He was consumed by darkness in his soul; he was aware of that without a doubt; he also knew exactly where it came from. The abyss was complicated and increased with the horrible and senseless murder of his sister. His entire life caved in on him when he received the news. But soon all of that would be washed away, just like the bible says. His pain and suffering would be cleansed away by the blood of those that had wronged him. He would launder away the sins of the damned with their own blood, and this would bring about his own rebirth. He called himself Cain, that wasn’t his given name, but he liked it best.
He loved the inky blackness, it was his home. In the abyss he could be anyone and anything that he wanted to be. He loathed the black rage that overtook him sometimes, but he resented the meds they used in the nut house to control it even more. His life amounted to nothing more than pain, it was all that he could remember and relief was always just out of reach. He didn’t mind killing, as far as he was concerned life was an eye for an eye.
He paced the bare room he had rented; his hand went to his head where the ache had begun. In a fit of rage he had shaved off the once thick strawberry blonde hair. His mother had loved his hair, therefore, he hated it. When he looked in the mirror he didn’t know the person that looked back. The face had sky blue eyes, and some freckles smattered across the cheeks. He looked like a trustworthy boy next door.
In reality, he knew he was so much more than that, but he could use the boy next door look to get him places, to get others to trust him and that was a good thing. At five foot ten inches tall his chubby frame made mother’s want to pinch his cheeks, and women want to be “just” friends. So be it, better for what I have to do. He had a plan, and it was now time to put it to the test. Things must be set into motion he had waited years for this and now the time had come.
Now, he just had to get the job. The interview had gone well, he thought. After all, he was a great at hiding his imperfections. It was important that he looked normal, he laughed out loud. Normal, what was that? Well, he thought, the meds were good for something.
In the distance he could hear the ringing of a phone, it was his, he realized. “Leave a message,” the mumbled. Yes, everything was coming together for him. Soon he would be released from the hell that he had lived in his entire life. Revenge would make him whole.