A/N: Omg, it's been nearly a year since I last worked on this...now finally, I have finished the first chapter! Idk if or when more will come, but I'm proud with what I've started and I hope you all enjoy it too. Comments and feedback will be appreciated; as hopefully it'll help to motivate me to write more. Until then, please enjoy! :)

February 14, 2009

Dear Diary,

It was only until I wrote the date out just now that I realized what day it was. Valentine's Day. A day for couples to make an excuse to stay in bed all day to make love endlessly. I wonder how many people are fucking at this very moment? Well I'm sure as hell am not one of them. I should be making love to John right now, instead of sitting here in this hellhole behind bars. I should've known it would end this way; nothing ever works out the way I want it to. Maybe I'm cursed? Or maybe...I deserve it. My trial is coming up soon; the trial that will ultimately decide my fate. I know the verdict will be guilty, that I have no doubt of. Then afterwards? I suppose I'll be given the death sentence...or worse...I'll rot away in some other mental hospital like Saarne. Either way, I know that I am doomed. Time has run out on me, so I suppose that's why I asked to be given this journal. If I am to die soon, then I want to make sure I leave some piece of me behind. If I can't obtain love, then by God I'm at least going to obtain some infamy.

My name is Leena Klammer. I'm thirty-three years old, trapped inside the body of a child. And I'm tired...tired of feeling so alone.

I guess if I'm going document my story, I should start at the beginning, where it all began...before the murders...before 'Esther' was even invented.

My father and I, we were very close. He taught me everything; how to sing, how to paint, how to play the piano...he also taught me how worthless I am and how nobody would ever love me like he did.

He used to rape me and my sister. I've never used the word 'rape' when talking about my father before; I guess because I never wanted to admit to myself that it was rape. I thought he loved me. But thanks to him fucking me ever since I was in diapers, he ruined any chance I had at becoming the one thing I've always longed to be; a mother.

Please understand, I am not writing this to gain sympathy by any means. My father's actions made me strong, and though he broke my heart, I still love him, even today. Growing up, I knew the things my father did to me were not considered 'normal' in society. Like all children who go to school, I learned the difference between "good touch" and "bad touch". My father was what they called a 'bad touch', but I didn't care. Just knowing that I was doing something that was so morally and ethically wrong...God, I can't lie...I thought it was such a turn on! My sister, however, never appreciated father's love like I did. I suppose that's why he visited my bedroom more often than her's. I was his favorite. With no mother to take care of us (she died while giving birth) my twin sister Veera and I were constantly at the mercy of our father. Sometimes he was gentle (mostly just with me), but there were other times where I remember things weren't always so pleasant. Karl could be a very scary, very frightful man when he wanted to be. And there had been several times where he had taken me without my consent. But it wasn't just 'immoral' sex my father was guilty of. He was an alcoholic, and a violent one at that.

One memory in particular stands out among the rest, way back when I was only a mere child of six; so young, so innocent. Well, any 'innocence' I had back then was surely stripped of me that day.

It was the middle of the night. I could hear my sister, Veera, screaming at the top of her lungs from her room across the hall. This was not unusual for me to hear, but still her screams sent an icy chill down my spine. Father was in there, doing what he does best. My heart raced; part of me wanted to run in and help her, but I too was scared of what Father would do. I knew better than to cross paths with that man when he was angry and drunk.

It seemed like hours, but finally Father was finished with her, and I could hear him step out of Veera's room. Usually he would come into my room next, but he didn't this time. I remember thinking that was odd. To this day, I'm not sure what possesed me to do what I did, but in my gut I felt something was wrong; so slowly, quietly I crawled out of bed and tip-toed over to my door. I opened it slowly and I could hear Veera still sobbing. Normally I'd go to comfort her during these rough nights, but something told me Father needed me more than she did.

At six years old, I was a lot shorter than my identical sister; practically the height of a toddler (Mind you, this was back before I knew of my disease) but though I was very small, I couldn't have been any braver than I was back then, as I slowly descended the stairs. Father was in the living room; just standing there staring with a blank expression on his face, looking at an empty spot on the wall. In his hand he held a gun.

I said nothing at first. I was standing at his side, a few feet away from him. He didn't even acknowledge I was there, and that frightened me. I had never seen my Father look so distant before; I could see the empty saddness in his eyes...saddness..and darkness. Who knows what thoughts were running through his head then, and I as an innocent child, had no clue. But now that I'm grown, I know...I know that in that moment, he must've felt guilty over what he had done. There was no other way to explain it, as I watched in horror as Father lifted the gun to his head.

"DADDY!" I screamed out, running to him, and luckily that snapped him out of his trance. He jumped slightly, turning to look at me, he slowly lowered the weapon.

"Daddy, don't! Please!" I begged, crying my little heart out.

He reached his hand down to stroke my dark hair, as he whispered, "I'm sorry, baby...I'm sorry I can't be a better father to you girls." His voice was slurred; I knew from experience that he was drunk out of his mind.

"B-but you are a good father, Daddy! The best," I cried, clinging to his arm; saying all I could in hopes he would just drop the gun. "Please...Let's go to bed. You're drunk!"

I knew the moment I said that, I regretted those words. It was as if a switch went off on him, and Father suddenly pushed me away; hard enough to knock me to the floor.

"DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" He roared, and I could feel my whole body shiver in fear.

"I..I'm sorry! I was just-..."

I couldn't get another word in as suddenly, Father grabbed me and yanked me up by my arm. It was a miracle he didn't pull my arm out of socket...he had before.

I was so scared now, I was crying and trembling uncontrollably. I had saved my Father's life, but now I was paying for it!

Father then cornered me against the wall so I couldn't escape, and I wouldn't even dare to try. Too afraid to move, I watched in horror as Father took the pistol and removed all the bullets...all except for one. I wimpered as he pinned me to the wall; pushing the barrel of the gun under my chin.

"Do you want to play?" He asked me; his voice dark and menacing. It took all he could just to stand up straight as he staggered some, swaying in front of me. He bend down, leaning his face close to mine; I could smell the harsh scent of booze on his breath.

He pushed the gun into me further, as if he was trying to ram it into my skull. I shook my head and cried as he loaded the gun; his finger on the trigger.

"P-Please! Daddy, stop! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" I begged, but he wouldn't listen.

I squeezed my eyes shut as he pulled the trigger...

Luck was on my side that night, as the gun only clicked. But I was still shaking, and suddenly I felt something wet run down my leg; creating a small puddle at my feet. I was so terrified, I had peed. I felt so humiliated!

Father snickered cruelly and growled in disgust, "You've pissed yourself!"

He finally let me go, and I bolted for the stairs, sobbing loudly.

It was then I realized how small I truly felt. There was no bravery in me after that; I ran straight to my room and slammed the door. But it didn't help any; Father still came in and did to me what he had done to Veera; showing me no compassion, no mercy.

To this day, I still cannot shake that feeling of how helpless I felt. So small and pathetic. It was in that moment that I vowed to never feel that way again. Never again would I let my weakness show! But that was a lot easier said than done; especially for a child. That was only the tip of the ice berg with Father; as the years passed, things only became worse...Especially when we realized I had stopped growing.

Shit! It's almost lights out now as I sit alone in this prison cell. I suppose I must wait until morning to write more. It's going to be hard to crame all these details into only one journal, but I must try...