It Hungers For You

Another day near the peaceful lake. How lucky am I that I get to wake up to the rippling waves each morning and go to sleep near them. The sunrise sparkling over the water is the only thing that makes me feel anymore.

Mom used to say that the water could wash away your sins. I never believed her until this past year when I finally acted on my impulses. Then, the water was my best friend. It was there when I needed a place for the bodies and there when I needed to wash the blood away.

Growing up, I didn't think I was a bad kid. In fact, I tried so hard to fit in. I always had good grades, played sports, had plenty of hobbies. Something just didn't click in me. I saw the other kids smiling, happy, laughing. I didn't want to be different, so I smiled and laughed alongside them. No one could tell my laughs were fake. No one knew any better.

The first time it happened, I saw red. That stupid kid next door kept screaming in my face, and I lost it. He always was a loudmouth with no brain. I couldn't hold the rage that had been boiling in me any longer. The sad part is, I don't remember it. Just like I don't remember any of the others.

It's like I became a different person each time the knife came out. I would always come back to myself at the same point when I was standing over the body covered in blood. Then the laughing. At first, I didn't realize the sound was coming from me. It was a burst of strange, garbled laughter. The first time I truly laughed-this time, it wasn't faked.

Each weekend, I would consider my next victim. Who would I go after this time? Eventually, I had to start traveling out of the city for my victims. Surprisingly, no one ever suspected me. I was the good kid. I was the one who everyone knew. Their parents knew me; they knew me. Except, they really didn't.

The killings started getting too easy, too predictable. That's when I started going after groups of people. It kept things lively, interesting. At least for a bit. After a few years, even that didn't satiate me. So, I stopped and went back to pretending. I was "normal" again, and no one had ever caught the killer at large.

And so, the lake became my best friend. It held my secrets better than any person would. It kept me company on long, lonely nights. And it never judged me or what I did in the dark.

So here we are, sitting in a canoe on the lake. Trying to feel something deep down inside. It's still not working. There's a big empty, black hole inside my chest. Almost as if I was born without a heart. Obviously, that's impossible-I got good grades, remember?

The fog is thick this morning. You could almost lay on it like a pillow. More twigs than I can recall are poking out of the water this morning. The air feels cooler on my face, and the wind feels different.

The water is trembling in an odd way as if there are mini underground earthquakes that are reverberating the water. The twigs start reaching for me; they're dragging the canoe back. That's when I notice the bodies have surfaced and are surrounding the boat. They're moving closer-all of them.

Closer and closer, they drift, almost as if they're alive again. I swear I can see them swimming towards me. That's when the first head pops up, and I realize that it's my turn. My turn to go into the lake.

It's hungry and hasn't been fed for a long time, and I'm the closest to it. When I was feeding it, it was my best friend. Then I stopped years ago. So it's grown hungry and angry and demanding.

What a fitting end for me going into the lake. And yet...I still feel nothing as I am dragged down, down, down.