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Into the Darkness


Being the younger brother of the prolific serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer has certainly set up our hero for a difficult life. Everything from people’s perception of him to his own feelings about himself, nothing is rational or logical, nothing has come easily. David Dahmer lives in a constant storm cloud of depression and judgement even though he had absolutely nothing to do with his older brother, The Milwaukee Monster, and the grotesque serial murders he committed. Due to these facts, poor David is under doctor’s care and heavily medicated at all times. You never know when you may fall into the darkness, especially when it is in your genes.

No one, and I mean absolutely no one, enjoys a doctor’s waiting room. The decorum is set to be neutral, relaxing, calming, but what the professionals don’t realize is that the lack of character and depth in their waiting rooms causes a nauseating anxiety and deep soul-sucking depression. The worst waiting rooms on the planet are the psychiatrist’s queue rooms. This is where our heroine finds himself now, right in the belly of the beast, his one-thirty appointment with Dr. Allan Winchester.

Subconsciously staring straight ahead, David Dahmer sat awkwardly on his own foot, folded under his butt to add some cushion to the manufactured plastic chair. Hanging pictures of luscious landscapes with flocks of soaring birds and a salacious sun took center stage on each of the four walls with an off-white drywall as the backdrop. Bright yellow ‘DISCLAIMER’ signs adorned the open frame of the access hole that led the patients to the dreaded examination rooms.

‘Payment is due the same day as the appointment’

‘Insurance updates are to be noted immediately upon arrival’

‘There is a $50 cancellation fee for all missed appointments’

David thought to himself out loud, “Why is it called a cancellation fee if the appointment is missed? That doesn’t make much sense, but it is what it is, nothing much to be concerned with, I have never missed an appointment without a forty-eight-hour notice. I can’t afford to; the doctor and the meds keep me going.” He patted his denim pockets, a plastic clanging sound escaped into the waiting room. David always had his pills on him; things could get out of control if he missed a dose.

The receptionist, a young lady wearing a doctor’s overcoat, looked over the rim of her thick framed glasses at David as he vigorously talked to himself. With a very obvious screech, she reached up with her French manicured fingers and closed the safety partition keeping the loonies on the outside and securing her safety, contently sitting behind a ten-year-old computer in an oddly small room. To her left, a stack of loose papers, literally a real-life version of ‘Jenga’. The worker that placed a stack of papers on the file tower causing it to topple over was the loser and had to spend the next three days reorganizing each patients’ deepest secrets and darkest truths.

The entry door opened; a burst of sunlight struck out at the feeble skin wrapped around David’s frail skeleton. Into the room walked Sasha Walker, a ten-year veteran of this particular facility, mentally no better than the first day she strolled in but as long as the doctors continued to provide the meds, she continued to come. Immediately after the door nearly hit her on the ass on the way in, Sasha scrunched her face at David as he continued to speak to the empty room, “Who the hell are you talking to? Come on buddy, Erin is shaking in her little fluffy boots back there. Hold it together now, you could ruin this gig for all of us.”

Sasha didn’t bother to stop when she addressed David, she stomped right up to the plexiglass partition and slid it open with one swift motion, “Sasha for Winchester, I’m after that nut bag over there.” She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder, almost poking herself in the eyeball. David looked up and accepted her insensitive term of detriment. Erin popped the cap off of her yellow highlighter and scoured her checklist for ‘Walker, Sasha’. Finding her target on the roster of mentally ill patients, the ever-quiet squeak of the highlighter highlighting over her name gently yelped out in a lame attempt to combat David’s deep voice yapping about the pros and cons of caffeine as a stimulant.

The center of this tale, our haunted hero, continued to hold a raucous debate with himself, never noticing the small young lady shielding herself from what she perceived as craziness behind a quarter inch piece of plastic on a rusty metal rail, a false sense of security. The type of false security like making sure not a centimeter of your body was hanging off the bed at night, ensuring the monsters wouldn’t be able to take a vicious bite. As your trusty narrator, I can tell you one thing for certain, nothing can provide safety once you have ventured into the darkness.

Officially being checked in, Sasha turned, looked over her brown sunglasses at David, and grabbed a seat. There were only two seats in the depressing waiting room, and they faced one another. There they sat, David and Sasha, apple and orange, pen and pencil, polar opposites, “Caffeine is fine in moderation, you’ll kill yourself worrying over the tiniest of details before too much caffeine will hurt you.” This comment caused David to smile at Sasha, Sasha did not reciprocate.

