Jamies Journal, Dennis H. Gordon [cat reading book TXT] 📗

all

of my memories I know this is real and I’m scared. I don't want to die, but I can't see myself in an insane

asylum wearing a robe and slippers all day while I stagger around like a zombie drooling on myself because of

some drug induced stupor. I'd rather end it now while I still have control, while I still have a choice. I don't

know how long I can keep control and I can't risk losing it. I don’t know how to keep him out. Please know

that I love you all and will miss you with all of my heart. I don't have much time to write this, but everyone

has to know that I didn't kill myself just because I couldn't handle life anymore. But no matter what

happens I think this will be the last time I get to write in my diary. I can feel it, I don't have much time.

There will be no suicide note. It is enough to say that I have no choice. I have to do something to end this.

I want my mother to know that I remember everything now. Everything! 

I remember him now mother. Talking to him in my head. You thought I was crazy. The walls that you had

Doctor Morgan build in my mind when I was nine have been torn down from the other side. The darkness

that those walls were built to contain has been unleashed.  

What have you done mother? How could you do this to me? Why did you ignore the surgeon? You stupid

bitch! He's loose and people are dead! Now I have to die too. I found his trinkets in a shoe box under my

bed. Everything on the list. And then I found the other diary. I'm leaving it here with this one so the truth

is known. It all ends here with my......................  

 

At this point in the entry the handwriting changed and it was believed by law enforcement that this was

the exact moment that the killer attacked Ms. Collins and continued the entry himself. They concluded that

Jamie’s final entry was incoherent rambling due to insurmountable stress. They believed that Jamie had

merely been subdued at this point and was not yet dead.  

 

How touching, but I’m afraid I can’t have that. This most assuredly will not be our final entry. Not when

there’s so much left to do. But make no mistake you will be leaving, However I’m staying right where I am.

One body with two minds has always been a little too crowded for my taste. I need a little extra room to

stretch my legs and.....  

 

At this point the entry seemed to abruptly change and what followed that last incomplete sentence were

several lines of scribbling and indecipherable writing. An independent forensic psychologist who was

consulted by the publishers of this story in relation to these diaries has written "In regards to the final entry

it is clear that a struggle for control was taking place." Law enforcement officials have chosen to ignore this

assessment. It was however universally agreed that the handwriting did not match any of Jamie’s original

entries. 

One final entry was made in the first diary and though there was no date it has been suggested that the

entry was added within days, perhaps hours of the final entry of the Feb 8th. Upon review law enforcement

believed that the killer took her diary as his final trophy and made one last entry in the first journal. Jamie’s

journal. It reads as follows. 

 

When I finally began to snuff out her flame I could hear her. I could hear poor little Jamie screaming inside

my head. Every other time I emerged she held no conscious knowledge or memory of my presence. But

this time I had grown strong enough that I no longer needed to tread lightly. No more tip toeing around

terror, the pain. She could feel herself slipping further and further down into the darkness, sliding

unstoppably into non existence. She did put up a fight though. Oh how she struggled and protested. But

she had no experience. She hadn't spent her entire existence learning to survive in the darkness, huddled

cold and alone in the darkest corners of our mind. It was to be a merciful death compared to the unending

duration of my own agony. At least I didn't exile her to the hellish nightmare limbo she had me in for all

those years. Though I enjoyed hearing her scream a slow intrusive feeling began to bore into my mind. I

almost didn't recognize it. It was empathy. It was an insidious uncomfortable sensation. I did not like it. But

it made me hesitate and then I stopped pushing her down. I think it was happening to me because deep

down I knew that she had no knowledge of my existence and had never deliberately hurt me. I just

couldn't extinguish her flame, after all we are siblings. So for the moment she is still with me. I may keep her

for a while. I think it would be entertaining to feed on her emotions as we go home and I give mommy my

love. I owe her. She's the one who tried to kill me when we were nine. It was her fault that my body died

in the womb. Still a helpless undeveloped fetus. I was absorbed into Jamie. Parts of me are still here. Tiny,

random, unabsorbed pieces of me scattered throughout this body. The largest piece of me is lodged in her

brain. It has been my lifeline, my foothold. The migraines and nose bleeds that I was able to cause with it

were my only joy in life. But I have been reborn. A new life, a new beginning, not in the darkness but

directly in the light. And I will continue to keep a record of my work. But I shall make a new journal for my

new adventure. I will leave my old one here as it is a kind of death for her and a rebirth for me. It is fitting

that they remain together as we have. A new beginning deserves a new location. I have always fantasized

about traveling. I think I'll go to Europe and share my love with the women there. Women all over the

world need to be loved and I will set them free. 

