Dear Diary

**Please note, this story is filled with sensitive subjects, trigger warning for sexual violence, mental health concerns, deviant behavior, substance abuse, and physical violence, gore, and corporal abuse, proceed with caution**

Dear Diary:

Today work was very pleasant. I was able to keep my hair tightly pinned up with the use of one less hair pin. I used it to get into the apartment three doors down.

You remember, the man who grabbed my ass in the hallway? The one who told me he wanted to ravage me right there? Him, yes. It made me violently ill at the thought of him having his way with me.

So I let myself into his apartment. He was still sleeping and roused as I let my fingers stroke his bare chest.

He was excited instantly, his small cock grew hard with my touch. He asked me how I got in. I just smiled at him. He realized I was wearing gloves then and tried to jerk himself up from his bed.

I shoved him back and injected him with something to help him relax. His eyes became watery. I watched as the fight left him and he laid back on his pillows.

The clear silicone mask I was wearing has bright pink lipstick painted over the lips. The eyebrows are painted high and dark above the cut outs for the eyes.

He was confused, he called out the name Angela. She wasn’t there though, it was only me.

The surgical gowns I bought for this occasion worked perfectly. I was covered in protective clothing from head to toe. Nothing would betray me while I ravaged him.

I had my way with this man, although I don’t see him as a man now. I left him sprawled out and spent in his bed and made my way out, locking his door behind me. Taking all evidence of my presence with me.

I slipped back into my apartment, unnoticed by anyone in the building. That’s the advantage of having insomnia. I can move freely pretty much anywhere I want to go at any time of day or night.

I have to remember to take flowers to father’s gravesite this week. It’s the anniversary of his passing. I hope Sargent Griffin doesn’t bother me again this time. I am getting sick and tired of his constant harassment. I hate that he follows me through the cemetery, not giving me privacy to talk to my father.

Mother is still doing well. She is alive but still in a vegetable state. I should have helped her when she got hurt.

Well, that’s all for today. I do have my eye on the new guy at work. I will keep you posted on him.

Dear Diary:

After work, I went to see mother today. The doctor’s say she has pneumonia. I gave them permission to administer antibiotics and breathing treatments.

I don’t know why she is still hanging on. Father is dead, her house burned down and she has nothing left but me.

I met the new guy at work. His name is Hank. His hands are nice, large and smooth. His hair is longer than I prefer but it has potential. I can always trim it up for him.

I had to get new shoes today. The concrete ruined the last ones. I will figure it out though. Maybe if I use a mold to make a foot to keep them evenly worn it will make a difference. I will try it.

I went across town tonight. I wore my new blonde wig and went to that bar I wrote about before. The one with the pool tables where the truckers like to hang out.

There was a guy there, he came up to me while I was ordering and pushed his cock into my back. Asked me if I wanted to have a good time.

I let him take me back to his room. He said he doesn’t usually get a room since he has a sleeper cab on his truck, but he wanted to shower and sleep in a real bed.

I had my bag, it contains everything I need except for the shoes. I changed and came out to find him doing a line of coke on the table.

His eyes were wild as he lunged toward me. When he saw me dressed in my surgical gown, he pulled back.

He had the nerve to ask me what this was all about. I laughed in his face. I pulled out my special coke and told him I didn’t want to get it on me. He cut it on the table and did the first line. I stood and watched him.

His eyes rolled back in his head when I touched him. I love when they do that. He was sprawled out on the floor when I was done with him.

I cleaned up the coke from the table. Double checked to be sure I got everything and closed the locked door behind me. Once under the stairwell, I took off the wig and shoved it in my bag and I ran.

I ran the whole two blocks home. I have the second in my collection now. This time my experiments will work. I am sure of it.

That’s all for today, I have a date with Hank on Friday. More to come later.

Dear Diary:

I think I have a problem. I am insatiable these days. I don’t know how to satisfy my hunger. Doctor Hamill says I am normal, that this is normal.