With an obviously fake clearing of his throat, David worked up the nerve to engage Sasha, “Well…Hi…umm…never seen you here before…I’m…uhh…David.” Sweat formed a barrier at David’s brow line; social interaction was not his forte. His large green eyes scanned Sasha, head to toe and back again.

“You’re David Dahmer. I know you, no need for intros, you know me as well. We have met before, I assure you. You must be having a rough one today. No meds?” Sasha leaned forward placing her elbows on the tops of her knees, propping her head up with the combination of her palms pressed together. Her posture played exactly as she intended with her low-cut shirt. David instantly turned blood red, as if an invisible person had just run a red soaked paintbrush right over his stunned face.

Before David had time to even think about forming some sort of odd balled sentence, Sasha pointed down at her pant-covered crotch, “My eyes are down here, David. Don’t be rude now. Three, two, one.”

The door leading to the doctor’s office opened immediately at the end of Sasha’s countdown and the sturdy lady holding a neglected manila envelope said, “David Dahmer.” Up he stood, knees shaking like a little puppy in the middle of a snowstorm. Sasha had officially rattled him, a deep to the core sort of rattle, “Come on Mr. McNally, the clock is ticking, let’s get you back to see Doc Winchester.” The large lady looked around the small waiting room while she waited for David to get himself together, looked back at her folder, and stepped back into the fray with David in tow. The door slammed shut behind them, David was officially property of the practice for the next fifteen minutes.

Every so often, I am going to chime in, narrator or not. It is imperative that you understand what you are reading. There is always a chance that you, dear reader, may find yourself traveling into the darkness. Use this cautionary tale to guide you back to the light. There aren’t many humans strong enough to turn themselves away from the grasp of the darkness. There is a certain seduction to it, a temptatious pull, that demands attention, unabbreviated attention. Nothing good has ever happened in the darkness, not one single positive thing.

Entering the office, there sat Doctor Winchester waiting impatiently, tapping his pen to some annoying song that was stuck in his head from this morning’s drive in, “Mr. Dahmer, my number one patient. How are you today, buddy? Anything pressing any buttons I should know about?” Once he stepped foot in the doctor’s office, every single thing he did was noted, everything was calculated, conversations were information grabbers, not social interactions. Such is life when you are under a shrink’s care.

The dizzying pace that David’s brain was operating at would have short circuited ninety-nine percent of the human population’s little pea brains, “Well Doc, I just had an interesting interaction with your patient Sasha out in the lobby. It, well, it was rather aggressive and had an erotic overtone to it. I’m not sure, I’ve…I’ve never been with a…you know.” David’s face flushed red again, slowly but surely this time. The doctor’s bulky assistant gently pulled the door shut and went on to her 7-11 cupcakes that had been calling her name since she’d arrived.

Judging from past visits with Doctor Winchester, this one was almost a direct parody of all the previous ones. They basically had an unwritten script, ask a question, receive an answer, write it down. The process helped speed along these weekly visits, “David, I cannot disclose anything pertaining to a patient that may or may not be on my roster.” This exchange was eloquently noted in David’s growing file as there had never been talk of a girl before. In fact, there had never been a discussion of anyone other than David’s dead parents, no one walking this planet had ever been even remotely brought up during a session.

Pulling the ‘check-in’ session back on course, David answered the questions the same way he always had, being very deliberate and concise with his answers, to guarantee he would receive his typical medications without any deviation. It was hard to believe one had to earn a master’s degree to sit and listen to other people’s problems but that was a fact, plain and simple.

“Again, how are you feeling?” Doctor Winchester paused there, an answer was needed from David so his mental health survey could be completed and checked off the list of things to do.

“The same.” This was an outright lie, David did not feel the same, but the medication drove the answers, not the truth.

Doctor Winchester scribbled some random notes as he acknowledged David, “Okay, good. Have there been any changes in your life that you deem substantial, anything I should note in your file?”

The interaction with Sasha in the waiting room was substantial to David. A deep fear of losing his edible life controlling pills coursed through his veins, “No.” Another lie, Sasha had already begun to lead the way, even though their meeting was nothing more than a crossing of paths, a coincidence.

David stared on at the notepad Doctor Winchester was holding, watching his hand dance across the paper, noting everything that was said, everything he perceived as relevant. “Well, no changes to the medication regimen you are on. We will continue on with our weekly visits and proceed from there. Just don’t go out there eating anybody.” The doctor let off an enormous belly laugh at his poor attempt at humor.

