DIARY ENTRIES:
February 19 – Asked Henry why God allows such bad things
to happen to me? Said God doesn’t cause
bad things, that we ourselves chose these things to happen to us. Major events that seem negative are life
lessons for out spiritual growth. What
nonsense he feeds me. God hates me, it’s
that simple.
February 26 – Female nurses’ aide slapped old lady in
face, fired her. She just burned out,
low pay and long hours done her in.
Emptied bedpans, urinals and catheter bags. Wiped I don’t know how many butts. This job way too hard for such low pay. My feet, legs and back ache, and now have
blisters on my toes from running up and down hall answering call-lights.
March 16 – Old lady gave me big bunch of cash to terminate
her pitiful and painful existence.
Pleaded with me, felt sorry for her, and I need the money. Mercy killing seems all right to me,
shouldn’t have to suffer if don’t want to.
Henry told me not to do it. Told
him isn’t murder if ask for it, remember free will. Went into her room around 2am and used my
hands to pinch her nose and mouth shut.
She tried to pull my hands away, but too weak. Her legs and hips jerked and twisted, finally
went limp. All over in 6 minutes.
March 17 – Big mistake, in dark, suffocated wrong old
lady. Henry popped in, said my chance at
redemption ended with murder of one of God’s children. I would now have to endure the fate he hoped
to avoid through positive changes I was making.
I broke out into heavy sweat, became nauseated and vomited.
March 18 – The nightmare has returned, it’s worse than
ever! Henry’s not talking to me
anymore. I’m screwed!
“Simon, on March the seventeenth, you realized
you murdered the wrong woman. How did
you feel after that event?”
She was now rushing me along I felt, possibly
our time was running short. Pausing, I
became agitated. I finally answered her
with a smart-ass question of my own, “You just love that word ‘feel’ don’t
you?”
She leaned back away from me, a little
surprised by my sarcastic question. Hesitating
only momentarily, she re-engaged me.
“Please stay focused on the questions I ask, Simon.”
Now I wasn’t sure what to say, she called my
stall tactic, I crumbled emotionally.
“Sorry,” I squeaked out.
“Well, our time for now has expired,” she said,
turning off the recorder. She yawned and
glanced over to see if I had noticed.
I quickly made out like I was now absorbed in
finding the TV remote. She hoisted her
large frame off the couch, and headed for the hall. I turned the TV on and stayed to relax for a
while. I’m emotionally drained, all this
shit is getting to me. I can’t take much
more of this mind-fucking routine.
