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Challenge
Twisted POV
Most horror stories are told in the point of view of the receiving end, from a victim, relative, hero, etc. Pretty rarely do stories happen from the point of view of the villain, anagonist, killer, you get the gist. Write a short story or poem with this point of view, and make it twisted. This can be a version of a story widely known or based on your own story.

Addicted.

Yes. You are right. I am a killer. And I, like my victims, deserve to die... at least in my opinion.But my view isn't objective and neither is yours or anyone else's. It's a view, and there are different views, thousands, sometimes. However, there are times when only one point of view is relevant.

We all have an addiction. For some, it's coffee and for others, it's alcohol. Some can handle their addiction, some don't even know their addiction and others are surrounded by their addictions on a daily basis, which makes it hard to resist. Imagine it being like sugar. If you were addicted to sugar, could you stop? Sugar is almost in every product you consume. And now imagine that you can smell that sugar wherever you go. It would drive you crazy, wouldn't it? And now imagine the sugar saying stupid things that don't even make sense, and all you can think is "shut up."At least that's what I think about right now.

The guy standing in front of me had no idea what he was talking about. And when I look around, I see that everyone else knows. But he is the boss's son and, apparently, that gives him the right to waste our time. Well, maybe after tonight, he will think twice about the time he is wasting. If he had the ability to waste anyone's time after tonight...Or if he could think. I wish I could kill him right now. My hands began to shake, and it took all of my energy and focus not to kill him right now. Not to cut his throat.

When I looked away, I saw her. She was beautiful, but that wasn't why I admired her. You can see the brilliance in her eyes. And all my senses were calmed when I smelled her perfume in the air. For a moment, I forgot my wish to kill the people in this room and I focused only on her. Nobody had ever done anything like what she had done for me. It was simple, but beautiful. A small gesture that meant everything to me.

For a moment, I wish we could be two people who are driving around at midnight, going out for a snack or driving into the woods on the weekends. But that will never happen. She would never want to be with me.