I remember how during my childhood, I always felt sick at the sight of blood.

Now, it seems strange that what once was my fear has become my life. I deal with blood in both my chosen careers the way a waitress in a cafe deals with sandwiches. After a while, the sight it's scent and sight and the realisation of what it actually is just fades into the background. At the end of the day, it's just a few pieces of bread on a plate. And at the end of the day, colours will become invisible and everything is greyscale

It's the same with people whose lives I take. The first few times, I saw their eyes and their faces and heard their screams, and it scared the hell out of me.

That was when I learnt to stop listening.

They stopped being faces. In my head, they were lives that were over in empty bodies that just hadn't stopped moving yet. I didn't notice things like the colour of their eyes anymore.

I don't know why I do what I do.

Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be normal. I think about Deb, and Rita and her children and so many others in my life and I know that that's what it's like to have family. And in terms of having what ordinary people have, they are my little pieces of normality.

At times in my life I've felt like there's nothing in this world for someone like me. I know I can't change, and though I've tried before to make myself want to take my own life, I can never generate enough will for suicide. The instinct inside me that screams for survival is too strong. The want, no, the need to protect myself is too stubborn.

After all, the first rule of being a killer is to never get caught.

My father taught me that. For years, in my head I would always refer everything back to the time that I had spent being trained by Harry. Since I found out that his death was, in fact, suicide, the image of him in my head has… changed. I once idolised Harry. Now, when I think of him, I feel afraid that I could ever do that to myself.

But as I've said, I never could. However angry or upset I felt, not that I ever feel either of those emotions to that extent.

I try not to feel.

I try not to, incredibly hard, and I think I may have mastered it. It's an art, mentally divorcing yourself from strong emotions.

I honestly don't remember the last time I cried. I can't think the last time I laughed, actually, genuinely laughed.

Emotions are always a bad thing. It's dangerous to even be attached to someone in the slightest. I think of the number of times I've wanted to tell certain people that I'm not the person they think I am, the person they trust, and it scares me.

Because it would ruin their lives.

So I just carry on living like I do. I don't try to stop killing, ever abiding by my personal code. What I do can stay a secret, and at the end of the day I'll just switch back to the person I pretend to be and wash the blood off my hands.
After all. The first rule of being a killer is to never get caught.