I believed her but now my curiosity increased, and as we talked I knew she could tell. “Melanie, you obviously are fascinated by all this—are you willing to take the next logical step?” My heart practically leapt out of my body, and then she suddenly said, “It would be really simple to do something tonight.” I was not quite ready for what I believed she was proposing. “Look, Melanie, I was just kidding. We aren’t going to go out and just pick some person off the street and do anything to them. First, we would have to know that they deserved it. And second, such an activity has to be planned out really well. Are you feeling a bit better now?” I let her know I was. “That’s great! Now let’s find someplace to get something to eat or else if we are going to stay here we’ll have to start making out—I mean that’s what people appear to do here this time of night.” Needless to say my vote was for driving off and finding some dinner.
Nicole elaborated on why she felt that some people deserved what they got. She avoided specific details anytime I asked for more information which I concluded was due to her being careful, just in case I were to say something. I was almost 100% sure that what she was telling me was true after all, especially since Mark’s conversation—I mean really, he might be unconventional but I doubted he was capable of keeping up a story like this as he was not that cruel.
I tried to keep up the normal pace of life the next day at school—I had promised not to even mention the topic until we could meet up as a group. That day it was classes as normal—Mark’s class was really odd after our conversation. He seemed not to venture into any of his morbid joking, and seemed to go to great lengths to ignore me in class. It was a bit fun in a way. Not discussing our secret, repressing it so to speak, it gave the circle a form of vibrancy—like the sensation you can get when you know you need to repress some desire. Maybe this sort of thing can make one more creative—I just felt that it was interesting that I did not feel anxiety or fear…just some sense of something going on that I was not aware of—yet.
On Wednesday Daniel asked if I was free on Saturday, which of course I was. He then said Nicole would get in touch with me later in the day about the plans. She came up to me after school and asked if she could take me with her shopping. She then broke the silence and again asked if I was totally committed to the group—in every respect. I said I was, to which she asked if I had ever thought about what it was like to be around death—I said it depended on who was the center of attention. I assured her, when her face seemed to show doubt, that I was totally serious and that nothing scared me. She said she was glad and asked if I had any clothing that I would not mind throwing away, because we might go hiking someplace that was really messy. I said I did and that I would wear them. She asked me to bring something to change into afterward. She seemed really pleased and said we would have a great time. I asked when we were going to get together as a group and she assured me that we would on Saturday. Our excursion was all I could really think about all through Friday night, even though Nicole was quite secretive about what was planned for the weekend.
Chapter 12
Nicole had asked me to be ready at 8am sharp on Saturday morning. Who knew what the plan was for that day…all I was told was that I might have an answer to my questions sometime soon—had the time come? Was this the day I would get some proof, or would I forever remember this as the most elaborate deception of all time? I looked through my clothing and picked some things that I could do without if they got messy up in the woods and put them on. I placed a change of clothes in my backpack.
Nicole arrived right on time. She greeted me and said we would drive towards the mountains and meet up with the guys. She seemed a bit quiet—perhaps lost in thought about something. I asked if anything was wrong and she quickly reassured me that it could not be more perfect. She said that soon I would officially be a member of our circle of friends—this caused my mind to race around, contemplating the meaning to what she said. Soon I would have the answer I was so anxious to discover.
I once read that in ancient times many secret societies required initiations into their special group—sometimes these initiations would require a blood rite (in Roman society conspirators would often take part in a heinous act together to bond the group, as well as insure that a person would never defect and divulge the identities of the members, or their aims, since that person had also shared in the act). I suppose I should have incorporated the idea stronger that becoming involved in a small group which makes serial murder the central theme of its existence would at some point require the ultimate commitment.
I knew that that eventually the discussion would have to turn towards participation—and I had to admit that the norms of my upbringing had, over the course of almost two months, been slowly eroding—even the special brakes hardwired into us as humans that make it difficult, or even impossible, to take a human life had stripped away, little by little, to the point that now they did not really seem to matter to me.
Then Nicole asked me if I was strong enough to actually take part in such an act. I guess I was not entirely sure she was serious—but I still remember the adrenaline, the fear, the excitement that sent my heart pounding. However, I sort of did and sort of did not take the question with the seriousness it deserved So I looked at her and said that I suppose anything was possible, and gave her a smile—which may have given the clue that I was more ready than I was able to admit right there at that moment.
In reality, the idea intrigued me. Yet even then the thought that maybe I should get out of that car and call the police, and put an end to this insane conspiracy once and for all, did occupy a small part of my mind. Yeah, stop this madness from continuing, well…that would also mean putting my friends behind bars and for what, so I could then continue my life as it had been up to this point? And if they were indeed being honest, the people who were their victims must be deserving of their fate.
