Old SC - A Letter for a Female Sociopath - 2

The reason I so quickly ditched that relationship was because I had involvement in other things.

A Letter to a Rapist

At this point in my life I was living with some kind Christians. I had no where else to live because I didn't have time for a full time job. So essentially I had an extremely cheap rent because they didn't ask for much, just a small sum of money and for me to go to church with them on Sunday's. I also had to pay for my own food. So, I stayed after church for the Catholic Student Association meetings, which offered free meals twice a week.

I noticed you in church quite immediately. You were one of the first students I noticed. You were about my height, with brown hair and brown eyes. And you were very well dressed. You sang in the church choir. I could tell you were a fraud just from the way you stiffly stood. Every sunday you came in, dressed the same way. As if it were a costume. You were overly concerned with your looks- which made me think you were either putting on an act, or you were gay. Your demeanor was quite different from the other people your age. In fact, you hardly seemed to notice them.

I met a girl who, I won't go into much detail about because, I'm sure you already know quite a lot about her. I heard from a mutual friend, that this girl had admitted to being raped. My friend studied criminal justice, and thus it made her head itch that she let him get away with it. I told her to ask for a description. My friend came back to me with a description of you. I looked you up on face book, and asked my friend to show the girl your pictures. To which, she confirmed, "That's him."

I was quite excited to have caught you. Now it was completely up to me, how long I waited, how much torture I wanted to give you. I scouted out a few abandoned buildings and remote places fairly nearby. And found one that was perfect. Dark and isolated. I wrote out in elaborate detail how I was going to go about kidnapping and torturing you. This wasn't for revenge for the girl, it was because I was fixated with bloodlust at the time.

I watched you. After church we were sitting at the same table together, eating our meals. And I made a joke about sociopaths right in front of your face, but to someone nearby. I knew this would grab your attention, and you gave me a look that I can't describe. I can tell my joke to you was, unsettling.

I watched where you slept, and after three weeks I knew where your patterns were. I was a bit busy with schoolwork so I waited until the end of the semester to go through with it. It gave me more time to gather materials, none of which I paid for. I thought about shoe prints, finger prints, DNA. I thought about concealing my identity, and which weapons I wanted. I stole my friends kbar (ka-bar- united states marine grade knife). I volunteered in a hospital, and stole drugs and syringes. And when the day came, I stood outside your apartment and waited for you come outside, drugged you, tied you up quite nicely, and took you in your own car to my place of worship.

I was covered head to toe, to the point that the only identifying factor you'd have about me is my stature and my voice. I whispered in order to eliminate that factor.

Once you woke up, you were tied to a chair, that was attached to a large and piece of wood. So that way you couldn't scoot around or use the chair as a weapon against me. Also, you were naked.

I wanted you to be very afraid. When you realized you condition you immediately started screaming, and I said, "oh good, you're awake." And put on some music to drown you out a bit, mostly for my enjoyment.

I tortured you with pain until you admitted what you had done. After you admitted it I said, "good." And took out my knife, and carved "R A P I S T" into your chest.

I never touched you, the only thing that touched you was my knife.

And then I, "re-set" so to speak. I took off my shoes before I got in your car, and put them in a plastic bag. I put your car back into place, and I put you back into your home, I'm still wearing socks to avoid leaving shoe prints. I cleaned off my seat in your car with a lint roller, just to be sure. And then I got in my car, found a nice spot in the forest and burned my mask, ski mask, shirt and pants and my shoes and socks- changing into normal attire but still wearing my gloves. I drank some alcohol and cleaned the knife with it. I put out the fire with a cup I found on the ground and some water from a lake of sorts. I buried the syringe fairly deep in the dirt.

The next day I washed the gloves and donated them, and hung out with the friend one last time placing the knife back in its place while she was asleep.

And then that weekend, I left the town. Having finished the semester, it was around a time of year where majority of students left, and thus me leaving wouldn't even be considered suspicious under police investigation- should I ever be a suspect. All I had left of the night was a lighter.

None of this is true of course. Mere fiction.

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