Diary of a Madman – August 12th
**Author’s notes: This is the seventh piece, the first is found here
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I can feel it calling.
I drove by Julie’s house and noticed a suspicious car parked across the street. I knew for a fact that the Martin’s didn’t own a similar car. They owned a ’76 Silverado.
So I kept driving and I found a nice hidden place to park and then I walked.
I was desperate. I could not keep the cops from stopping me tonight. She needed to die tonight, Diary. I wasn’t prepared to use my backup plan but I had no other choice. I walked through a 10 acre yard in the moonlight carrying a filled gas can. The grass was wet and I was leaving footprints. It didn’t matter, she has to die.
I broke in through the back door and crept in. The living room window was wide open. It left a perfect view of the staircase leading up to the bedroom on the second floor. The cop outside should be able to see anyone enter her bedroom.
It didn’t matter. I poured gasoline throughout the back of the house and lit a match.
I ran, and I ran, until I passed out.
I don’t know how long I was out. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes. I tasted the wet grass and felt the mud on my face.
I got up and ran. The house was fully lit. Huge clouds flew over my head. I got to my car and got out of there fast. I was coughing and my head pounded but I got away.
I’m tired. Goodnight Diary.
I woke up exhausted. My whole body hurts but my face hurts the most. I looked in the mirror and I noticed I have a slight bruise on my cheek. I looked a little banged up.
After a quick soothing bath, I made a trip downstairs for the mail. I got this very disturbing piece of mail. It was from me. It was written on a piece of you, Diary.
I read the newspaper and watched the news. Turns out the fire destroyed the house. The media was tearing a new one into the police. They claimed they could have done more to save young Julie. They don’t understand how something like this could happen with police parked outside.
I stole her work name tag on the way out. I decided to toss it out along with all the other pieces I stole, except you, Diary. It’s not worth the risk. These little mementos are just going to get me caught and we can’t have that.
From a torn page of Todd Casil’s Diary
I don’t mean to get you caught. I plan on killing you. I plan on killing us.