Author's Note: Another story already? Yeah, I know...what is this. Of course you'll notice it isn't terribly long. It's just an idea that popped into my head and wouldn't go away so I took some time out of my evening to throw it onto my computer because I was tired of thinking about it. So yeah, this could take place in canon with Tom looking back in death on that night like in my previous story Burn Out, or it could be taken as being in my AU where Tom doesn't die and he's talking to someone in the mental hospital. So yeah, have some Tom being icky and human. Also, I like rhinos.
They don't understand my meaning. They cannot decipher my code, which is quite a pity when I think about it. I'm not all that hard to figure out. I always give them the same answer to their mundane, little, question. Why they find it so hard to comprehend is beyond me. A real conundrum, a mystery. So many unneeded words…but yeah, I just don't get it. They've asked me the same thing a million different ways. Creative ways to word the exact same thing over and over again.
"Do you feel remorse? Are you sorry for your actions, Thomas?"
Ok, make it a million and one. Mark up one more tally on this wall of mine. I've told them though. I've told them. I truly have. I've told them a million times for their million questions, and I'll tell them a million times more if they keep on asking me with the frequency they do. Like they expect my answer to suddenly change all of the sudden. A sudden enlightenment coming down from the sky in a flash of light to show me the errors of my ways. That's not happening because honestly, I already know the error of my ways. I'm crazy, not stupid.
Still, these people want to know, and that's not really all that bizarre. Poke the freak and see what comes out of him. I get it, but I can't say I'm very fond of it. A therapist would notice my distaste for people who want to poke and prod at things that don't need it if I bothered with them or took them seriously. They all want to make sense of my mind, but how can they hope to understand it if their interpretation of it skews its meaning beyond any sort of recognition? Applying their sense to my mind is something akin to trying to stick a rhino through the eye of a needle. It's just not going to happen unless you rip the rhino up into teeny, tiny, scraps…threads if you're really going for getting that rhino through the needle, and by then you might as well not even call it a rhino anymore. It's just not worth the effort. You're not putting that rhino back together again. Even if you do, you'll just have a dead rhino.
I really don't know where I'm going with that whole rhino thing, but well…I had a metaphor, and I just kind of kept going with it. I don't know. Maybe it makes sense. I couldn't tell you. I couldn't tell you a lot of things that I'd like to for fear of misinterpretation.
Don't get me wrong though. It's not that my thoughts are completely senseless or anything like that. It's not like they don't make any kind of sense. That's simply not true. My thoughts make sense, but not in the way the world wants them to make sense if you get my meaning.
And now you're giving me that look. That painfully curious look that they all get as soon as I start talking or they hear about what it is I've done. I suppose one does not often get to pry into the mind of a murderer, a psychopath, or simply a "psycho". It's interesting, I'll admit. I even entertain myself with some questions of my own. Of course, they're much more interesting and developed questions than the one I'm sure you're thinking of right now, yeah?
You're curious…you want to know too. You want to see if you can understand me. Figure out what causes many people to find me disgusting and vile, less than human.
You want to know if I'm sorry. You want to know if I regretted doing the horrible things I did. Kidnap, murder, inappropriate touching…I won't deny that these things happened. I'd be an idiot if I did, and I'd also be in denial. I'm past that stage now I figure. Besides, it's hard to deny something happening when it can be seen playing out before you on a screen.
Still…it's a curious question. Am I sorry? Well, that all depends on what you're talking about.
Let's just get this first little thing out of the way. I'm so fucking sorry about Rocky. I just…he hadn't done anything. Silly pooch was only doing what I told him to. I'm such a horrible pet owner. I shouldn't have been able to have a pet rock let alone a dog. I was lucky to have Rocky, but damn…poor boy; he didn't deserve to be in my hands. Ah, but now I'm making myself sad, and there's other things to attend to.
As far as Karl's death is concerned…I'm kind of in the middle of the road. He didn't have to die, and really…I am sorry his death impacted people. I feel bad for his kids, his wife…it's unfortunate that his death hurts people whom I can't say I have anything against. They've said some incredibly nasty things to me, and I don't blame them. I took someone away from them that they cared about, and I'm a horrible person for that.
However, if you want to know if I was sorry in that moment…well, frankly, no I wasn't. It wasn't that Karl had wronged me in any particular way. Not at all really. He was actually rather tolerant of me if not nice to me when I did see him. Occasionally, I suppose he'd roll his eyes at me, especially in the beginning. I was always running up to him and asking him how to do certain things. He'd always point me in the right direction and send me back to my post.
I still killed him though. I thought of it as more of a necessity than something I truly wanted to do. Distanced myself…and if you must know…I really didn't want to kill him. Just knock him out so that he wouldn't get in the way of my plans…
But I…it just felt so good. I hit him too hard, and I knew it just wouldn't be right for him to go on like that, and I mean…shit, it just felt so fucking amazing to get out all that god awful frustration. I remember smiling as he hit the ground. Poor, poor, Karl…I enjoyed the moment. The fucking rush, but when it was over I felt like such shit. I'd killed someone. I'd killed someone! Me…the stupid, insignificant, Joe had up and killed his co-worker. An accident honestly, but I had enjoyed that accident. Felt myself something close to crying when I dumped him in the elevator shaft.
