~4~
M.J
8th Sept. 2024
Dear Diary, I'm way more fucked than I thought I was. Today I was in the bathroom stalls using my cellphone. It has been a routine of mine to do that when I get bored in between classes. Some seniors came into the washroom while I was scrolling through my phone. I overheard them talking about the dead girl and how fucked up it was. Even though she died from a heart attack, there were multiple head injuries that were definitely not from just falling. It has to be someone who slammed her head to the floor. The heart attack was probably from poisoning. They haven't found the culprit yet. I was waiting for them to leave the washroom. Minutes went by and they were still talking. If I came out now, it would feel like I was overhearing their entire conversation. I waited and waited and finally, they left. I came out of the stall and returned to my classroom, my mind still on the conversation I overheard. If she had multiple head injuries which were not from falling then certainly someone who hated her or had a reason to kill her must've done it. I just need to know who it could've been.
My heart raced at all the possible people. Aaron? Maybe but I don't think it could be him, even though all Hershey did was bitch about him, Aaron wouldn't just kill her. Ayla? Maybe, if she had a motive. Her best friend, or I guess I'll call her 'only' friend, Tulip. I don't think she would kill her unless Tulip knew something that nobody else knew. I decided I should probably talk to her. I got up as soon as the class ended and headed to Tulip's class. I waited outside for her to come out. I saw many people walking out. Finally, Tulip walked out wearing a maroon hoodie, her nose red as if she were on the verge of tears. I asked her if she was okay and she nodded. I then asked her if I could bring up Hershey in our conversation, and she nodded. I had asked her about anything that could be relevant. She told me about how Hershey and she hung out the day before she died, and how nothing seemed out of the blue.
Wow, like, Hershey was just totally normal, you know? Like, she was as normal as she usually was before her death, so I guess she didn't know anything about what happened or whatever. So yeah, it's not like she was acting weird or anything. I guess I should think more, like, beyond this whole thing, you know? Like, maybe outside the box or something. Yeah, that's gotta be it. Maybe there's something I'm just not getting here, something bigger or whatever.
Dear Diary, what if what we're dealing with here isn't even human? Like, what if it's something way beyond that? I know the whole thing about the locked bathroom stall sounds crazy, but maybe it's not impossible, right? What if there's like an actual thing out there, and that bitch unleashed it, and now we're all cursed or something? I don't really know, but I do know that her death and that bathroom stall are totally connected, like 100%.
So I opened my phone to check for more details on the case, and guess what? No one went into the washroom like 30 minutes before Hershey did! That means it had to be empty when she walked in, right? But something had to be there. It's so weird! I don't get it, but I'm sure there's more going on here than anyone realises...
This totally shows that it might be something supernatural, like something we can't even imagine. It's like, maybe it's got powers or abilities that are way beyond what we can understand. Maybe it's so sneaky that it can't even be caught on CCTV cameras or in any footage, and we just can't see it with our human eyes. It's like it's hiding from us or something, and it's just too creepy and strange to be normal.
To help you get a clearer picture, let me describe Ayla. She has this black hair, somehow curly and wavy, falling just below her shoulders. Her skin is this slightly different golden-beige, and she's about 5'6" tall. She always wears these dark-coloured clothes, which just seem to make her even more... well, I don't know how to explain it, but she's definitely someone you notice.
As for me, I'm just a guy who tends to live in baggy clothes, which I guess gives me a pretty laid-back look. I love The Smiths—yeah, I know, not exactly a scene from 500 Days of Summer. I'm about 5'10" tall, and my build is somewhere between skinny and toned, not too muscular but not too thin either. My hair is dark brown and I usually keep it in a normal fringe cut with bangs that fall right to my eyebrows. It's nothing fancy, just a style that suits me well enough.
~5~
Ayla K
11th Sept. 2024
I finally did it. The devotion Aaron deserves—yes, the ultimate act, the sacrifice. A RITUAL murder, just for him. For my GOD, Aaron. Every drop of blood, every scream, all in his name. The world doesn't understand, but I do. I see it clearly now. This is what he needed, what he deserves. They won't stand in his way anymore. NO ONE will.
Yesterday, September 10th—a Sunday, a holiday—should've been just another normal day off. I had my regular plans lined up, nothing too out of the ordinary, but none of it was enough to fill the gnawing emptiness inside me. I felt this burning, restless urge to do something, anything. So, like clockwork, I opened my laptop, hoping for the usual fix, diving straight into the most depraved corners of the web. Porn. Hardcore. Gorno. You name it, I watched it. But still, nothing. No rush, no thrill, just empty. It's like my brain's gotten numb to all of it. Gore sites? Tried those too. Scrolled through some of the most graphic shit out there, yet still, I didn't feel a thing. No shiver, no excitement—just a dull, dead silence in my head.
