I start to figure out where I should dump the body, my wife Kristy calls telling me that its getting late and that I should come home, so I do, I headed home and ignore that the body is in the trunk of my car.

“The monster is back; it wasn’t gone for very long but a couple years. At the age of twenty I committed my first murder, now I’m afraid again, I don’t want to hurt my family.”

My wife didn’t know what was going on as I was taking care of business, all she knew was that I was working late, she never asked questions which was one of the reasons I fell for her, what I did know was that she was getting mad at me because I wasn’t spending anytime with her or my son. I know I should have been spending more time at home, “to me my job is my home.” I get home after I took care of business, what do you think the first thing my wife Kristy said, She said; you took the time impregnate me, so I feel you need to take the time to help raise our son. If you want this baby to be raised properly then you need to do you part in raising him. I was getting pissed off. “She doesn’t know what she is getting her self into, I’m the last person she’s want to piss off,” I said to my self, so as I turned to walk away she went to say something and before she got the word out of her mouth, I turned around and told her that “she doesn’t want to make me mad, we have never fought once and I don’t want to start now. I don’t want you to see me when I’m mad.” I walked away, and she had nothing to say. As I walked to the front door the baby started crying, I turn back around to tell Kristy to get that but before I can get a single word out Kristy said ”that’s your kid too, you better take care of him”. So I did, I walked to Jason’s room and took care of him, my baby boy.

I wake up the next morning; my wife is out of bed and has already started to take care of our son. I make my way to the kitchen to fix breakfast and grab a cup of coffee before I go to work, and as I turn to grab a cup for coffee my wife asks me if I’m going to work late, my response was “ you know how my job goes, love! If I have to stay late to finish a label then I will, but for the most part I don’t plan on working late” until I made it out to my car and realize that there is a wicked smell coming from the trunk of my car, as I open the trunk I noticed that I forgot to dump the body last night before I got home, its was the corpse of my former associate David. “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, I really hope no one saw the body,” I said to myself multiple times. Thought that continues to run through my head was the thought of getting rid of this body. As soon as I closed the trunk of my car my wife came outside to wish me a good day at work, I notice while she is walk to my car from the house she smells something, when she finally gets to me she asks me, “what’s that smell” I had to tell her, ”I didn’t know and that I had to go to work.”

I was an hour and 45 minutes late to work due to the fact that I had to get rid of this corpse that was rotting in my car but the good thing about having my own business was that I could be as late to work as I wanted to. I ended up going to the landfill and dumping the corpse of my former associate David.

As I was driving to work, that foul stench of that decaying corpse that was once in my car was making me noxious. My first obligation before I went to work was to get rid of this rancid smell out of my car, or either buy a new car. I figured that my little boy was going to get older and that it was time to upgrade to an SUV, I assumed my wife was going to be happy that I’m showing an interest or at least that’s what I thought, when I got home that night that’s all I heard from her was “ how could you go off and get a new car with out consulting me or even bring the idea of a new car past so that I could give you my opinion” my response to that was like any other loving husbands response would have been,” I wanted to surprise you, you’ve been telling me that I haven’t been showing enough satisfaction and that I haven’t been home enough so I thought if I got a bigger vehicle, maybe even take all of us camping.” (Of course that was a lie but besides the lie your probably wondering what I did with the car, well I did what anyone would do if they had the smell of a rotting corpse in there car; I took it to a junk yard and paid them to crush it.) Enough of that, my wife’s response wasn’t what you would imagine, she stated that I was lying and she informed me that our son was to young to go camping, she was right Jason was a little over a year old but that didn’t stop me from arguing my point, I had to say “ its never to late to start and we need the room” she agreed. Finally I win an argument and we agree one something.

We ate hamburgers that night from some fast food restaurant, I ordered an all American hamburger with a side of enormous fries and I was drinking a cola; I remember it oh so well because that was the night that I came to conclusion that I have to kill my wife Kristy and my son Jason out of spit of her always wanting to argue with me every night. But before I went about killing my family I’d have to think about how I’m going to kill them with out have be become a suspect and I will have to wait till David’s body has been found.


Chapter 3: Getting Away With Murder

So the next day at work I couldn’t get my mind off what I had thought of the night before, killing my family and how sooner or later David’s body will be found. I wonder who they will suspect killed him, if they suspect me I will have to get my story straight to tell the cops. How ironic the cops showed up asking all the employees about David. A couple of minutes after they showed up at my record studio they asked to speak to me, (to be honest I was a little nervous) when the cops reached my office they asked me where I was three nights ago? I told them that “I was at Danny’s bar on 42nd street and if you ask my wife she wont know anything of it, I told her that I was working late that night. I need to get away for a night now that I have a kid, it takes a lot out of a man, working and then going home and having to deal with a kid. I need a night out”. The cops asked me “ would the bar tender recognize you if I asked him?” I asked the officer,” “Am I was a suspect? Yes the bar tender would say I was there, I was there for a while till my wife called me to come home. Is that enough officer? I have to get back to work, we have this new band in here recording if you don’t mind”. The officer said, “for right now you are not but if what you had told us comes back a lie”. The officer had nothing more to say and had left my office.

