I tried killing someone the other day...

An entry a year later. Happy 2011.
Taken from www.gurodate.com


We'd been drinking. Typically, I can take a lot of alcohol, and I'd thought all night me and Kyle were going at the same pace...I'm usually the one twisted out of my mind; but for some reason, tonight was different.
I don't know when it'd happen exactly, I just knew my mind had suddenly woke up and I knew what I was doing - that's what it felt like at least.
At this point we're tired, man had shuffled off into another room, and I happened to be in the hallway just as I heard the door opening.
Oh, right. I live with my mother.
I wasn't worried at all though, even though I should've been shitfaced right then and there, I somehow sobered up and knew I could talk to her smoothly. Old enough to drink but not old enough to get my own place, I'd have to play nice in front of her.
Imagine me, ready for it.
Standing straight, fixing up my hair, not teetering or slurring when I speak, ready to say "Oh, hey, Mom. What's up?" Like any other day.
But when she did finally open the door, there wasn't time for that. As soon as she saw me, she screamed - yelled, face going from shock to anger, to concern. "What happened?!" She had said.
I was confused. Did I put my clothes on inside out? Did I spill liquor all over my shirt? What was the problem? I was sure I didn't look drunk at all. Except for being dumbfounded, which I was.
"...What...Happened? What are you talking about? What's up?"
"Your Face! What happened?! Where's Kyle?!" She said.
My face? Why was it I didn't remember? I had to move away and slide into the bathroom.
I was standing there in the dark expecting nothing until I flipped the switch and the lights revealed it all.
Shock and fear. The same as my mother.
But there was then a different expression, one that she didn't show upon seeing my face.
How would I describe it?
Awe. Fascination.
Unless I was in a mood, I never found myself particularly beautiful or ugly to stare at myself in the mirror too long. Never cared enough how I looked, not in years. But at this moment I nearly felt myself press my face up onto the mirror as if I were a kid looking in a tank at the zoo for the first time.
So that's where that smell was coming from. The smell of blood. How did I not notice before? Red and distinctive, all over my face.
I'd been staring so long, until I noticed it was all over my shirt, too.
Shit.
Yeah I'd been drinking, but I wasn't drunk. Suddenly all the memories flushed back. I know i'd been awake, but seeing myself now was like snapping my head back into reality. And just as it was all coming back to me, so was the mess.
Maybe I had thought I was dreaming, and it felt like I was, but I let my eyes travel away from my own intriguing reflection to look at the floor. Splatter. Red splatter, all over the toilet, all over the floor tiles. I heard my mom walking, two seconds had passed since she came home and there was no time.
I reached under the sink and grabbed the sponge. The blood was fresh, so it cleaned easy. It didn't take me long at all, I just didn't want to have to explain. And when the bathroom was sparkly white again, I ran back out into the hallway to get the blood that trailed along the walls, too. I'd remember that. I'd chase the path all the way to my room. I looked up for a second. Oh there Kyle was. He was passed out in the farthest corner of the room on the other side of my bed. I wonder if he remembered everything that I just did. "Kyle?" I called out, knowing he'd answer back. He wasn't dead -- I knew that. I knew it because I had just been obsessing about making him that way.
A confused groan was enough of a response, but as I'd just got the last of the evidence my mother finally had made her way over and approached me. "What the hell happened? Did he beat you again?"
I shook my head. He hadn't touched me - not this time. I almost smiled, but I had to act casual -- with all the excitement, looking back, I should of thought of a better excuse. "No, I fell."
She asks me again.
"...I fell."
and she'd ask me ten minutes later too, testing me, to see if I was intoxicated still. "No, I fell. I had like one beer, but Kyle - he's had a bit much. He's laying down."

Seems like she couldn't get anything else out of me. I wasn't going to slip up. Even though I wanted to shout out my joy at the top of my lungs, I had to stick with 'falling'. How lame -- I should of thought of something better, for sure.
