 The first thing you need to know about me is that I'm a serial killer. The second thing you need to know about me is that I'm a sociopath. So when I say I'm a bad person, it shouldn't really surprise you at all. Because it's probably the only true thing I'll ever say. But what if I told you there's something worse out there than people like me? Something so evil it knows how to hide in plain sight? I'm just a person, and if you're careful enough, you can avoid me. But where do you run when the thing that hunts you is the thing you rely on most? The thing that keeps you alive? Let me backtrack a bit. The second time I was let out of prison, it was on a sheer technicality. I had dismembered a man for cutting me off in traffic, left his body in an alley for the rats. By the time they found him, he had no face left, but they found him sooner than I planned. There was enough DNA to catch me. But because evidence was tampered with too much by the rats, it had to eventually be thrown out, despite it seeming like an open and shut case. My lawyer, the biggest slime ball I could find to represent me, took it up with a judge and hey presto, I was out. The thing is, I hunted him. I hunt all my prey, stalk them through the cities, learn their routines. I wait for them to make some slight, some mildly insulting error against me. And that's what makes them my target. I have killed close to 80 people, and I've got away with it. This is because murder is my craft. The longer it's practiced, well the better you get at it. I don't have a backstory of abuse. I don't have any trauma that made me this way. I was simply born an evil son of a bitch. And I really, really don't care to justify myself. This world is a trash heap, and I'm simply making the best of it by doing what I enjoy most. Anyway, I digress. One of the cautions the judge did give me was to join a support group for ex-felons as this is my second time being out of prison. I rolled my eyes at the time and said yes, but only because I really, really wanted to get out. I hadn't killed in over a month, and the withdrawal symptoms were making my hands shake. Look, I went because I was bored. I knew I was being watched, so I didn't do anything outwardly out of my routine. I had to keep pretending I was a boring checkout clerk at a grocery. This was a big city, and crimes happen all the time. So the police department is understaffed and struggling with corruption. It's a win-win situation for those of us that like to kill, maim, or otherwise hurt. The moment I entered that place, I made my first mistake. I rolled my eyes because I thought it was full of exactly the kind of people that would make excuses, think their actions were out of moral high ground, and try to excuse the despicable things they did. I hurt people because I've been hurt, or I just did it in a moment of anger. I'm really not like that, I swear. Please. We are all evil assholes. I'm just the only one who doesn't lie to myself about it. It was a big room, possibly an auditorium, wooden floors, a stage, that kind of thing. If you can picture a school's assembly room or hall, this is probably what it looked like. The guy leading us was a picture of moral superiority. He wore glasses, a suit, and carried a clipboard. He had that weird vibe about him that someone in power gets when they aren't used to it. He cleared his throat and took attendance. Like we were in the seventh grade, I caught some of the others rolling their eyes. When he'd hit the last name, he drew a deep breath, then began, right? So I thought we could go one by one and introduce ourselves, and name the thing that brought us here. No one said anything. He let out a little irritating squeak from his nose at this. Fine. I'll choose, then, Jonathan. The guy named Jonathan, an olive-skinned, dark-eyed, brooding man with a black hoodie looked up in annoyance. Judge brought me here. He grunted. A few Snickers greeted us. Clipboard wasn't having it, though. Why were you before a judge? He glared at Clipboard. I killed my wife. And this is where things got weird. Clipboard grinned widely and began to clap. The seven out of the dozen joined him. The other five of us sat in confused silence. Excellent. And what did you do to her? There was a look in Clipboard's eyes that was making me uncomfortable. And let me remind you, I'm a sociopath. I don't get uncomfortable. There was silence for a second, and then Jonathan continued. The disgruntled look, gone. I used a butcher's knife, and I stabbed her twenty-one times. Give me more detail. Clipboard was salivating, and unless looks were deceiving me, his face was turning before my eyes into something grotesque. I, what the hell is this? I'm not doing this. I'm out of here. Jonathan stood up and stormed to the closest door. But before he could get there, the door slammed and locked. He tried to walk to another door. That one slammed and locked, too. The five of us who'd not clapped, Jonathan included, sat in shock, dazed. But for some reason, none of us tried to move. I tried to lift my legs, but I was rooted to the spot. Let me introduce myself now that I have your attention. He said clipboard smoothly, his eyes twinkling at our discomfort. I am Dr. James Harvard, and all five of you have passed. I found my voice. What? What the hell have we passed? The evil asshole chuckled. Why, my dear boy, the test, of course. You are the five most evil humans on this planet. But first, he pulled out a small fin pointed medieval looking object. He threw it into Jonathan's groin. It met its mark and Jonathan fell. The scream could have destroyed every eardrum in the hall. Every man felt sympathy for Jonathan as he wept and wailed and lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood. But none of us were brave enough to do anything. Weeee. He gestured to the other seven people behind him. I've been looking for people just like you, people we can use as experiment. Another man, smaller, mean-looking initially but now wearing a look of absolute terror on his face, said, What kind of experiment? The organization I work for is a very old one. The man responded, settling back in his chair. We have been known as different things through history. Some you may have even heard. We are responsible. He leaned forward, his eyes dangerously glittering with a madness that sent chills down my spine. For the corruption of the collective human consciousness. What? The word rang out and no one knew who spoke it. Every year since before history was named history, we took people, evil, evil people. We harnessed their evil, turned their evil into these. He lifted a vile full of dark purple liquid from his pocket. And then we put them in the water, the ocean, the rivers, everything that people drank. You must understand, it's a slow process, millennia in the making, this inventing of human disease, sociopathy, psychopathy. The seeds of evil in every man, woman and child slowly being sown. He stood up and walked to each of us, carefully sizing us up. I flinched for the first time in my life when he approached me. You are the prototypes of exactly what we want filling this world, each and every one of you. As people lose the ability to hope and to care, they embrace their evil, and then you will start to kill each other indiscriminately. The good and meek will die and all we will have is a planet full of evil. But why? I spoke the words without even realizing it. The guy got super close to me, his eyes on mine, and a smile so wide it wasn't human. His words were slow, cold, and evil. I'll never forget them for the rest of my life. Because hell is running out of room, and the demons need a place to stay. All this happened yesterday. We were told to go home, sort out any business we needed to, and come back in three days. I'm writing this to you from my room at midnight before I turn myself into the police tomorrow morning. Hopefully in prison, they won't come back for me. They won't find me. I've never been afraid in my life, but I am now. I am the last person to care about this planet, but what I learned yesterday has terrified the humanity into my bones. I know what I'm asking for is impossible, but please, please stop. Stop drinking water.