Six months I have sat and rotted in this hellhole. Wasting away with nothing to do but twist and turn in my misery and the stench and filth of this place. Six months I have had nothing to do but plan my revenge, my escape. Several of the fathers from my earlier dalliances have been placed in the same correctional facility as myself. I see them in here trying to act like good men, reformed men, men on the straight and narrow path. But I know better, my olfactory system can still smell the stench of sin on them, along with every other foul-mouthed chump that is in here. I know the souls of those fathers better than God. I have seen the excitement in their eyes, the ideas of torture that were collective and spawned from the brains of these fake good men. Watched them rape a daughter of a man they stood beside after and still called friend. Most of them stood at their trials and repented their sins, told the sob story of manipulation and how I blackmailed them into helping. Feared for their lives so much they were willing to sacrifice their own children and the children of the fathers around them. The women pretended to be clueless to what was happening. And no evidence could ever be found to contradict that fact, but they were just as guilty. Well guilty of being ignorant anyhow. My dear friend James York our lawyer he is in here, but not fairing so well. He was the only brave man to stand up beside me in court and not bow down to peer pressure. Being a lawyer he seems to be responsible for some of the other inmates time in here as well. He has taken a knife to the abdomen twice already. He is to spend the rest of his sentence in solitary confinement to keep him safer. So now the rest of his days are in an even smaller cell. Never getting to socialise with the rest of these clueless hair brains. The only ally I have in here, but perhaps not the only friend. I see the rest of the fathers gathering together all avoiding me. Makes their stance on manipulation and blackmail more convincing. All of them hoping for the chance of an appeal. What sad pathetic men. Not brave enough to chance what I am planning. How I regret ever involving them in my game of cat and mouse with that Detective. But all the same I feel them watching me, plotting, making plans of their own for revenge; they seek to end my life. But it will be me that sews the seeds of revenge first. I will have my chance to destroy her, and this time she will not get off so easily.
I will plan the perfect game to draw her in. The case will cause no need for her to puzzle, riddle or ponder and solve. The chase is all there is. My escape and the hunt will begin. I will really prove who is smarter. There will be no wondering who is responsible for the next acts that I must commit. It will be as though written in black and white, or rather blood red. And I will address them all to my dear sweet Jane. Like sick, sweet little love notes. From the first day Jane and I met, when she wrote me off as a pathetic low life, it has been fate. It has been written in the stars that we are destined to be together. All I need to do is prove I am worthy, that I am smarter. I will best her in her own game. I will leave her clues on the bodies of my victims so she will be able to find me. And when she comes, which she will, I will have her. I will reap her soul, I will make her bleed and scream for me and then I will watch the life drain out of her eyes and then I will know she is mine… FOREVER.
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