Confessions of a dead man (Grand finale)

Today ends this series. Thank you so much for reading and commenting- it means a lot to me. Thank you.

If you missed Confessions of a dead man 1, 2, 3 and 4, just click on each one to read.

 

Now to Jay…

Most of the girls in the private University I went to were spoiled. That was not good for me because they either had a lot of self-confidence or they were faking it real good. I wanted someone weak, someone with a low self-esteem whose fear I could feed upon.
The school was choking me so I had to lie to get an exeat for a weekend. It was a hard thing to lie for exeats in my school, because even when you were telling the truth they investigated like the end of the world was near. I called my mother and told her I had to go stay with her younger brother who stayed in the same city where my school was, because I was terribly down with fever. She agreed without hesitation when she heard the way l was sounding- like a dying man. Moreover, my uncle was a pharmacist.
The school called my mother to confirm if she was aware and she gave the go ahead. Immediately, I left the school. There was this club that the boys in my school always talked about- it was a newly opened one and it was close to a brothel. How convenient for me.
My very first murder was on that Saturday. I did not want to do it but I do not regret doing it. I went to the club first before heading for the brothel. I was already tipsy from the drinks I had taken at the club’s amazing bar and needed to vent out my energy somewhere- on someone.
At the brothel I did not meet anyone as l went through the main entrance which I assumed was strange, but did not care about. I walked in, looking from one open room to another, in the hall. I was looking into the third room when a scantily-dressed girl (or lady, I did not care either) walked out of a room far down the hall. She beckoned for me and without hesitance I quickly walked down to her. She pulled me into the room and closed the door, without locking it.
After I was satiated, I asked her if she could do anything for money and she answered in the affirmative. So I told her I wanted to hold her neck while sitting on her on the bed. She agreed on the condition that I would stop when she said so. I also agreed.
That day I knew it was not too easy to take a life via strangulation. She jerked and jerked her naked body under me. She tore at my hands, hips and legs and every part of my body that she could reach with her sharp and long nails. She was trying to say something, or scream, I didn’t really care because according to our agreement, she had to tell me to stop. And she was not telling me anything, she was not talking; just making incoherent sounds. At a point her struggle heightened and I thought she was going to push me off her, but almost immediately, she laid lifeless beneath me.
I had not thought of what I did before doing it and now that the deed was done I was panicky, but this was after I had savoured the joy and satisfaction I got from looking at the work of my hand that night.
I stood and dressed up hastily, with a smile lurking at the corner of my mouth. I took a deep breath and walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind me. When I got to the reception this time there were about three prostitutes sitting and waiting there. One was counting money while the others were talking. I smiled at the one counting money and walked out.
It took me just one month to get over the joy of that kill before I started craving for another one. I knew I could not use the same method I did the last time, I had to wait till school vacated for the semester.
I was so hungry to see someone die that when I got home I was behaving so irrational that my mother got so furious with me. She said all sorts of things ranging from how I was behaving like a child to how she wished I had turned out a little more like my brother who was no more in the country as at that time. I got so angry with her, my father, myself and even my brother who was ignorant of the way I was always been compared to him. If only my mother knew what I was capable of doing, she would not talk to me the way she did. And that her husband, my father, if only he knew too the things my unintelligent hands had done. If only they knew that I was in my hungry state.
Out of anger and great hunger I killed another prostitute in another brothel when we resumed the next semester. It was easier and faster than the last one and the last one had more will to live than this one. I was not as lucky as the last time though because another prostitute walked in on me while I was dressing up after the kill. She just walked out, saying how sorry she was- she thought her colleague was asleep. I had put her to lie on her side after the act. Okay, I could say I was lucky too.
At this time I was already wild and was introduced to weed and cocaine by some boys in my school. It helped me calm down once in a while, but it never replaced the joy of seeing a jerking body go lifeless.
Now I want to tell you how I landed in jail.
After my mates graduated from school I went home with an extra year gist for my parents. As usual my father shouted from Neptune to Neptune. My mother also said how disgraced they were of me. My brother- yes, the same one, also spoke harsh words to me on phone when my father reported me to him.
Then I decided that I had had enough. I did not know the essence of all their talks anyway, it had not made me better in any way.
My father went for my brother’s second degree graduation one time and that was when my mother paid for all their rubbish talks.
I killed her.
Yes I did, slowly and painfully, recounting all the harsh words they said to me every time I came home with my bad results.
I first hit her on the head with the pressing iron, she blacked out. Then while she was out I raped. I then woke her with two live wires that I cut in the cable of the iron. She was already weak, so strangling her was not a big problem even though she still struggled. I will allow you do the imagination yourself.
Well there you have my confession in brief dad. I wrote you this letter to torment you beyond what you did to me while I was alive. And for your information, a copy of this is already in the hands of a press man and you know what that means.
I feel so wicked. But thanks to you father, you made me realise one thing that I could do to make myself happy. Though I must admit you were right when you said I was a failure. See, I couldn’t even get to kill you.
Now tell me if death by hanging is what you would have asked for for me?