Don't Trust Him

 I wasn't always like this. I grew up normal, I went to a normal school, got a job as a secretary, married a beautiful girl, but it never felt right. It was boring. Overwhelmingly boring. I got up every day the same time, went to work, came home to my wife. Everyday it was the same routine, day in and day out. Spontaneity was what kept me alive, kept me going, and in this life, there was none of it. Not even a drop.
    Then, he came into my life. He was very charming and charismatic, and even a little bit flirtatious. Of course, I never complied, I was a married woman after all. Despite his advances, we became fast friends, and we often went to lunch together. He was extremely caring, and despite my marital status I became giddy every time he was near. He took me to nice restaurants, and random shopping sprees while on our lunch.
   Though even they were becoming routine. I was no longer excited to see him. We ran out of ideas to talk about. I started avoiding him, he had nothing of use anymore. A few months went by, and I was festering and desperate for an itch of excitement. Apparently my old friend could tell, he cornered me one day after work, asking to get dinner. I knew I should have said no, my wife was waiting for me, but I couldn't say no to him. I never could.
We went to a nice restaurant at the edge of town. After we ordered he struck up a conversation, “Why have you been avoiding me?” I blinked in surprise. 
   “I haven't been avoiding you,” I said.
   “Likely story, you have not spoken to me in weeks. I want to know why.” 
   I hesitated, “I have trouble keeping friends.” 
  He nodded understandingly, “Because you get bored.” 
  “What? No, of course not!” He held up his hand before I could go on. 
  “You can be honest with me, I know you. You get bored easily.” He smirked. “I can help with that.” 
   “What do you mean?” 
   “Simple, I give you ways you could free yourself of boredom. Ways you could never imagine.” 
  I nodded slightly, inclining him to continue. I wish he hadn’t. What he said that dau still haunts me. They were horrible, grotesque and he explained them with such detail, that I almost threw up in the middle of the restaurant. It was modern torture. Waterboarding felines, dismembering lizards, it only went up from there. He was suggesting that I become a serial killer, and as disgusting as it was..I was intrigued. Looking back on it, I could have sworn that his eyes flashed a dark red for a moment.
    I stopped talking to him immediately after that incident. I started spending my lunches at home, and soon after we adopted a baby named Caleb. At the time, he was the best thing that ever happened to me. But the crying. The non stop crying drove me to the brink of insanity. Every time I came home, he was crying, but, of course my wife could calm him down, but I never could. At times I wanted to put him back up for adoption. I never brought it up though, abandoning Caleb wasn't an option for her.
    The more he cried, the more I thought about what the man said. The thoughts made me sick at first, but the longer I thought about them the more appealing it became. The thought of wringing that chubby little freaks neck and watching as the life drains out of his ugly face. It took three weeks, then the man showed up again. He apologized for his previous behavior, but I interrupted him and begged him to tell me more. More ideas to kill that brat and not get caught. His eyes flashed red and he complied.
  When I came home that night, this night, my wife was not yet home and, of course, that baby was crying. I tried to calm him down, bloc him out, anything. He. Would. Not. Stop. For two hours I sat there, eye twitching, fists clenching. I couldn't handle it. I had had enough, I grabbed nearby scissors and headed to the room, slicing his throat. There was only one noise to be heard, a scream. My wife’s scream. Before I could stop myself, the bloodlust took over. My Elizabeth, my beautiful love of my life painted the walls with her blood and guts. I kept slashing and slashing, I just couldn't stop. The walls are leaking with the life blood of my reason to live. There is no point now is there.
  I hear the sirens in the distance. My time is running out, my life is coming to an end. To the police and anyone reading this letter: don't trust him. The man with the red eyes and black suit. Crowley. Don't let him pull you into his trap, you'll never get out. I pray to the Lord in heaven, that he will forgive me for this grotesque act. Lord, it wasn't my fault. That man, that horrible man. He's to blame. They say death is painful, but I disagree. As the remnants of my soul drain out of my wrists, the only pain I feel is guilt. They're breaking down the door. My life remains useful no more. Elizabeth, I'm sorry.