The idea of doing this sort of thing in real life was tempting, as much as I hated to admit it. And still, even with all the evidence I was not totally convinced that a highly educated teacher, and two really nice young students like Nicole and Daniel, had participated in the kinds of acts they described. Maybe I was still in a state of partial denial—and this was part of some ultimate fantasy role play… or was it?
The answer would come very soon. I was kind of lost in pondering these questions and admiring the beauty of the day… it was now well into fall and the leaves were vivid in color—a wonderful contrast to the evergreen trees. It was partially overcast with only a hint of cold. My concentration was only broken by Nicole suddenly turning down an old dirt road and mentioning that it was only a couple of miles now. “Try to be patient.” she asked, as if that was a problem for me as I had always anticipated my life’s destiny was to be far outside the norm—maybe this was the moment that would confirm my outlook.
We were both quiet and I just stared out the window. It was an “Indian summer” sort of day—the sun’s rays were bent the way that tells you winter is on it’s way, but still bright, and illuminating the contrast of yellowish and red maple trees mixed in with the always green fir. I liked days like this as they would always cause me to remember my earliest childhood memories—not sure why, I just have always found this a “reflecting” sort of season. I was lost in my mind only for a moment and then Nicole said, “They should be right about here”.
We then saw Mark’s car parked off the road in an area that was very remote. We got out and took the trail, if you could call it that, as it seemed more like something deer used rather than any people. We crossed a little stream and then continued along the trail that now seemed to be going into a canopy of small trees. Nicole asked if I remembered the conversations we had engaged in about Adler’s views of some people, such as prostitutes, being the failures of society. I said I did and now I was really wondering what direction she was heading. Then she asked why it was that so many murderers single out these elements as their victims—why victims were often not so innocent. I mer
ely answered that perhaps they are seen as bringing society down, like a pathogen, or perhaps when such people disappear nobody misses them for a long time, and even if they did maybe their friends figure they have moved to another location without telling them. Disappearance of many types of people may not attract attention in such a may as to lead investigators to the crime until many of the clues are gone.
Nicole said that she agreed and that perhaps people do not even care that much anyway—after all, many societies impose a death penalty for such crimes anyway.
In a moment I was able to sense people ahead—probably Mark and Daniel with some sort of game in mind or something. However, what I saw was something totally unexpected, horrible, frightening, yet at the same time I guess I was not really surprised at what came into my view.
What caught my eyes was a young woman, barely older than me I would guess, laid out before me like something from an ancient sacrificial scene. Her arms and legs were stretched out and tied to ropes with some sort of soft-looking bands fastened to her wrists and ankles, with the other end of the ropes fastened around what appeared to be the kind of stakes you use to set up a tent on a camping trip. She seemed hidden from all except us in this small opening in the trees and brush where she was barely noticeable unless you were standing right next to her. And I thought to myself a drama was to unfold in this little, hidden grove that I now was anxious to delve into.
The woman was only wearing a small black skirt and her mouth was gagged. It was apparent this was not some friend who had agreed to play along with a role-play drama—the look of fear on her face and the muffled screams of desperation were far too genuine for that. She seemed to be trying to fight the constraints of the ropes as you could see her abdominal muscles contracting, straining, in the manner of someone desperately trying to get one last sit up accomplished but just not being able to manage. Yet soon after she noticed me she seemed to relax—perhaps seeing Nicole and I gave her some feeling of relief since we were females and, well, one can imagine why she might feel safer.
Mark immediately came over and took my hand. He asked if I remembered our conversations the other night—of course I did! That was the first thing that had come to mind once I saw the woman lying there (in reality I think I was convinced of my suspicions right from the start). Mark asked if I was ready to see what it was like to truly take part in the ultimate violation of human law, natural law…even God’s law. I found myself unable to really move at this point—I could not even answer him—I may as well have been tied up besides that woman as I was utterly unable to respond, run away, or comply with what I knew was expected of me.
Then Nicole took my arm and guided me a bit away to talk with me privately. She reminded me of when I had mentioned a fantasy of a sacrificial scene—had that been how I had come across? I nodded and then I remembered asking something—I asked who the woman was here. Nicole only said she would fit my criteria for someone who had forfeited the right to continue in our world. When I asked what she was or what she had done Nicole asked if I trusted her and Mark. Of course I did. Mark then came over and talked to me about what it meant to become a judge in a society that lacked a legal system with a foundation with any character left. I do not think I needed any real convincing, just some encouragement for what was to happen next.
