Kuroshi
Vol.1
Kuro:
I stared up blankly at the white ceiling of my room. I'm extremely bored at the moment. I've been in here for a little over a week but I never seem to get used to it, vacant feeling… like something is missing. I've always been lonely. For as long as I can remember I have been seeking a decent, unconditional relationship but I never found one. "I am alone. No one loves me. No one will ever love me. There's no point in looking for friends or love anymore." That's what I always thought, that is, until I met her.
My name is kuro. It's ironic since kuro means "black" and my one noticeable trait is my shoulder-length black hair. I am short, 153 cm (or a little over 5 feet) and I was often mistaken for a middle-schooler when I was still in high school. I'm 16 years old, I would be in high school right but there is one slight problem… I am a murderer.
Growing up, my father would often abuse me, he never did anything beyond hitting me and I am thankful for that. He was a drug addict and went off the deep end a couple of times. He would blame me for everything, his shortage on drugs, his sadness, even his laziness. Everything was made into my fault and I was beaten in places that no one would notice. Laying on my bed covered in bruises and lifelessly thinking, I had a sudden thought that was normally unique to someone as timid as me, "why don't I just kill him?" It's not like I had anything to lose. My mother passed away when I was 6 and I always preferred to side with women over men whenever an argument or disagreement happened at school. Ever since I was old enough to hate, I despised men. Even men who were nice to me, though not intentionally, I would hate them. I never saw them as scary, just weak and selfish. I know not all men are like that but I can't think of them any other way… my father made sure of that.
The day after I decided to kill my father, I waited until he "doped up" on his usual heroine needle, I then took a skewer for grilling out of the kitchen and made my way over to him. He was too out of it to notice me standing over him. Without a second thought, I took the end of the skewer and plunged it through him throat. He flailed around on the chair he was laying in and was make irrational sound effects while gasping for air. Dyeing only lasted about 30 seconds, which was a relief to me. I wanted to kill him but I didn't want to make him suffer, no matter how much I hated him. This wasn't a crime of passion, it was a crime of pure hopelessness. I found no happiness in killing him, I just wanted to be free of his abuse. After thinking about my reasoning for a few seconds, I noticed a puddle of blood seeping out of the hole in his neck, I flinched. A slight twinge of guilt hit me but was then removed immediately after I saw his face, he looked so peaceful. "I guess now we might both be free of abuse" I whispered to myself while crying at my own words. After standing there for a few minutes, crying, I looked at his hair. It fascinated me, "it's like mine but then why were we so different?" I thought to myself. After staring at his short black locks for a while, I wiped the tears from my face and headed towards the kitchen. I opened the utensil drawer and grabbed the scissors. When I approached my father's body, I took the scissors and cut a thick lock from his bangs and put it in my pocket. I planned on putting it in a zip lock bag later. "Why am I doing this?" I thought. I later learned that this wasn't a usual murder of hate, no, not at all. I later learned that I, kuro shisumi, am a serial killer.
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