I went home early that night to tell my wife the bad news that I had come to find out earlier that day, and as I walked threw the door my wife met me at the door, grabs me and starts crying on my should. I was so lost and confused; I wanted to know what was wrong so I asked her “what’s wrong?” She said, “ I’m sorry about David, I heard, an officer came here”. As she was cried on my shoulder, I realized that I felt no sympathy about David’s death and I had no remorse because I was the one who killed him, it actually felt great to kill someone. My wife soon asked if I was going to be taking work off for David’s funeral, I said, “ No, my job is important, I can’t disappoint these artist that are expecting a record label. I have to have these labels done by next week so I might even have to work late hours for the next few days”. She stormed off angry. “Oh well!” I thought to myself.

As the day went by I could see myself-dazing off every second thinking of how I could get kill my family, well every thought ended with me getting caught and that’s not going to work. Then all of a sudden I had this crazy idea about moving to New York City and opening a new record company. That would be a great step for my business. Well the first step to this idea would have to be answer these simple questions; how am I going to get rid of my family with out any suspicion? Another idealist idea popped in my head, I will tell my family that we are moving to New York to open a new Record Studio in a week so start packing. Of course my wife will not be satisfied. In the mean time I’m going to have to poison their food and wait for a few days to go by for the poison to kill them. I will have to dispose of their body’s. How am I going get rid of there body’s? I’m going to have to think harder because I’m not sure what I’m going to do when I have them dead. “Shit”, well in a way this is a good thing that I don’t have this fully thought through and that I haven’t yet killed them, the cops still investigating David’s murder. What I don’t believe is that people are murdered everyday but for the cops here in California being hard Asses about this murder. Oh well I guess I will have to wait it out.

When I arrived home I was greeted by an investigator, he introduced himself as investigator Bails. He asked me the same question the Officers did when they were in my office, my response didn’t change; he stared at me for a good minute. I asked him, “are we finished here because I have a life to get back to” he flat out rudely interrupted me and said, “this isn’t over I will be watching you because I have a feeling you have something to do with this murder” he walked away as he finished what he was saying. He didn’t scare me at all, but he was right it wasn’t the last I saw him, for a few months I saw in front of my house, my job, everywhere I went there he was. Seeing him everywhere, watching everything I do it was starting to get frustrating. The thoughts of killing him crossed my mind but I know it wouldn’t work I would get caught. So instead I called the cops, I asked the cop about the murder of David. The cop that was on the phone wasn’t very helpful she transferred me to one of the investigators that were on the case. (I was seriously nervous about who was going to be on the other line, it could be investigator Bails) Once the investigator got on the phone he introduced himself as investigator Yates; (I was relieved) He stated, “the investigation was a closed case, the investigation had no leads and that they couldn’t pin point the cause of the murder, after he said this he asked me why I was interested in this case.” I told him, “investigator Bails is stocking me, he’s following me everywhere. its getting annoying, I have noting to hide but everywhere I go I feel watched. its as if I have no privacy…” before I could really finished he told me, “I understand your concerned but if you have nothing to hide don’t worry about it, I will talk to him about easing up, I'm going to warn you ahead of time, to him you’re the lead suspect, you want my opinion I don’t see how you could have done it your alibi is solid. I will take care of the problem don’t worry Wes, Investigator Bails will be spoken to.” I thanked him and quickly got off the phone. i remember thinking that these investigators are idiots.


Chapter 4: Death To Life By Knife

Later in that month i received a knock on my office door from investigator Bails, he walked in, apologetic for his actions on the murder of my former associate, (apparently they found the murder) i knew deep inside that he didn't believe that someone else murdered David my former associate. He continued to rant about some guy named Jeff Browns, some punk from the Bronx who had, moved to Pomona months ago. He had a warrant for his arrest in New York for the murder of his mother. Jeff thought that his friends would be able to help him while he was here in pomona. The story he told us was that your friend was... I rudely interrupted him telling him that i don't want to hear anymore, it puts me in a bad mood and thats not what i need right now. The only reason i was being put in a bad mood was that some punk was getting the credit for the murder i committed, but in the long run i should be happy because know the cops are off my ass and i could plan on the murder of my wife and my son. Bails soon left after he he made that he notified me that he still has an eye on me, he still has a feeling i committed the murder.


After this conversation with Investigator Bails had ended, I felt relieved and comfortable enough to plan my next family masquerade from beginning to the end. For weeks on, nothing stopped me from properly planning my execution.......

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