When I finally had made up my mind, or at least thought I had, Mark handed me a knife…a knife that looked like one of those ceremonial knives that people buy at tacky fair stands or in fantasy stores. Mark looked at me and nodded. This contributed to the sense of a sacrificial ritual, maybe Mark playing the role of a high priest in an ancient society, conferring upon me the honor of conducting the blood rite. I glanced up at Mark and he gave me a somewhat concerned, but affectionate, look. I let out a sigh and returned a crinkled smile to him and said, “Okay, this is it, huh?” Mark started to ask, “Are you sure you are up to…” I interrupted him immediately and stated, in a re-assuring manner, “Don’t worry Mark, I can handle it from here.” And I took the knife and slowly walked over to the woman.
She was still struggling to get out of the ropes that bound her, maybe merely to show that she was making the attempt to get away, even though she must have known this was impossible. She turned her head to me and must have seen the knife in my hand because she stopped moving for a second and then let out a scream and pulled even more frantically at her restraints. Then she looked at me again, with a begging sort of expression, perhaps trying to communicate the desire to be set free…the chance to get away…maybe even to start life all over again after facing such an ordeal.
I moved closer to her and could feel my heart pounding—keeping a rhythm of sorts. I think that I had more fear than her, yet at the same time I felt strangely calm. At this point it seemed I no longer took notice of the people around us anymore…I knew they were there but now it was just her and I. What felt odd was that it was as if she had been given to me as a present, and I, alone, controlled her fate.
Then I remember wondering what she was thinking. All of us wonder when we will die but here she was facing the reality, the moment of truth that we all dread. I knelt down on my knees and looked at the knife…I knew at this point that if we turned back the least we would all face, if this got out, was kidnapping which could lead to a life sentence in jail. There was no turning back, and in a way this made me feel more calm….knowing what would happen next.
In my mind I had already determined how this was going to end. Yet there was perhaps one last string of civilization left, pulling me back from what I knew was going to occur. I knew that the longer I hesitated the harder this was going to be—who knows, maybe something inside of me would suddenly pull me back and make me unable to go through with this. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes a moment trying to focus my mind, heart and soul on what would come next. Then…I made my decision to take the final step and ignore any thoughts to the contrary.
I did not want to look at her face as she tried desperately to communicate to me. I looked at her exposed chest, and trying to determine the location of her heart, fixed my eyes on the point just below the sternum of the rib cage. I took a moment and then looked up at Nicole. She nodded in an encouraging, hurried sort of way. In a second that seemed like a lifetime, the same as when one jumps off a 20 meter diving board, that exact second seemed to move so slowly, as if to occupy an eternity. That was when I sank the knife into this hapless young woman.
The force required for me was surprising as there seemed to be no resistance. That instant I looked away from the knife that now was firmly planted in her and caught a glance of her eyes as she looked at me with a horrified “You did it…why?” sort of look. It was only then that I really noticed her eyes—they looked like mine. I had made an emotional contact, maybe even an intimacy was shared as I knelt there, still holding the knife with one hand, yet all but buried in this woman.
A moment of perfect understanding now existed. I now knew that I had committed murder, and she knew I had killed her. No, she was not dead yet, but it was only a matter of seconds, which she must have fully understood as her eyes left contact with mine, looked down at her body, and then back at me only for a second or two—then looking desperately in all directions. Her body contracted violently now. This caught me off guard…I mean, in all the movies it seemed that if someone was stabbed in the chest they died rather quickly. Yet there she was moving and her face still carried that shocked look of disbelief and agony. Then I found myself not so much connecting with her, in those short seconds, but wondering strange questions.
I wondered about the idea of death. This was not an experiment, but still…I wondered about death. It is hard to comprehend death for most of us, and it remains an abstract notion until that actual final moment occurs. Yet here before me was someone who knew it was her time—there would be no rescue possible, no last minute anything…she must have known what was happening and that everything for her would soon be over.
I cannot say what I was really
in control of my thoughts for a period of maybe a minute. I think that I was on auto-pilot at that point. Then I seemed to come back into focus, into reality—and I was very curious about what was going on. I fixed my eyes on the body now stuck in some sort of chaotic struggle to escape its fate. I was fascinated by the process before me. Then I asked myself if this confirmed I really was a psychopath, a psychopathic murderer at that. I mean, I was now observing a situation that would probably horrify the typical person, yet it was presenting me the opportunity to examine what was happening to the body next to me—a still living form but soon no longer able to be called human. Was this perhaps the ultimate form of intellectualization—seeing a normally fearful event more like a scientific inquiry? I do not know, maybe it was a combination of all these concepts.
However, at that moment I started thinking about things that I had read about concerning near death experiences. Her body was now only moving slightly, the breathing more relaxed but becoming more spasmodic, more a struggle…but weakening upon each gasp. The movements of her body seemed to be more like nervous twitches, and her eyes seemed not to convey the lifelike spark that only a couple of minutes ago were vivid and piercing. Her face seemed to be fading into an empty form of expression.
Melanie's Journey Page 13