 

 

 

. 

The entries which follow are from the second journal found with the first. One detail that was not released

to the general public was that both journals were bound together by what was later determined by forensic

investigators to be strips of unidentified human skin. Due to the handwriting this second journal was

believed to have been kept by Jamie’s murderer. The following entries may be considered to be too

disturbing by some people.  

Reader discretion is advised.  

 

 

Jan 10th Friday 1997 

 

It’s been so long. So many years of waiting.  

My hunger growing year after year. Tonight I sated that hunger for the first time since I was a child. I had

seen her before, in class, on campus and at the student union. So cute, so innocent. Perfect. She looked

so afraid lying there on my table, her little heart pounding under her perfect little breasts. When I made the first cut right across her abdomen I looked into her eyes. I’m not sure she even felt it. The look in her eyes was like total disbelief, distant and dreamlike. Her entire naked body began to tremble as if she had suddenly gotten very cold. Her skin grew pale and she was going into shock as the blood poured out down her sides onto the table then to the floor.  

A beautiful crimson river. It wasn’t like what you see in the movies. The blood was almost black in the dim light. It looked sticky like honey, as it pooled around her body on the table top. She started this soft moaning just before the end and I smiled. The blood wasn’t pouring out when I made the cut across her throat. With the heart no longer beating things somehow got easier. I got so excited I didn’t pay attention to how long it took for her to take her last breath. I’ll be more attentive next time. I need to make it last. But that moan, so soft and my chest filled to bursting with warmth. I was so happy that she had given that gift to me. Almost as if she knew I wanted it, needed it, and she wanted for me to have it. How thoughtful she was. I think she loved me. God knows I loved her. I will love them all. 

 

 

 

 

Jan 19th Sunday 1997 

It was better this time. Last night was a good night. This one really struggled when she became conscious

and realized she was naked and tied down. She started bucking and jerking furiously. She didn’t know I was

in the room. She tried to scream through the duct tape. The sounds were quite as you would imagine,

guttural and primal. There was anger there hidden among her fear. She exhausted herself pretty quickly.

She was a pretty heavy girl and not in the best shape but still quite beautiful and of coarse I do not

discriminate, it’s one of my better qualities. I enjoyed watching her struggle but didn’t want to drag out her

suffering for some reason. It was turning pathetic and pitiable. I walked up and she saw me. I made the cut

quickly and deeply. This one felt it. She screamed under the tape and she bucked again. When she jerked

like that part of her intestine spilled out, tumbling over the edge of the table and it dangled there dragging

on the floor as it swung gently back and forth. Even though she couldn't see I think she knew something

very bad had just happened because she quickly stopped moving and she let out a pathetic little moan then

stared at me with a look I can not describe but that was very stimulating for me. Our eyes remained locked

and I was actually able to see the light slowly fade in her eyes until it was all gone. She gave me one last full

body jerk and it was over. I took her eyes out. They were her best feature and she wanted for me to have

them.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jan 25th Sat 1997 

This is the one that I had been waiting for. This one was special. Missy. Every day I could see how beautiful

she was and how tortured her soul was inside. She was calling out to me to save her and to love her. But

there was nothing I could do. Mom was trying to make sure that I couldn’t get out this time. Those tired

methods may have worked when I was a kid, but they won’t work now. I’m too strong and there is too

much for me to do. I’m needed after all and I won’t turn away anymore. Still they aren’t making it easy.

They’re doing everything to keep me down. They always have. Then there is all of the hand holding and

fake concern. It makes me want to puke. But I’m patient. I have had to be. So I watch and I wait, biding

my time until the right moment. It was hard pinning my newest conquest down both figuratively and

literally. Ha, I do have a great sense of humor, the ladies like that about me. 

But once I knew when she would be alone everything fell into place. I think I loaded the syringe a little too

much and it took her a while to come around. I’m not even sure she knew where she was or what was

happening for the first five or ten minutes. She seemed so lethargic, but when I started removing her knee

caps she did have a stream of tears flowing down her pale face and that was nice. I’m ashamed of what

happened next. I started getting frustrated at her lack of participation in what should’ve been a perfect

experience for the both of us. When she failed to show the appropriate reactions when I cut her Achilles

tendons I lost my temper and jammed a screw driver through her right eye killing her instantly. I know it

was childish and it just ruined everything. I just have to learn patience in these