Children are cruel. They just want to see what happens when something breaks.

This Thursday afternoon, I sat in the car and watched three children stomp an animal that was already dead in the hot grass. I remember thinking cruel thoughts at that age as-well, “I wonder what would happen if I did this, if I did that.” but I never acted on them. Until the day I heard a loud bang on the back door. Something came over me, I got up to check. A very beautiful bird lay there on the ground, on it’s back, wings spread, heaving, with a gorgeous stripe of fresh blood across it’s chest and abdomen. I just stood there and watched. I watched it die the slowest death I could have ever imagined. It was just so breathtaking. I thought so at such a young age. Where my parents or my sister were, I have no idea. I wasn’t thinking about that anyways. Then, just when I thought it had another minute or so, it exhaled a very low, very deep breath. I had the sudden urge to fall to my knees and embrace it as if it would somehow breathe again. That moment soon passed. I studied it for another moment until I turned around, took a small knife and another utensil and started to mutilate it. I examined the bird from the very inside out. Until I suddenly realized I felt nothing. Now why was that? Shouldn’t I feel bad? Shouldn’t I not be doing this at all? I slowly put my utensils down beside the bird, stood up and gave it a long look before I kicked the knife and other over the deck so it would fall onto the dirt below not to be found for many a year. I twitched an odd twitch, slipped my tongue over my teeth behind my lips, stepped over what was left of the bird, went back inside and washed my hands. I stopped the water, placed my hands at each side of the sink and hung my head. Why did I feel nothing? I felt nothing but, inspired. These are the beginnings of a serial killer. But now that I’m seventeen, still haven’t killed anyone that I know of, yet have the potential of becoming a surgeon. I guess that’s when it started. Maybe not when it started, but just when I finally acted upon the stirrings. It may have been quick in standards of time but to me it was all very slow, very calm, very calculated. Now, something happens in a person when they experience such an event. Something that can never be explained with mere words. The next morning I looked in the mirror and noticed my eyes took on a bluer hue than they previously were. I just stared and stared and stared and stared. Today, I try not to look at my eyes for too long.