S.T. Abby

The superior man is aware of righteousness; the inferior man is aware of advantage.

—Confucius

To see and listen to the wicked is already the beginning of wickedness.

—Confucius

The superior man is modest in his speech, but exceeds in his actions.

—Confucius

I jog upstairs, head into my secret room, and touch the apple on my desk. It’s a wax apple, brilliantly red, and there are seven nails sticking out of it. Still many more to go.

There’s a certain high you get from fooling the world into thinking you’re the lamb instead of the rabid wolf.

I feel more human with each passing day. Less like a soulless monster with a thirst for blood.
Not that I want to stop killing; I just want to feel more like the carefree, happy girl I was before they stole it all. Before they ruined me.

A serial killer sharing a house with a homicide detective and a FBI agent.
Life doesn’t get more complicated than this.

It’s sad that I want to hide my bodies now so that my boyfriend gets a break and can spend more time with me.

they’re looking for a monster.
Not a girl who loves red.
Not a girl who is falling in love.
Not a girl who died ten years ago.

Where they die, a nail gets taken.

His nail will go beside the others, finding a home with other perverted sons of bitches.