Wolfgang Devere/Finished

"I said hi to the wall... And it said hi back."

Hard question. What's my personality? Well, we'll start with... Smart and logical. Those two words do describe a lot of me. When I see someone I don't like, I think: What will happen when I kill them? Once I realize that the person is unloved and no one cares about them, I'll kill them. No big deal. All smart and logical. Once I've killed them, I need to stay smart and logical, and so I do. I clean up, I slip away, before many people are certain they knew I did it. Really, no one ever knows for certain if I'm the murderer.

This leads to another trait. I'm elusive. I can slip away like a shadow, talk myself out of a death sentence. And part of the key to this very important and handy character trait is to be smart and logical. See how it all ties together? Being elusive is indeed very important. When you're goal in life is to kill people, you need to make sure you don't get caught. Ending up in jail is not fun. I've been in Juvenile Hall, and that certainly wasn't fun. Imagine being in jail. I know I could handle it... Easily, except I would have no way to kill people. My cell mates... I'd be staring at them day and night hungrily longing to kill them. I bet if I tried to do it with my bare hands, a guard would intervene. No, I'd prefer not to go to jail.

Next trait. Bloodthirsty. Of all the above features I mentioned earlier, this one describes me the most. All I want is to be the cause of death. I want to be able to lift my gun, simply pull a trigger and see someone's life end. So satisfying... It's amazing the way people will stop mid stride and just crumple to the ground when I twitch a finger. I guess it's kind of like being a God.

Well, what do I do when I watch the hunger games? I drool in front of the screen wishing I could get my gun out and shoot the silly little tributes who don't have the guts to do it themselves. That just proves another one of my many awesome traits. Bravery. I mean, obviously I'm brave. I can parade onto a street, shoot everyone on it and then slip away as if I'd never been there. Billions of people do not have the guts to even shoot one person. Shooting. Seriously, the first person I killed was with a rope. Shooting is for sissies, unless you're killing groups of people, that is.

I'm not easily infuriated. That's for certain. Of course, now you'll ask, then why do you kill people? Well, because I want to. The people I kill haven't infuriated me in any way, I just feel like killing. I mean, all the people in the world are my little toys, I can choose when they die if I want. But the point is, I don't get infuriated. Somehow tries to tease me or bully me, I smile at them smugly and walk away. The next morning, they're dead. Easy as that. I have not reason to be infuriated by anything, unless my gun jams in the middle of a killing spree. Now, that would be a crisis worth freaking out over. Though I do enjoy killing with only a knife...

However, I am infuriating to other people. I am very good at insulting and annoying others... Of course, before they die. I have a way to twist and turn everything someone says into an insult directed at them. I know how to humiliate and make people burn with rage. A very good skill to have. I don't think there really is anything wrong with me.

But now, I can't help but delve into the things I am incapable of. Sympathy and empathy. All that "good" stuff that they tell you in school is what you should strive to become. Well, that's all a load of crap. I don't see how being sympathetic helps you at all, and I don't see how empathy is any different from sympathy. Really, these "righteous" qualities are just masks to hid the fact that everyone is just to much of a coward to be mean. Goes back to being brave, right? So sympathy and such is out of the question in my line of work really. Just, I can't imagine being a serial killer, and being sympathetic at the same time. That would lead to regret once you've killed someone, and bad feelings, and then if you're too guilty you end up going crazy, and of course, we don't want to go crazy.

Incapabilities: Fear. Honest to God, I am afraid of nothing. Think about it. Some of you people are afraid of spiders and snakes, or heights and blood. Me... I relish blood. I like the way spiders move. I like the scales on a snake. I like to push people off of heights. I have no fear. Therefore there is nothing to hinder me.

In many ways, I am untouchable. I am strong, much stronger than I look. I am smart and extremely sly. I am agile and fast. I show no mercy. I have no fears. And I don't play fair.

No, I never play fair. It's a truth to be certain. When I kill people, they are unsuspecting of anything. They don't think the sixteen year old kid who goes to the local school is going to whip around a corner and end every life he sees. No... very few people suspect that to happen. Occasionally, I will pick a fair fight to inflate my ego once I win. With my gang buddies, I'll fight them without weapons until one of us just can't move anymore. I normally win, except I never challenge the leader of my pack. I know I can't win to him, and I don't want to humiliate myself.

That's one thing I can't lose. My pride. Luckily, I'm smart enough to know how to not lose it. I hate humiliation, but I'm not afraid to be humiliated. For one simple reason. I know that the chances of being humiliated are very low. I am extremely cautious and there is no way you'll find me taking to large a risk on my reputation.

For that matter, what is my reputation? It's not as a serial killer admittedly. I know some people who suspect me of murder, but not mass murder, and besides they have no proof.

From the ages zero to eight I do not like my history. All it is me being abused and being wimpy. Heck, if I went back in time, I wouldn't have waited, I would have just assassinated my father the minute he started to abuse me. I don't know what I was thinking then. Maybe I was just to cowardly to pull the task off. I doubt that I actually loved my father at some point in my life. I know that I was always wishing for his death.

So this is how it started. When I was born something happened to my mother. I'm not sure what. Maybe she left my father maybe my father left her. Whatever the reason, she's gone now. I know she isn't dead though. I don't care, anyway. However, the point of explaining this is to show you I was raised by my father.

And it wasn't pleasant.

At age four he gave me a shovel, stuck me in our dirt backyard and said "Dig". So I dug, and dug, until I was crying of exhaustion. I went inside to ask my father if I could stop now. He said no, got really angry and slapped me across the face. I went outside and dug some more. I dug from 4:00 to 12:00 at night. Without water or food.

This continued. Gradually my father made me dig more and more and more until I was digging from 4:00 in the morning until 10:00 at night. I never found out why he wanted me to dig. I just dug so that he wouldn't throw me out of the house.

When I was six I met another boy though. For the first time I found someone who I kind of liked. Someone to talk to. His name was Ray and he liked to talk dirt about my father. He said that my father bought something called dopamine from him, and kept trying to not pay for it. At the time it made no sense to me, now it does. Anyway, he offered to murder my father for me, talking to me as if I was a wimp. I said no. I had another idea. I could kill him myself.

For two years I brooded on that idea. I hung out with Ray and his other friends (who introduced me to marijuana), and they urged me to kill my father. He was obviously abusing me, and I of course, didn't love him, so why not just get the job over with? I wouldn't lose anything if I killed him. Now, looking back, I don't know why I waited.

Finally, at New Year, I gave my father a grand present. I killed him. I'm not going to write down the details, but one thing I remember for sure of after the murder: I wanted to do it again. So I did. Ray and my other friends were really happy, they said I could help them with mass murders if I wanted to. I said yes.

The first mass murder I helped them with, one of us was dragged off as guilty but the rest of got away. No one really cared about Xavier who was going to be killed in the morning. He was an idiot not to be more careful, anyway.

So I grew up with this group. Ray is still the leader, but I have risen in rank until I'm second and command, and no one can challenge that claim. I am obviously the best fighter in this group besides Ray. Of course, I have began to resent Ray. I hate being second best, I need to be best. There are a billion possibilities open for me. I just need time to ponder them.

When I murder Ray, it won't be like the murder of my father. I won't be uncertain about it for two years and finally do that wonderful deed. I just need to plan everything out, and then I will strike. We have no love, us serial killers. We just think for our own benefit.

Somehow, any thoughts of his mother slipped away.