Being bored is my biggest fear. I know it may sound stupid since there are other things to be scared of in this life, but since I was young not having anything to do gave me anxiety.
Now, when I say anxiety I mean that I begin panicking and trembling. I feel the wet sensation of sweat covering my body and for a moment my mind goes blank.
That's why throughout the years, in order to deal with this dread I have done all I can. At first, When the school bell rang and everybody was supposed to go home, I would stay after school instead. I enjoyed studying or joining a club. I had everything a child should have.
I had parents who never divorced or fought. I came from an upper-class family so the economy was never a problem and I was in one of the best schools in the nation. Yet, I was never a happy child...
I wasn't always so care-free with my life. My parents forced me since a young age to think about my future and be involved in academics. I never had the time to play around or be "me". My dad taught me to be outstanding in school and how money works. Even though as a child the concept of "money" was hard to grasp. I saw it all as a game, but that game ended up being my life...
My first experience with murdering was when I was 11. I saw a hurt puppy while I was on my way home. The puppy was limping and had blood all over his leg. The red liquid had already stop flowing but the dog was still crying and moaning. The innocent young me at that time felt bad for the poor little dog. I decided to grab it and pull it to my chest to bring comfort and warm to it. I decided to take it home.
I brought the puppy with me. I was going to keep it a secret but one of the gossiping maids noticed and told my mother and then my mother told my father. 20 minutes after I took the doggy upstairs to my room and laid him on the carpet I heard a knock on my door. It was my parents.
They said they wanted to have a talk with me. I tried to hide the dog but it was already too late. They demanded to see the puppy I brought home. After they saw the small creature they just looked at it weirdly and with disgusted eyes.
I remember the words they said "Get rid of it" said my mom. When I tried to ask her why my dad responded "Namjoon I thought you had better taste. This dog is from a bad breed, looks dirty and can't even walk properly. It's worthless" he said.
The tone of his voice and the word "worthless" struck me. My dad could be very strict and not show affection but the way he had treated a vulnerable small animal who had not done anything wrong to him made me cry. It wasn't what he said, it was the way he said it which felt like daggers stabbing my heart.
When I tried to plead them to let me keep it they didn't listen to me. They ignored me and told me to throw it out as quickly as I can.
After they left, I looked at the dog and wiping tears off my eyes I smiled at it. Perhaps i should had throw it out in the streets where I found it like my mom said. Or I could had hide it under my bed and pretend that it was gone but keep it. Knowing how gossiping the maids could be, I knew that it wasn't an option.
I couldn't bring myself to throw the hurting animal out. It would be cruel of me. The words my dad said stayed with me "worthless". That's what it was. It wouldn't survive by itself and no one else would take care of it. So I did what I thought was best.
I carried the injured animal with me to the backyard and with a shovel in my hands I laid the dog on the ground. The puppy looked back at me with its innocent eyes and still moaning in pain. I wanted to end its pain. If it weren't alive, it wouldn't feel any pain. If it were dead it wouldn't feel anything.
I raised the shovel and started hitting the dog with all my strength. I saw the bones breaking and the blood flying around and wetting the grass. Soaking the flowers. The dog screamed at first and struggled but after 2 minutes, it was done with fighting.
The puppy stopped breathing and closed its eyes. after seeing how calm it became I smiled thinking that I had done something good for it. If I couldn't have it, then no else can. If I couldn't keep the dog then no one else could keep it. I buried the dog with the same shovel.
I'll like to say that after that I did'nt enjoy killing the dog, but I would be lying. I found something to do. Something to keep me entertained. After that I started mutilating all types of animals. It helped me release stress.
I would make sure that my parents weren't around whenever I did it. That way I would continue being the perfect son everyone expected me to be.
I mutilate it all types of animals. My favorite one was when I captured a bird I've been checking out for a couple of months. The bird would always fly around my backyard but everytime I tried to capture it, it would run away.
I felt like it was teasing me because it could fly away and I could'nt. It could use its wings to escape every situation. I enjoyed when I finally put my hands on it and the first thing I did was cut its wings. It was a great feeling. The feeling of being powerful.
I began with animals but after some time, I got bored. I wanted to kill something else. Do something worse. Hurt something bigger and that's how I started kidnapping and killing my victims.
I had the really weird habit of growing bored of them. They were fun at first but after torturing them, they weren't that interesting. The longest someone lasted was 2 months and 4 days. After that I got rid of them because they were "worthless" like my daddy said.
They always are...