Hello! Welcome to my shit show. They call me messed up, phyco, crazy. But I prefer happy. So cue the music and start reading.

Who Am I...

Does that really matter when I have forgotten myself?

Romantic Interests


Relationship Status


My Story Is...

The furthest back I can remember is 12 years ago when I woke up from the hospital. There were tubes everywhere and then I screamed at the sight of my father. The dirty abusive man who always had a knife on him. The doctor came running. My father, however, didn’t move. The doctor was checking my vitals and asked my father to leave the room. I calmed down after he left and the doctor was loaded with questions I  didn’t answer. I looked at the plain white ceiling and begged the voices to go away. I tried to sit up but the doctor forced me down and injected morphine.


When I woke back up again I was calmer as my father wasn’t there. It appeared to be the night when I looked out the window. I heard the doctors discussing something but didn’t pay much attention to it. There were fewer tubes now and it hurt everywhere. I sat up and the doctors looked over, urging me to lay down but I ignored them and leaned against the wall. I tried to remember something but could remember anything but the screaming and that the man was my abusive father.  The doctors asked the mandatory questions and I answered distantly. I tried to stand but they wouldn’t let me so I sat back down. They didn’t leave me alone after that and with each new shift the same questions were asked and the answers never changed. What really was going through my mind was that my father needed to die and nothing would stop me.


About a month later they released me and sent me to my trailer. It was a small room with a kitchen, couch, TV and two beds. I never liked it here and I never would. The TV was on the news channel with my dad on the couch watching lazily. He had told me to make something for dinner on my first day out of the hospital. I was cutting potatoes for a stew when I turned around and stabbed him in the heart. He bled out and I left the trailer with no place to go but the streets. I just went to the streets for a while, carrying a knife and skipping school. I found a nice place to stay for a while in an old, rundown hotel who took in the homeless for free. I stayed there and stole food from the pantry every night. I now had time to think over myself. I’m about 16, I killed my father, I have nowhere to go and I’m not in school. I laughed at my situation and began to mug people for their wallets and then killing them. I started a spree of killings and it came to be a lifestyle. I robbed and killed on the daily. I had bought myself a new knife and then began to enjoy my work. It got to the point where there was a cop around every corner so I killed a cop and the patrol tripled. Then I started to kill for fun. I killed and killed in my own style then started carving things in people’s flesh. I had written clues on her next killings whereabouts and time. I became a serial killer.


Once I was almost caught as I was carving flesh so I switched to using cards. Each card had a place and time on it as well as a cause of death. I killed and killed until I saw the next victim and he was a killer as well and I fell in love. I now went out with the mercenary. She was charming and skilled with a blade. I continued my little killing spree till she was paid to kill me. He hesitated to plunge her blade into my heart and so I pulled the trigger, taking her blade and her wallet with me.


I went back on the killing spree, leaving another card again and again till I barked up the wrong tree and was brought down. I didn’t remember much after that, but I woke up in Helifyno.

My Appearance



She carries a knife and a gun.