11

KILLIAN I learned early on that I don’t fit in the normalized, stagnant, preached society. I was born to reign over it. No questions asked. Control isn’t only a need or a fleeting desire. It’s a necessity that’s as pressing as breathing air. Deep inside me lurks a serial killer with fucked-up fetishes and constant demands to satiate its desires. Sometimes, the urge is dull enough to ignore, but other times, it gets to be so much that red becomes the only color I see. However, I’m not low on impulse control like some other idiots. And I’m certainly not allowing a mere compulsion, obsession, or fixation to rob my control. Which is why it’s imperative to keep that serial killer entertained, quenched, and absolutely sedated. If my true nature were to be revealed to the world, the situation would get complicated and tears would look ugly on Mom’s face. She thinks I’m reformed and it’s going to stay that way until her death. Or mine. My father is much sharper and, therefore, harder to convin