I don't even know why I keep going back. What was I expecting? A jolt? A spark? I haven't felt anything real watching this stuff in what feels like forever. Maybe I was hoping something new would wake me up, shake me out of this numbness, but nothing worked. It was all just noise.
Then I thought about Randy. Yeah, Randy from class. She's hot, no denying that. We used to sit next to each other, and I've always had my eye on her. Oh, and she's bi. That just makes things better, doesn't it?
So I hit up Randy, you know, thinking about a hookup. Took her about 30 minutes to get here. I'd already showered, made the room perfect, set the scene. She walked in wearing this tight bodycon dress, and damn, she looked sexy. But something about her was...off. Like she was distant or something. Not that it mattered to me. I didn't really care what was going on in her head. I had my plan.
We started messing around on Omegle, scrolling through the usual creeps, then we got dared by some random guy to kiss. I saw her blush, so I moved in. Placed my hand behind her head, felt her breath as I rested our foreheads together. She closed her eyes, and I took the opportunity. Went in for the kiss—first just a peck, but then I took her bottom lip between mine. I closed the laptop without even looking, scooped her up, carried her to the bedroom. She felt so small against me, her body pressing into mine as I kissed her harder. She was totally into it. I could feel it.
I'm taller than her by a good five inches, so obviously, I'm in control. I'm the one leading this, the one setting the pace. I always am. It's who I am—stronger, more dominant. It just comes naturally. So, yeah, we had this full-blown make-out session. It felt like everything was going just the way I wanted, everything was perfect.
Then, when I slipped my hand into her pants, everything froze. She pulled back, hesitation all over her face. It was like she hit some invisible wall. The moment turned awkward real fast. My mind spun, trying to figure out what just happened, but whatever. We moved past it. Went back to chatting, like nothing weird just happened.
But man, that moment—it stuck with me. It was like everything in me snapped a little.
And then, like clockwork, the conversation shifted to our classmates, and guess who Randy decided to talk shit about? Aaron. AARON. She had the nerve to say he's "overrated"—like, what the actual fuck? She went on about how he thinks he's all that, how he's "just riding on luck," and "people only like him 'cause he's good-looking." Can you believe that? The guy's practically a god, and here she is, some nobody, daring to trash him. I could feel the rage bubbling up inside me. Every word she spat out was like poison, thickening the air and suffocating me.
Her voice kept drowning in. "I don't even get what people see in him. It's like he's just... ugh, all talk and no real substance. He doesn't deserve all that attention. People act like he's so special, but I bet he doesn't even—"
HOW COULD SHE?! My head was spinning. The words... every syllable she uttered was a stab to my chest. Aaron's PERFECT. Aaron is everything. Who the fuck does she think she is to even speak his name like that, let alone bitch about him? My hands were shaking, my thoughts a blur. I couldn't hear anything anymore—just her voice, and it was maddening, scratching my mind like nails on a chalkboard. I was inebriated—yeah, not just by lust, but by this hunger, this thirst for something more. Something deeper. It was like a storm inside me, and I didn't even think twice.
Without a second thought, I grabbed the wine bottle from the table. Before I knew it, I was standing up, towering over her. She didn't even notice at first, too busy running her damn mouth. And then—crack—I hit her, right on the side of her head. The sound... it was so loud. I almost didn't believe it came from her skull. She didn't scream. She didn't even react—just crumpled to the floor like a doll, her body limp, her head slumped over.
And there it was—her body, still and lifeless, surrounded by a pool of deep, dark blood-red wine mixed with her thick blood that flowed like liquid rubies. The sight... it felt surreal. It wasn't just the wine or the blood—it was the power in that moment. The control I suddenly had over her, over the situation. Her body, her mind, everything—mine. It felt good, better than anything I've ever felt. It felt as if I had finally done something right. As if Aaron had received the sacrifice he deserved. Another one who dared to hate him, another one who didn't see his divinity—gone.
I stared down at her body, at the mess I'd made, and I couldn't stop the grin spreading across my face. I stepped on her head, crushing it, just to ensure her death. Now, now I was in control. Now, Aaron would see. The world would see. This was just the beginning...