I know he is wrong. He is distracted by his pending divorce. For a doctor, he sure doesn’t know how to focus.

I bought a new wig today, it’s a pixie cut brunette one. I have to say, I look quite good in it. I think it suits me better than my mousy brown hair does. I also finished my new gloves. They are a bit baggy but I like them.

I feel inspired to buy a new wardrobe too. An English Professor’s look sounds good to me. Tweed overcoat and some dress shoes. Of course they will have to fit over my bulk, it won’t be cheap.

One more day and I will be out with Hank. It’s a shame to use him up and throw him away like the others. What other choice do I have though?

Maybe I will keep him for a while. They always want to be kept longer than a night. I will have to see how his hands feel before I decide.

Mother’s doctor called today, they are moving her to the ICU because her breathing is worse. I don’t know what they want me to do or say, I really don’t think I care.

That’s all for today.

Dear Diary:

Work was good today. Tomorrow I have the day off. Susan wanted to switch schedules so I offered to switch with her. It will make prep day easier on me.

Two days to go before my date with Hank. I have to say, I am a little nervous about it. We have been talking at work, he isn’t the kind of man I thought he was at first. I may have to rethink my plan for him. We will have to see.

This morning, the police came to the apartment three doors down. He was discovered dead, all splayed out in his bed.

A bloody mess, Mrs. Carmichael said. She is the neighbor that lives next to him.

I asked if they had any idea who could have done this. She said the police think it was a man dressed as a woman. There were man sized shoe prints left behind in his blood.

I asked if we are all in danger, but she said the police wouldn’t say. I told her I would call the police department and get back to her with what they tell me.

This afternoon, I called the police station. They said there will be extra patrol in and outside of the building. They also said that he was the first victim who has been killed like that, they think he was the only intended target.

I asked what they meant by that. The policeman gulped hard before he told me. He said the man’s penis was cut off, shoved down his throat and his hands were skinned beginning at the wrist.

I told him I thought it was odd, we live in a peaceful building. He said that he thought it was someone my neighbor knew, or possibly a sex worker. There were no signs of a break-in or robbery so they were unsure at this point. They don’t believe anyone else is in danger though.

I got home from work this evening and knocked on Mrs. Carmichael’s door. No answer, so I left her a note about what the police said.

Mrs. Carmichael looks like Phyllis Diller. Her white blonde hair stands on end like she was electrocuted. She isn’t as funny though.

Dinner is scrambled eggs tonight. It’s ironic that I would eat eggs the same day the man down the hall… well, ate his own penis.

That’s all for now, I sense a headache coming on. I should probably take a pill but I hate the way it makes my face feel flushed. Maybe I will go out and have a drink tonight. More tomorrow.

Dear Diary,

Today I am writing from a new venue. I am sitting in someone else's apartment watching the police search for a killer. If they would just look at me, they would know what I do. I am the one they're looking for. But I am so 'non descript' that I doubt I will ever be on their radar. I wonder what they would do if I confessed. Would they blow me off, you think? Who knows. I may try it one day, just to see what happens.

Mrs. Carmichael has been at her sisters for a few days. She called me from there, she got spooked about the murder next door to her so she is staying away until they catch the killer. I tried to assure her that she would be safe but, she wasn't convinced. I can definitely see from a better vantage point in her dining room window. I hope she stays away for a while so I can use this to my advantage.

More tomorrow.

Dear Diary,

You will never guess where I am. You will laugh, but I want you to know that I did it. I went to the police station and confessed. They laughed at me, until I gave them solid proof that it was me.

I brought the knife with me that I used on the neighbor. Now, I am sitting in jail. They haven't set a bond for me so I will be here a while. I will keep writing though, if they let me have a pen and paper again. I am writing this on my confessional pages. I have nothing more to say right now, maybe later they will let me write some more. We shall see. Thanks for listening Dear Diary, it has been a swell time.