Please let me know what you think. This is rated T for some content that might prove too mature for some readers. There will be a second chapter coming up soon if you say you want it.

Written in Red John's POV

I don't own The Mentalist

In the grim melancholy that I currently find myself in, I will recount past happenings in all truthfulness, for I should not be bias in these matters. I have wanted Patrick Jane to die ever since I first laid eyes on him. I had the upper hand in the little game we play until he started to work for the California Bureau of Investigation and met her. Teresa Lisbon. Ever since she came in the picture I have had to keep killing using the same MO so I can keep his interest away from her. She keeps some part of his spirit alive, and as long as he has a small amount of spirit he cannot bring himself to suicide.

The chaos began when she held his hand. He had been crying over the memory of that stupid noodle-head girl of his that I killed not too long ago and she pitied him. Even from over one hundred feet away I could see the love in her emerald eyes and it disgusted me. Why would she ever bring herself to show love for him when there is someone so much better, like me? I knew I would eventually have to break her spirit before I could ever break his. That day I came up with how was going to do it.

I had known her address for quite some time now. She was nice to look at, after all. On a breezy spring night I followed her back to her apartment from work and she hadn't seemed to notice. After about three hours I climbed the stairs to her level and slipped in through the open window. For a cop, she sure didn't take too many precautions.

I snuck up behind her in as she stood over the dining table, "Blessed precious," my words, although low and as safe-sounding as I could make them, seemed to make her jump. She instantly turned around, "how gloriously your eyes spin. Where's your gun?"

Beneath the cover of chocolate bangs her steel jaw shifted. "Get out," she said making pathetic attempts to sound authoritative while hiding immense fear.

"Oh, but I haven't gotten what I came here for. You mustn't get impatient," I explained carefully.

She tried to hold back a deep breath and failed, "What did you come here for Red John?"

I smiled. She knew my name…I didn't answer. Instead I caught her weaker arm and taped it down to the table. Once she realized what I had done she put up a great fight, but a small woman with claws is nothing I haven't seen before. A minute or two passed before I broke her stubborn jaw and fastened the other arm to the table. She was down, I had won and she knew it.

"It's strange," I observed before continuing, "I didn't think you would cry."

A single tear fell and I wiped it off with my thumb, "Please, don't do this. Just kill me."

I had to have fun first. I thought she would have known that, silly woman. I played with her for about an hour beating her and using her body for various pleasures before deciding she had enough. I taped together her arms and legs and shut her mouth before shoving her into my car.

We arrived at Mr. Jane's house not too much longer and before ringing the doorbell I stapled another note onto her back and gave her stomach one last decoration. It was almost as satisfying to see the look on Patrick's face at the sight of his boss as it was to torture her to the edge of her life. At least I hadn't killed her.

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