I knelt beside her body, now limp and cold. I checked her pulse to ensure her situation. She was dead. Suddenly I felt a rush of adrenaline. I had killed her. I. KILLED. HER. The events after that sure were exciting. I stripped her limp body, and fuck yeah. She was just as beautiful as I had imagined her to be, just as sexy as I thought and just as pretty as I wanted. I laid down beside her and started to make out with her. Even though she couldn't reciprocate the kiss, I could feel that she wanted this. As we made out, I guided my hands to her crotch. I could feel the wetness. Yes, she wanted this. I used my fingers and pushed them inside of her, then I pushed her finger inside of me. Her fingers were stiff and thick, I sat on her face as I came. It WAS AMAZING. Her pretty face was covered with me.
Now I had to deal with Randy's body. It was lying there, lifeless, and my mind was spiralling out of control. What if they find my genes on her? What if they figure out she was here with me? I didn't even ejaculate in her—hell, I couldn't. But that doesn't matter, does it? They'll find something, I know they will. DNA, fingerprints, something I missed. If they find her body, I'm fucked. She'll be declared missing, and guess who was the last person she was seen with? Me. It's too obvious. They'll track her phone, read the chats, piece it all together. She came here. They'll know everything. Every little detail. My house, my room, her scent, her presence still lingers, and the thought of that makes my skin burn. I can't let them find her. I can't let them trace it back to me.
Or what if I could convince them?
If I cleaned the house well enough, scrubbed every trace of her from my room, I could tell them that she left my place. I could spin a story that she was attacked on her way home. It's not unheard of, right? A girl walking alone at night, especially dressed like she was in that tight bodycon dress, and such good looks—people would assume things. They'd eat that story right up. "Oh, she shouldn't have been walking around dressed like that," they'd say. They'd think she was asking for trouble.I mean, look at her—she was always so vain, always craving attention. Always needing attention. Like anyone wouldn't notice her out there, alone, at night.
But it doesn't matter now, not really, does it? I could chop up her body into small enough pieces, scatter them far and wide. Maybe dump her phone in the canal nearby. Let the water wash it away, sink it down into the muck. Let the current take it far from here. And if they do manage get access to her phone? Or trace it somehow online? They'll just see the trail I left them—texts, snaps, everything showing she was heading home after she left. They'll never know she never made it that far.
"What was she wearing?" they'll ask. And the answer's right there in her phone, in those mirror selfies she took herself. It's perfect. Convincing. People always assume, right? Girls like her get attacked all the time. No one even cares about what happens to them. They just blame the victim—"It's in men's nature, women should be more careful." That's what they'll say. She'll just become another statistic, another face on the news, forgotten by next week.
I'll let the chaos of the world cover it all up. No one ever looks deeper. They won't see anything beyond what they expect. People only see what they want to see.
There are no CCTV cameras in our street, just nothingness, like the whole place is a unknown and forgotten corner of the world, deep into the void. The only camera around is the one at the street's end, where our little road meets the main one, and even that's pointed outwards, towards the busy street. It was perfect, like it was meant to help me. I mean, these days, CCTV cameras are everywhere, right? In front of houses, on street corners. But here? No one seems to have one in front of their houses—not as far as I remember, at least. But I couldn't risk it. Couldn't leave any loose ends.
So, I caused a power cut. A major one. It was easier than you'd think. Flip a few switches, and the whole area's in the dark. That was the first step. Then came the fun part. I chopped up Randy's body, piece by piece. The feeling, the sound—it was almost... soothing. I cooked the vital parts, starting with the heart. Damn, the heart was so tasty, like nothing I've ever had before. There was something so primal about it, the taste of her life still fresh.
For the rest, I fed some raw bits to the stray dogs. They didn't care, just gulped it down like it was nothing. I cleaned off every drop of blood from the road, made sure there was no trace left. Burned a few parts too, just to be sure. And the rest? The rest went into the canal. Along with her phone. Gone. No one's going to find it there. It's like she was never even here.
So, this was it—the first murder I committed for Aaron. But, honestly, it wasn't just for him. It was for me too. It felt good. Better than I ever imagined. There's something about it, something that fed both my hunger and my darker... desires. It wasn't just satisfying—it was tasty. My sexual fetishes, my cravings—they were all cured in that moment. But I know this feeling won't last long. This quench of thirst? It'll come back. I'll get thirsty again.
Oh, and the nose. Yeah, I cut off her nose. It's kind of weird—I mean, I know I'm completely weird—but I've always been obsessed with noses. There's something about them. So I kept it. I've got it stashed away, safe. If the cops ever find it, I'm fucked, no doubt. But they won't. They can't. The warehouse isn't in my name, nothing leads back to me. It's underground, in some snake-infested wasteland. No one even knows it exists, let alone would dare to go there.
I hung the nose on the wall with a nail, like a trophy. Thinking about it now, I kind of want a whole collection. Maybe ten noses, at least. Yeah, that sounds right. Let's see how things go from here. This is just the beginning.