This was easily David’s hundredth or so visit to a psychiatrist. He knew the drill, the system, the verbiage, everything to ensure that his thirty-eight-year-old body would have a working thirty‐eight-year-old brain running the show. This was all, to put it simply, a means to an end.

One final word from the trusted doctor, “Dave, don’t forget, lithium in the morning and after lunch. That’s very important.” One could only imagine what it would look like if a shrink’s patient went haywire and went out into the world with some devilish activities on his mind. That would be a career ender. Especially one with the fact tree David had.

David nodded as he clutched his paper prescriptions, his lifelines, and went on about the procedure to get out the door and on his way.


Walking slowly, trying not to show his relief and excitement at getting another set of prescriptions to devour and thrive from, David worked his way to the checkout window where Erin awaited his arrival. Rarely did Erin the receptionist ever make direct eye contact with David, there was something about him that really put her on edge, made her feel like creepy crawlies were all over her spine, causing a brain awakening shiver to run the length of her back. I suppose we all have certain aspects of our jobs that we dislike, David Dahmer just happened to be that aspect for Erin.

Murmuring something to himself the entire way down the hallway, David drew closer to the after-appointment processing area. Erin had his appointment card already scribbled up with November eleventh on it following a one o’clock and an ‘at’ symbol. Her handwriting even portrayed the fear she had in her heart for David, if one looked closely enough, they would notice a slight tremble accompanying her penned letters and numbers.

With a flannel button up shirt buttoned up to the top notch and tightly tucked into his denim pants, David plopped both of his pale hands up on the counter, “All done, my love. One week from…” Erin pushed the appointment card out of the service window and under David’s index finger, interrupting his thoroughly rehearsed exit speech.

Glancing up and back down again very quickly, “Twenty dollars, Mr. Dahmer. Be safe and we will see you next week.” David handed over a crisp twenty dollar bill he received from the bank just yesterday. He worked for a small mom and pop shop working on lawnmower engines and the such. It kept him busy and mentally sharp, as far as small engine repair knowledge went. Mostly and more importantly, this work kept David from too much interaction with other folks. The general public around these parts tended to keep their distance from Mr. Dahmer, just to be safe.

Erin quickly grabbed the twenty-dollar bill, retreated her hand back on her side of the counter, and promptly shut the plexiglass divider. None of this seemed odd to David, this is how everyone acted when he was around. To him, this is just how life was and he was the one that acted normally and respectfully, everyone else just acted like assholes.

For the first time in his life, David was about to address the actions of others and attempt to correct Erin and how she treated him. Just as he was about to open the plexiglass divider and give her a good tongue wagging, something caught his eye, deep in his peripheral. It was Sasha, she was waving him out of the hallway and into the waiting room. Her black low-cut blouse and skintight black pants stuck out like a sore thumb against the soft off-white walls surrounding her.

Her crooked eyeliner was eating away at David’s OCD, but there was certainly nothing he could do about it, nothing polite at least. With an aggressive wisp, “Let’s go, David. Don’t you have somewhere to be? Leave little Erin alone, today is not the day that you take your stand. That day is coming soon, but you’re not ready yet.” During her degrading monologue, Sasha began bleeding, melting actually. Her face began to drag down, as if gravity were three or four times its normal strength but only on her face. Blood oozed from her eyes, but she did not flinch. Her skin drooped heavily, but she did not react. Her bones became exposed, but she did not mention it.

David immediately boiled over in fear, he had seen something like this before, his mother’s face when she was pulled from the house fire that killed her, the fire that David accidentally started while playing with a box of matches in the kitchen while his parents slept. Over a decade and a half ago, that’s about right, the hero of our story, David Dahmer, accidentally had experience murdering humans, this would be the catalyst of his life. Please do not ask me, your humble narrator, to explain why a twenty-year-old David was playing with matches.

Scared and quivering with terror, David bolted from the checkout counter, past Sasha, and threw himself out of the door labelled ‘Winchester Psychiatric, LLC’. The flashbacks to that night were incapacitating; a severe panic entered David’s body, filling him with a psychological cement. He would soon be paralyzed, trapped in his own body, if this level of panic continued.

