Dominatus Desideria

She was the genesis of my evolution.

The whore was inconsequential. Her death was not. There were so many possibilities that I’d never considered before. Killing her was greater than the simple fulfillment of a need. It was infinitely enjoyable. It was a learning experience—a study of the limits of human physiology, both hers and mine. And it had been financially rewarding, which was a pleasant, if unexpected, bonus.

But I had lost control, which I innately understood could not continue. I had left potential evidence at the scene. Though I was reasonably confident my semen hadn’t survived the inferno the motel room had become, it had still been an unnecessary risk. I might have been seen coming or going from the hotel room. It was sloppy. Stupid. Dangerous.

For days after, I felt something that I hadn’t since childhood—apprehension. It was wasted on the ineptitude of idiots. The investigation was brief, and the slut took the blame for burning down the motel as planned. She was the only one to have died that evening, and no one was in any great hurry to defend a hooker’s honor. I was safe, but realized if I could not learn to master my desires it would only be a matter of time before I was caught. That was not an acceptable outcome. There was, and still is, far too much at stake.

From that point on, I learned to evaluate not only what I was doing, but why. I forced myself to exert restraint over my behaviors, even when it seemed they were critical to my fulfillment. I found ways to randomize my victims and methods. I experimented, with mixed results. At times, I denied myself entirely, forcing myself to forego even the most insatiable of my appetites. I changed. I learned. I became. Soon the challenge of killing in new ways evolved my motivation—each victim an opportunity to rediscover and reinvent myself. The unmaking of the Non is now just as much my release as theirs, though admittedly in very different manners of speaking. I am kept as sharp as my blades by the perpetual whetting of power, intuition, and control.

It is much more satisfying to let chance choose my prey and determine the manner by which I bestow them to the Else. It requires me to discern their thoughts, sense their intentions, anticipate and manipulate their actions. I must know them. It allows me to experience human nature without ever being a part of it, removed like a merciless God commanding pieces in a game of magnificent carnage. I can allow the universe to choose and be the executioner of its every whim.

But there has always been a greater purpose. A waiting destiny.

And now it’s time to fulfill it.

I’m coming, Nicholas.