At least she's gone now.
I return to my room, take a glance at the other various objects laying around from tonight's event. Where was the wooden paddle? Right, I stuck it next to the toilet. I'll get it in a second. For now, I'm too curious.
I move over to Kyle's exhausted form laying on the floor in the corner.
I bend down and I pet his head, to comfort. To pretend it was all just drunken madness. "You okay? Do you remember anything?"
"No...What happened."
Finally I can say it aloud - I hold back from smiling. "I tried to kill you."
He laughs. "What?", he says.
"You don't remember?" And then I proceed to tell him what happened, the safe version - the one he wouldn't get offended by.
---
Drunken madness. Kyle's whining about something, and I try to remain lighthearted, but I feel the anger growing inside of me.
"You're complaining? You want to die? I could kill you."
He's crying, sobbing, being drunk and looking like an idiot, babbling about how he doesn't want to live anymore.
Maybe its because I'm feeling tipsy, but listening to him, rather than feeling concerned, I begin to feel excited. He sounds like a lost child. I feel like I can help him. Save him.
"No really, I can do it."
He's laughing now, hysterical, really.
I'm not sure he heard me, so I move over to him and I punch him in the face.
He looks confused, but he's still laughing anyway. The alcohol must have him nice and sedated for me. The anger from the night he beat me returns, except this time, I'm not the one who's looking up. I'm looking down, and since he didn't stop me, I hit him again, harder this time. I laugh out loud.
Kyle stops laughing this time around.
"No, it's okay. Listen, I'll probably kill myself afterward anyway..." I'm lying, but I say it with such truth. I really have no intention on killing myself, but for now; I'd say anything to get what I want out of him. I need him to feel safe. "It's all right...We'll do it together."
When I hit him this time, he falls off of the bed and tries to move away from me, but I won't let him get away. I go after him and hit him as hard as I can, as much as I can. He struggles, he seems confused and drunk yet I slowly feel all the influence of alcohol fading away. I feel alert.
"You said you wanted to die, right?" I really believed him. And I really believe I'm the one who can help him. I exit the room to grab that wooden paddle I have in the basement. I've known its there all this time but never thought to grab it. Never needed to. Not this time - this time, it'd be perfect.
When I return, Kyle glances up at me but I don't say anything. I just slam that hunk of wood right into his face. I'm laughing as I beat him with it, and I feel like I'm having a lot of fun. I think the laughing makes him think its all a big joke, but I suppose the pain is beginning to make him feel like he needs to get away from me. "Why are you running? It's okay. I'll help you."
I really don't care what he thinks I'm doing anymore. I know it's because I'm drunk I can act so openly, but I know it's not because I'm drunk that I'm deciding to do these things.
The beatings are a lot of fun, but it's not efficient. He's still alive, albeit he seems tired and worn out. Good. I like this. I don't know if it's because he's hurting so bad or because he's drunk, but at least he's more placid. He won't be able to run now.
I grab the thick scarf from my door and I fix it into a slipknot. A fancy, pretty noose. I admire it only for seconds before slinging it around his neck. I get behind him, rest his head on my lap so I can watch everything from above -- and I pull.
He still doesn't seem to realize what's going on for awhile, and his face turns purple as he looks up at me with shot eyes, glistening and trying to endure. Trying to accept death. I admire him for that, I could even say I loved him for trying. Then the real part of him, the part I hardly like at all, jerks his entire body to life and he tries to grip at the hold around his neck, choking, gagging. I'm not sure what he's saying, but I think he's telling me he's changed his mind.
All the fun could have left right then and there - I felt the color drain from my face. He -can't- change his mind. Not when he's got me all hot and bothered. Everything was getting good. I try to reason with him. "What? No. You said you wanted to die. You said you can't take it anymore, that you're going to die anyway right -- Stop thrashing so much! Just a little bit farther..."