Still framed pictures of his mother, Delila, burnt and charred, being carried out on a paramedics’ stretcher bounced between David’s ears. The fire had reached his parents’ bedroom before they even had time to wake up, this left little time to make smart decisions, no time to save themselves. David stood with a fireman and fought the first responder’s attempts to shield his view. He didn’t know it then, but damn he really wished he had not seen what he saw. Forever etched into his brain, the images of his medium-well mother, dead because of him, would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Like a barbie doll stolen by a little girl’s older brother and held to an open flame, Delila’s face had practically liquified. Her cheeks tear dropped flesh, giving her an extraterrestrial type of appearance. Flesh and muscle stood absolutely no chance when battling against flames; Delila’s face was proof of that fact. Unfortunately for everyone, Jeffrey (The soon to be Milwaukee Monster) was able to escape the inferno. The screams of his parents dying didn’t bother David, they sounded like animals holding a conversation in the middle of a field, but the smell of cooked human flesh, that lingered with David to this very day. It certainly stayed at the front of Jeffrey’s mind considering what he chose to do later on in life.

As the blinding glimpses of his dead mother blocked his view, David did his best to capture the vicinity of the bus stop as the pictures slideshowed before his eyes. The sound of the door opening behind him ceilinged the panic running through his veins. Sasha had followed him outside, she placed a heavy arm around David as he struggled to clear his head, “What’s the deal, Dave? Are you going to just stand here all day looking at pics of your dead mommy or are we going to get out of here and go cause some trouble?”

David had never had a girl’s arm around him before, that thought helped to pull him from the torment of panic and back to reality, “Trouble? Wait, how do you know all this about me? Why are you talking to me?” He was running the gambit of emotions right now as a different type of panic entered his brain. Side note, there are some good types of panic, normal people call those occasions excitement.

Looking down at his shoulder, David watched as Sasha’s red polished nails transformed right before his eyes into razor sharp talons that resembled those of a hawk or eagle. Sasha leaned her mouth right next to David’s waiting ear, “We can cause all sorts of trouble if we want to. You’re crazy, that’s a get out of jail free card, Dave.” A sharp pain engulfed David’s shoulder as the newly formed talons attached to Sasha’s fingers sunk into his flesh. Dime sized dots of blood took up real estate on his flannel top, the crimson blended into the red and black square pattern of his shirt.

As his five o’clock shadowed jaw dropped, ready to unleash a horrifying scream, Sasha’s warm breath enveloped his ear, “You can’t scream, I assure you, you are literally unable to scream right now. So, are you going to go cause some trouble or should I continue to bloodlet you in a very unorthodox way?” To emphasize her point, Sasha gave her sunken fingers a little wiggle.

Unable to escape the pain rushing through his body, David nodded, “Yes, okay. Let’s go cause some trouble. Just please let go of my shoulder.” Tears raced one another down David’s face, the pain from the puncture wounds and the pain from reliving his parents’ demise was just too much to handle right now. With each drop of heavy, salty tears, David felt slightly better. Obviously, the physical pain was still eating away at him but releasing emotions, he rarely did that. Poor David had a very hard time getting to that level of emotion, it felt good to him, euphoric.

To finish off the creepiness of this encounter, Sasha outlined David’s boxy ear with a skinny forked tongue, “That ‘a boy. Let’s get to the bus, we can decide where the trouble will start once we get moving.” She continued to manipulate David’s earlobe with her forked tongue, removed her talons from his shoulder, and gave him a big smack on the ass.

Off they went, onto the bus to do God knows what.


Rubbing his shoulder, spreading the small spurts of blood around his former pristine flannel button up, David boarded the bus that led directly to the stop to his pharmacy, the pharmacy where they all knew him by name. Sasha followed behind, closely behind. It was almost like she wasn’t even there, at least to the bus driver. She managed to skate by and avoid detection, therefore circumnavigating the payment process. In all truthfulness, it didn’t matter, the bus was half full if that.

Finding an empty filthy molded seat, David sat with a bit of caution. He had had an incident with bubble gum and khaki pants on one ride and hell would have to freeze over for that to happen again. Sasha sat next to him in the dual seat without a care in the world. Bubble gum be damned, filth is just a concept to her, life was meant to be lived, not avoided and coddled.

Sasha rested her hand on David’s thigh, his inner thigh to be exact, resulting in a massive flinch and an instant sweat wall building up on David’s forehead. He begged out loud, “No claws this time, please, no claws. That is a very delicate area, Sasha.” Immediately, anyone within three plastic seats of David stood, grabbed their belongings, and moved all the way to the back of the bus leaving David and Sasha sitting at the front, just them and the driver.

