The Journal of David Long

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When your entire existence is filled with pain and hate and torture.... Who will you become? The Journal of David Long is written in the form of a personal diary of a serial killer who methodically abducts and tortures people. His goal is to change the world by becoming what he believes is the true face of humanity and through various forms of torture tries to condition his victims to the understanding that they are the reason that people like David are allowed to exist. However, all of his well thought out plans and routines are thrown in to disarray when he begins to ‘fall in love’ with his most recent victim. Caught in the throes of ever increasing psychosis he begins to believe that this person has fallen in love with him too. They share torturous moments together which he believes are positive steps towards developing something very special together. Whether she has just being playing along to gain his trust or whether she has fallen victim to Stockholm syndrome, we are not quite sure. The story comes to a violent and catastrophic climax when a certain revelation from the woman/victim causes David to question his whole life and everything that he believes in.

Horror / Erotica
Robbie Lee Hurst
5.0 1 review
Age Rating:

Chapter 1

I know that I can leave whenever I want to. Walk straight out the door and never look back. Until they catch me that is. I can’t think about that now. I’ve got to concentrate on how to keep her alive whilst inflicting serious damage. It’s a fucking tough task, I can tell you. I had to get rid of her tongue this morning. She managed to somehow get the gag off and started screaming for help at 2 o’ Clock this morning. So the tongue had to go. It was bound to go at some point, so it might as well have been then. Lucky for me, my loft is pretty sound proof. It has to be. I’d never get anywhere if it wasn’t.

The minor cuts from the first day are starting to heal and scab over, which is good because I love slowly re-opening them again. I can’t wait to do that with the tongue.

It’s strange. I’ve started to notice little routines emerging. The first day will usually consist of small cuts and basic mental and emotional torture. Maybe a fuck, depending on whether that feeling in my center is there. Sometimes I get this swelling feeling in my belly when I see them naked for the first time. It’s when they look innocent and soft and the low light from the lamp casts this faint smile over their face and it seems like they want me to do it. Like they are pining to be abused and fucked so hard they want to vomit. It’s this little twinkle in their eye. The soft curve of the hips, ass and thighs…I don’t fucking know. All I know is that if I want to, I will.

The second day usually consists of bigger cuts. Sometimes a few stabs in places that don’t bleed that much, like the hands or the buttocks. I especially like the buttocks because when you sit them on a hard chair for hours, you know that it hurts. Near the end of the second day, just before bedtime, I like to start introducing the punches to the face. Nothing serious. Just a little something for them to think about before they go to sleep. If they go to sleep, that is. Do they sleep? I dunno. I’ve never checked. Maybe I’ll start. And then not let them. Yeah, that’s a great idea. I’ll remember that for next time. Sleep deprivation can do some wonderful things to a person. I remember, during the first visit I had, I was so full of life and energy that I didn’t sleep for 4 days. She didn’t last long haha.

For some reason the third day takes a severe step up with lots of kicks, punches, stabs, cuts, shaving off patches of skin, that sort of thing. I suppose it’s because I’ve become accustomed to adding in resting days after the third day. It makes their visits last longer.

The fourth day is a resting day. Then on the fifth day it continues, then the sixth day is a resting day, and so on. The longest visit I’ve had was forty two days. I can’t remember if that was a guy or a girl. What I do remember though is that I had to kill them suddenly, which really fucking angered me. Not as angry as I was before literally skull fucking him, pushing his eyeball deep into the mother fucker’s brain. Because he was here for so long we found ourselves talking, quite a lot actually. There were some days that I had planned to do things but when I got upstairs and opened the door, they almost looked pleased to see me, asking me how I am and if everything was okay. One day, the day I killed them, this piece of meat starts asking me why I think I am the way that I am and why I do the things that I do. I asked them why is it they do the things that they do. They didn’t understand what I meant. They said that there is no reason to question the things that they do because they don’t do anything wrong. I laughed and said, “The world is a dangerous place to live in, not because of evil men, but because of those that don’t do anything about it”.

I told him that I am the true face of people. I am what we really are. If people were to look beyond their distractions and look at their one true reflection, they would see my face. I told him that I didn’t want to be the way I am and that it is because of people like him that people like me exist.

You could have changed the world”, I told him.

But instead you preoccupy yourself with an over abundance of decadence and frivolity, sticking your head in the sand, ignoring people like me and worse until you find yourself here face to face with it”.

He still didn’t get it.

Have you actually ever taken a moment to look at the world that we live in?”, I shout.

I know that the world is a horrible place and people do terrible things but what the fuck am I supposed to do about it?”, he screams at me.

Something”, I scream. “ANYTHING!”

Those were the last words he/she ever heard, apart from their own screams, of course.

Tomorrow is the sixth day, a resting day, and I’m wondering if I should skip it. I didn’t have a good day today. My heart wasn’t really in it and I feel a little disappointed in that. So I want to do more tomorrow, but that means breaking the routine.

I NEED to beat forty two days.

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