So as far as Karl's concerned…I'd say that of everyone involved I can say I am sorry about that whole thing with Karl. More so the effect it had. It's unfortunate that Karl's not among the living. It's sad his family's going to miss him, and it's a damn shame that it's my fault. But the high I got from that moment before I realized what I'd done, I'm not giving that up. I really don't know if I've ever felt more exhilarated in my life.
I'm assuming you also heard of the nastiness inflicted on Jim. Beat his brains in before giving him a whole body makeover with my car and the wall. Like Karl I really had no intentions of killing the fucker, but as I tend to do I got carried away. I wanted to show him…show him that you don't mess with people. Just thinking about it is making me feel sort of warm and fuzzy inside. Don't give me that look. You don't even know the feeling. I know you haven't. Jim was a complete asshole, and I wanted him to know me. See my face and know that there are people out there who aren't willing to put up bullshit like his. I wanted him to remember that, which is why my initial plans didn't involve him being dead.
So much for that. I'm moody. What else can I say? Killing him felt like exorcising all these demons I had in me. That asshole was this effigy that I had to burn, send a message to the world that Tom wasn't taking it anymore. Yes, I suppose I did do it for her as well, but…well, I'm selfish. She was just one element of all of this. She tipped the scale, but I feel like I was just building up to all of this on my own.
I'm not sorry the asshole is dead. I'm not sorry I got pushed to the point of making him a martyr for a cause he wasn't even aware of. If you must know, it was far more satisfying that Karl was because I wanted to hurt him. Make him suffer. Make him pay for all the pain I'd ever felt. Every single pain I'd ever endured in my life. All the times I'd felt abandoned and wronged. He was all that put together into this lump of human flesh. A punching bag for me to destroy to prove to the world that I could do it. That I was the white knight they'd all been waiting for to save them from the wretched things in the world.
How funny that I'm one of those horrible things now. Irony is quite the nasty beast isn't it?
Still, that bastard had a family. A kid…a baby, and my heart does go out to that poor thing. I don't like thinking about it because I am human after all. I'm feeling sick talking about it…if you don't mind I'm going to move off the subject of Jim. I've had quite enough of that nastiness. Both concerning his family and my own naivety. I can't save the world. I can save anyone.
I'm sure you know who comes up next. You've got the expectant look like you know exactly what's going to happen next. No offense or anything, but fuck you. Am I the one answering the question or are you? That's what I thought.
Angela Bridges, workaholic, pretty, strong, lonely…it's too bad I was such an ass to her. There, I said it. I feel like in some other world we may have even gotten along, and that's not just my emotions talking. But that is neither here nor there. What's done is done, and I can't change it no matter how hard I want to. I acted inappropriately, and I'll admit that kidnap isn't exactly the best way to make someone fall for you, feeling them up after undressing them isn't exactly a stellar either, but I insist that my intentions were not malicious. I simply saw someone who seemed alone like me. I wanted to share my loneliness with her. Maybe in doing that I'd feel less pain. I'd be less lonely.
But of course I wasn't exactly in the proper mood to explain all that to her. It doesn't help that I'm just horrifically awkward and lacking in social niceties, but that is just one of those personal issues that I'm just going to have to work out myself. I'm apologetic for my actions, but it doesn't make me any less angry. Horrible person that I am, I'm angry at her. I hate her for this, and I can't even place my finger on all the reasons why. Yes, there are the obvious reasons her continued existence irks me, but that's not the only reason.
It's full of layers. This situation has so many damn layers…like onions and cake, but far less pleasant than either. I suppose it's just jealousy. I'm jealous of her normalcy. Her ability to continue to function as a member of society while I just can't. She has moved on from this whole incident by now I'm sure, probably with emotional scarring, but she still has the opportunity to be normal. I'll never be normal again, and that's all I ever wanted. And now I'm realizing that I inflicted this upon myself, but god dammit…I'll be damned if I'll allow anyone to say she didn't have some hand in it.
Then of course that leads to me…there's always me…
I'm never going to escape this. It's my curse. Forever doomed to remain in the purgatory of people's memories for this one event in my life. They'll never know who I am or why I acted the way I did. They simply don't care for "crazy fucks" that just snap because "that's just how they are". Acting "the innocent" and denying any sort of responsibility for people like me. That it's just not possible that the way they treat people actually affects those people and that if they don't watch it those people will come back with their teeth bared.
I hate that people call me unfeeling, unmoved. I'm quite the opposite actually. If I didn't care so damn much I wouldn't have let the assholes of the world get to me. I would have been strong and persevered through all this bullshit. But I didn't do that did I? I caved into my feelings and snapped like a fucking twig. Have you ever broken a twig? Yeah, imagine snapping a twig with a bulldozer. It was something like that.
So, yeah, I'm fucking apologetic for certain things. I'm sorry I affected people who I know had nothing to do with why I felt the way I did. But at the same time I can't help but be glad I did something. I'm glad I didn't just stay a speed bump that people would only acknowledge when they had to run it over, completely forgetting that it actually has a valid function. I've come to terms with all that shit. Every last bit of it. I've analyzed it a million times, and I've been nice enough to report my findings more times than I'd like to admit.
But you know what? I'm still unhappy, and I hope you understand me because right about now understanding is the only thing I want, and it's the only thing I've ever wanted.