Chuckling at his childish fear, Sasha had an idea, “You ready to cause some trouble? Actually, it’s not a question. We’re going to cause some trouble.” Sasha clenched down on David’s thigh, inciting a moderate amount of pain to make it very clear that her message was to be taken seriously, “See the driver up there? See him? Go swipe his glasses off of his face while he’s driving, while the bus is in motion. Maybe take a bite out of his ear too, you know what, definitely take a bite out of his ear, just like Mike Tyson. If you don’t, I’m going to kill you, right here in front of all these frightened people.”

Swallowing as hard as he had ever swallowed before, David immediately fell timid and weak. His body was shutting down at the ultimatum Sasha had just laid on his lap. All he knew was that he was not ready to leave this world, not now, not today. David felt he had no choice in the matter, he had already felt the wrath of Sasha and her talons. Before he stood to scoot butt first by Sasha, David took out his lunchtime dose of lithium. He casually popped it in his mouth and proceeded to chew it into tiny bits. No water needed; he was a pill taking veteran.

Glaring up from her seat, Sasha took a huge exception to this, “Did I say you could take meds during this trouble making session? What the hell David? Now, I’m really going to kill you if

you bail out on this expedition.” Sasha held her hand out far, more than enough for David to see, and flashed a completely morphed hand in front of his face. Her fingers were now steak knives, serrated and glimmering in the sunlight, “You damn fool, this is going to be so painful. Better

get on with it now, get that driver…or else.”

Swallowing hard and deep, the lithium burned its way down David’s throat. He was now awkwardly standing in the middle of the isle while the bus was in motion. All the passengers that had retreated to the rear if the public bus watched on in terror, they were very unsure of what the local crazy was about to do. The driver checked his large rear-view mirror and noticed David standing still, doing nothing, “Sir, David, sit down. You know the rules. Sit down or I’m going to have to kick you off the bus.”

Now David had even more decisions to make. Sit down and accept death from Sasha, attack the driver and complete his mission, or do nothing and get kicked off of the fear filled bus, resulting in death by Sasha and her steak knife hand. It was truly a catch 22. After about fifteen seconds, David had decided that today was not the day to get stabbed and disembodied by this horribly scary Sasha. He walked tentatively towards the driver as both their eyes bounced from the mirror to each other. This was about as tense of a situation as it could get.

Coming within arm’s reach of the driver, there was once more proclamation made, “Sit down, David. Last warning or you are off of here and barred for life.” This threat made David stop in his tracks. He quickly looked back towards Sasha; she was gone. Immediately a sense of calm filled his body.

“I’m going to go sit back down, you are an excellent driver. I appreciate you,” David said this about as creepily as possible. Crisis averted; he did not know where Sasha went but she was most definitely not on the bus anymore. That was impossible as the bus had not slowed down or stopped during this entire interaction.

Nevertheless, David was relieved and sat back down, still clutching the life out of his paper prescriptions. He wasn’t sure what had happened, where Sasha had gone, and why he was so calm now, but damn it was a hell of a relief.

Subconsciously checking over his shoulder every five seconds, David sat and rode in silence. The bus, scared passengers filling the rear, fell silent and calm. Sasha was gone for now; did that mean he was safe from the murder she had promised him. For now, at least he didn’t have to live up to his heritage and eat the bus driver’s ear. His brother, now deceased, would have jumped at the chance.

Our hero, troubled as he was, began to take mental notes similar to how people that suffer migraines or panic attacks would note everything. Sasha was gone, but what had caused this. Things were calm and there was absolutely no human eating going on, how had he reached this point. Was it the lithium? Had he given in to Sasha’s demands and threats, resulting in a premature exit being taken by our haunting young lady character? Perhaps there had been an opportunity to exit the public transportation and David simply missed it. That had to be the ultimate answer. Sasha bailed, thinking that her instructions were about to be followed, trying to avoid the police that would undoubtedly be called to the scene.

None of that mattered now, Sasha was gone, and the pharmacy stop that David had grown so fond of was coming up. The passengers were safe and would soon be able to disperse throughout the bus with calmness and ease. Sadly, this was the life David Dahmer was cursed to live. It wasn’t his choice, his older brother had designated this future for him when he began torturing, killing, and eating young men in Milwaukee. Sometimes life just deals you a shit hand. You gotta play the cards you are dealt, there are no discards and no do-overs in life.

