Now that I'm sitting here, with my hands placed on the arms of this uncomfortable chair, in a scene that is so burlesque as actual life, I mentally review the journey of events that brought me here. I could not describe them any other way and, to be honest, I don't have the time to delve more in them.
I'm overwhelmed by terror… fear is suffocating, but really inside me, the feeling of tranquility is present. I don't have to deal anymore with these judging faces, I don't have to take in more of their constant criticisms, as they do not nor will ever understand my reasons.

If they had been in my place, if they had lived the experience, if they had felt the adrenaline, emotion, the joy of the action, I'm sure they would do the same as I did and feel the same pleasure, with the same momentum of a working conqueror. It is easy to blame me when they know nothing about me beyond what they believe they actually know.

The first time was difficult, unexpected, was not planned under no concept and yet, was the most pleasant of all. The times that followed were only an attempt to repeat that indescribable feeling that I can only compare with power, with domain, even if it was just an instant.

Seeing his blood running out of his body is what gives me pleasure, seeing the agony, seeing death approaching and feeling how his presence fills everything around me. That first time, I swiped a razor blade through the neck of a drug addict. If he wouldn't have been there, that blade would have been used to expose my veins to the world and let my frustrations and problems fly away along with my life. The blade was in my hand right when he attacked me to rob me, or to kill me… it really doesn’t matter, what matters is what my body was able to do with all this fear, in presence of a non familiar situation to it; and it acted the way that it kept acting after that moment: with efficiency.

I was leaving College after a school day as awful as usual. I was thinking on how my life would get better if I didn’t go back, if I didn’t live. Being in second year of Medicine, having one of the best scores and still being a victim of bullying that haunted me since High School, I think I handled it well so far. So that day I made the decision to end everything quickly. I had the basic knowledge to do it as painless as possible, so I bought my razor blade in a random store on my way home thinking that I had already taken too much, more than I should have and it was time to do it and leave. Walking through an alley that I never went to before because of my fear of being assaulted wasn’t as frightening, because now nothing scared me.

It was then, when around 4 p.m. of a normal day in my life, which I had decided it was going to be the last one, I heard footsteps approaching towards me and when I turned around the fear was immediate. I saw a man dressed with tatters, running towards me with a large knife in his hand. When I saw this, I couldn’t do more than paralyze myself and tightly hold the package of blades that I just bought a minute ago. Everything happened quicker than I can remember, I just heard a “give me all you got”, answered “take anything you want but don’t hurt me” and, while I was being searched with a knife on my neck, without him noticing I took a blade out of the package, I held it with the sharp edge looking away from me and in just one moment my hand descended with a speed I didn’t even know it could reach, I took the blade to the neck of my aggressor. What comes next is the moment my life changed. With his eyes open with no other look but horror and shock, he vainly tried to use his large knife placed in my neck, to stop the blood torrent coming out of his neck. He managed to stay up for a moment that felt eternal, he fell on his knees moaning like a hurt dog with his eyes staring at me, with his hands on his neck and I, standing in front of him with my left hand full of blood, with a razor showing its edge, watching how each second, in every heart beat a little bit of his life ended, watching how the blood kept bursting between his hands, just stood there until seeing how he fell on his side, with his eyes open, with his hands on his neck, until his last breath… that last and pleasant breath came out of his mouth, leaving his watered eyes with no life and his body laying in a pool of blood, his blood.

There I started running, I didn’t know how much time I had spent there, standing, next to that dead body, but I couldn’t risk getting caught. I didn’t stop till I got home, right to my room, locked my self in and sat in a corner crying because of what just happened. I couldn’t stop thinking of being caught, locked away, wondering if I should turn myself in, but then my mind started thinking about that memory of his last breath, which was pleasant, but then there was also the adrenaline that I felt that made me feel, not without a remorseful thought, good about what I did. It’s amazing how fast the body bleeds out when the carotid artery is cut and I guess that my brain in its survival instinct, using what I had learned to save lives, used that to take one.

I slept all night. I don’t remember the exact moment I fell asleep, I know it was while I was staring at my hands still stained with blood. I woke up with the blind certainty of being caught, being seen and chased by the law, but when I looked up the news, I just found a small article that illustrated how a dead body of a drug addict was found and how he possibly could’ve been killed in a drug quarrel. I couldn’t do more but laugh and think that the only drug that could’ve taken place at that moment was the adrenaline, and that his user was a young boy of a rich family who then thought he was never going to get caught.

That was the first but not last death. It has all been a swirl of events that took us to where we are today, 5 years later after that act, after 25 murders, sitting here in this fucking metal chair in a room with two guards on my sides and a crystal wall that separates me from the family members of many of those dead people.

Watching their faces judging me, I can’t stop laughing and when I’m asked if I have any last words, I can only say “If I could do it again, I would… to even more people” and at that moment, listening to the click of the circuit connection, I feel the electricity travel through my body and, in the end, I also take my last breath.