But he doesn't stop thrashing, so I stand up and hold the end of the noose with one hand. I grab the wood and try and hit him unconscious so he stops ruining all the fun. I never thought, only dreamed I could be in this situation. It's actually become a reality. No plans, no preparation. Just pure chaos embodied in this moment, setting everything off balance. Tonight was going to be fun, drinks and what not, right? Yeah. But I never thought it could come to this. And I loved it. I wasn't thinking about consequences. I just had my mind set on one thing, one mission, and I wasn't going to stop until it was complete.
He's really choking now, really shaking, and he's yelling and gurgling at me incoherently. I can't stand it - it's messing up my vision. I don't know how it was supposed to be, but he was ruining it.
I release him. This won't do at all.
I walk over to the kitchen and go through the drawers. Somehow, all the knives are gone. Except one, the perfect one. This was it, I knew it as I held it in my hand. I liked holding it. As I was walking back to my room I see Kyle has managed to escape to the bathroom. I hear him throwing up bile, maybe liquor, but definitely blood. Oddly enough, I didn't notice he was bleeding - I wouldn't notice until later when my mother comes home. I don't care right now. When he's done, I'm going to approach him and show him the answer to all our problems.
--- something I don't remember ---
He's kicking his legs again. I've got the noose around him because he managed to change his mind and tell me he wants to die again, but not by knife. He'd prefer the strangling. Yet now here we are again, and he won't cooperate. It pisses me off he won't comply. If it'd been any other time, any other way, I probably wouldn't care. But not this night, this night I needed him to know what I was doing to him. I needed him to understand that I was in control of his life. But the idiot won't stop struggling. I'm pissed off and dragging him along the floor into the hallway to get him back into my room. I don't notice then that his bloodied face and hands running along the walls will cause a mess for me to clean up later, but I will soon.
I'm really fed up with him.
---- something I don't remember ---
I'm standing over the sink with the knife. I told him I'd kill myself, but he won't believe me. That's okay. I can probably make wisely placed incisions just to scare him. Then maybe he'll believe that he won't die alone. I cut my wrist a few times. The knife is really dull, it's thick, it hurts, but I don't care.
I really hate when people say things they don't actually mean. My little trick has the opposite effect and Kyle suddenly wants to stop me all together. I'm thinking to myself, I'm not going to kill myself you idiot -- you're just so scared. I was trying to show you. But he wrestles the knife out of grasp. My blood dirties his face. I don't even notice, I only did it to entrap him. It didn't work...damn it all. I feel too sober, too. I felt so high just a second ago, everything was going according to plan...
--- something I don't remember ---

Things have calmed down now. I beat him more and now he lays still. Perfect. I'm feeling tired too, and I'm feeling sober. Yet I'm high on something else. My better judgment is making me hesitate, when I was so sure before...
There is only the sound of crying and heavy panting. We may both be exhausted, but I'm still determined...I still have to make it happen. I grab the pillow nearby and slide over to Kyle, to comfort him. I am comforting him, this is what I lie about when I shove the pillow gently, hovering over his face. He trusts me.
That's what I was waiting for.
I slam the pillow down over his face to smother him with aggression and vigor. My energy returns to me.
I think briefly back long ago when I tried to smother Michael. Don't know why I even did that back then. But since then, I'd never tried anything like this.
Tonight was way better than that little blip in my history. Tonight would be memorable, I'm sure of it.
He tries to struggle again, but he's weaker now and can hardly move. He's probably telling me he's changed his mind again, but the great thing about this time is that, I can't hear him. I shove harder. I look at the wriggling form beneath the pillow and imagine a transformation - a transformation of which, when I remove the pillow; will be complete. Still. Peaceful. Dead.
I shove harder and harder to help him accept it, knowing he feels alone and I comfort him, calling to him lovingly to trust me on this one. Just this once. This was all it would take.
I hear the door opening and the dogs running.
Oh, right. My mother has returned from work...I have to look presentable, and I move quickly to greet her at the doorway.