Personal Narrative-The Dark Passenger

The Dark Passenger Here I sit in my car outside the house. Tonight's the night. It has been to long. Tonight i will relieve my hunger for death. Emily Smith. I have been watching her for the last week or so, or so i think. i don't really keep track anymore. Sometimes i catch myself walking into work on saturdays and sundays. I just have other things to worry about other than the day of the week, like Emily Smith. Why did i pick her? I really don't know. I guess you could say she's attractive. Now that i look back at my other kills the females were all attractive. Which is strange because i don't really notice women, and i'm not looking for any type of relationship ever. No one knows the real me and i would like to keep it that way. I can't imagine if my friends, family, and colleagues found out about me. It would be the end for me. So why do i keep doing this? I'm addicted. This is an absolute addiction. I'm addicted to the feeling the rushes over me. The warm tingly feeling of when i take a life. It is what wakes me up in the morning and lets me sleep at night. I just feel like i'm not myself, like something has taken over me. Some Sort of dark passenger.
I would think that after my kill i would feel at least something. A feeling of guilt, a sour taste in my mouth ,or something like that. It's actually quite the opposite. I feel a sense of
I set that up last night. When i kill i do it right. I make sure everything is correct. I line the room with industrial plastic and duct tape. I set up my special kill table and make sure everything is perfect. My kill table straps the people downs by their core ,wrist, legs, feet chest, and head. They are not going anywhere. Lucky for me Mrs. Smith has two kids and a husband. I took their pictures and hung them from the plastic when setting up the room. I like to show my victims what it is they will be missing, and watch the tears stream down there