You Delicate Little Virgins
Oh, you delicate little virgins, still pretending your browser history’s all cat videos and Bible study. I know what you all think of me. I know that you’re repulsed by what I’ve done. Well, I don’t give a damn. My ass doesn’t give two fucks about what any of you think.
I know that by now my story has been in every newspaper in the country and some halfway around the world. I can already see the headlines: “Female Serial Killer Caught.” Or maybe it reads “Young Girl Accused Of Multiple Murders.” Whatever.
In another couple of weeks, the questions will start. How could this have happened? What turned this girl into… this? You people know the drill; we’ve seen it all before.
They tell me I’m not the first. They made a movie out of the life of the other one. What was her name...? The actress who played her won the Oscar, or so they say. I never really heard of her until I got in here. But who cares?
My cellmate here says she knows somebody who can get these pages out of here and post it on the Internet somewhere. Maybe she’s right and everyone will know my story, or maybe no one will ever get the chance to know what made me into what I am today.
But then you say, what’s the point of all this? Why would somebody want to read my story? It’s not for those people who think this way. With my story, maybe, just maybe, some young woman somewhere, whose life is in the toilet like mine was, will find inspiration in what I’ve done and continue in my path. Sort of like that Hannibal character in the movie. He had fans, didn’t he?
I won’t bore you with any of that unhappy childhood crap or phony psychoanalysis shit. My childhood was tossed in the gutter for the most part. I was lonely most of the time, and my parents had no clue what to do with a precocious, lonely girl. I didn’t like most of the kids in school, and they didn’t like me either. The school itself was a boring shitshow, and I passed through like a ghost.
One day in senior year, there was a fight between two girls in the school cafeteria. They started arguing about something, probably some whitty boy, and the next thing you know, they were rolling around on the floor, scratching and biting and clawing at each other. This happened just a few feet from where I was sitting, so I had a perfect view of the whole thing.
Watching them, I remember, the strangest thing happened. I felt my breathing quicken, and I felt as if the blood had rushed to my head. A tingling feeling between my legs started, and I had a desire to drop my hand down there and slip it inside my panties. My god, was I getting sexually aroused?
The girls stopped rolling at the foot of my table with one girl on top of the other. She pinned the other girl firmly to the bottom with one hand, and with the other hand, she started slapping and punching the face of the other girl. She got maybe five or six punches in before some teachers rushed in and stopped them.
I still remember how each punch or slap that girl landed raised my excitement level. It was as if I were punching that girl. I heard myself whispering under my breath, “Hit her again, harder this time. Hurt that bitch.”
I couldn’t tell what had happened to me. I was no stranger to sexual arousal. Hell, I was eighteen, and despite my loneliness, I had managed to find out what sex was all about… from a distance, of course.
But this feeling was so intense compared to anything I had ever felt before. I didn’t even know those girls, but they had awoken feelings in me which I never knew I had.