The huge bus came to a stop right at the sign for the mom-and-pop pharmacy David had been using for years. The big chain pharmacies, well, they kindly declined his business. They wanted nothing to do with him, all because of his older brother’s sins.

Off the bus, David waved at the driver. The door slammed behind him and there was no wave sent back his way, that was life. As the bus pulled away, David watched the scared passengers move themselves around the bus, free of the threat that David imposed on them.

He waved at each and every one of them, “Bye, enjoy the rest of your commute!”

A dull and faded sign hung in front of his face as soon as he turned around, ‘Davindale’s Medications’, his pharmacy. The only place that would take him as a client, but the owners were very nice people, they knew David had problems but they also knew that Jeffrey was the psycho, not David.

Looking left and right before heading in, David was free from the terrifying grasp of Sasha. He had officially lost her, at least for now. Inside he went, confident and happy for the first time in a long time. Jack and Wendy were waiting at the counter, smiling when he entered their store.

It’s nice to feel wanted.

Time to re-up his medications and try to figure out where that pesky Sasha went off to and how she went off to wherever it was. If she disappeared off the face of the Earth today never to return again, that would be a gift from the Gods.


Jack and Wendy Davindale unfortunately previously lived beneath the apartment Jeffrey Dahmer, David’s older brother, rented out and performed his studies in. When he wasn’t out at the local bars luring men back to his apartment for photoshoots, he was drilling small holes in their skulls and injecting acid, in a failed attempt to make them zombies, submissive slaves that would do anything he wanted. When that failed, David’s older brother would kill them and dissect them, making sure to save the best organs and meat for later consumption and enjoyment.

Being so close to the tragic area, Jack and Wendy felt that they needed to look out for David as they knew what would be coming his way, a life of torture and torment, none of it his doing. Jack took a much stronger liking to David than Wendy did, but she liked him, truly. The two made sure that any aspect of David’s life they could make more positive, they would go out of their way to do so.

David walked in, setting off the old nineteen-seventies door hits the bell chime. The level of relief he was feeling right now, being free of Sasha, was almost intoxicating. David was on cloud nine, prescriptions in hand, about to interact with two people that didn’t judge him for the misdeeds of his older brother, “Good day my dear friends. I have some papers for you. I can come back tomorrow, so there is no rush at all.” David’s face was beaming, he was so happy to be around normal, nonjudgmental humans.

With an overly large smile, Jack Davindale greeted his favorite client, “David! My boy! How are you today? Anything we can do to help you?” Wendy smiled as well, just not as emphatically as her elderly husband. It is my belief, as the narrator, that Wendy Davindale was slightly scared of David Dahmer. Perhaps she had a fear that Jeffrey’s horrifying acts were hereditary.

With a handful of crumpled up papers and a goofier than normal smirk on his face, David handed over the prescriptions to Jack, “I need these filled please. Lithium, Xanax, Effexor. I have one more Lithium pill left so tomorrow will do the trick.” David handed over his prized possessions and turned to leave, his business was done, why hang around even if these are the only two people on the planet that can stand your presence?

Stopping short of leaving, David paused at the door and returned to the counter, “Actually, I do have something I need some guidance with. I met this woman, Sasha something, at Doctor Winchester’s office. She was really pushing for me to do some wild and crazy stuff, similar to the sort of things Jeffrey did. Well, as I was about to execute her direction or risk getting gutted by her knife fingers, yes you heard me right, and the next thing I knew, she was gone. Vanished. I don’t get it.” David’s face was genuinely locked in a look of confusion.

Pretending to not know exactly what happened, Jack loosened his smile, “Well, that is very interesting. As you know David, there are a lot of strange people around these parts. She probably got off at the bus stop, maybe you just lost some time and missed it.” The pharmacist was working on something, something mischievous perhaps.

Jack looked at David as he handed the papers over to his wife, “Honey, let’s get these turned around right now. Code three them, will you?” Wendy nodded and went back in the distance behind the shelves of narcotics, antidepressants, and erectile dysfunction pills, the entire personality of the world was sitting on these shelves and Jack along with his lovely wife Wendy had complete control over them.

Wendy worked to remove the defects in the prescription by working the papers back and forth on the edge of the dark blue wood counter, “You wouldn’t happen to have that last pill on you, would you? I’d like to take a look at it, there’s been a recall.” Let the games begin. David handed over his final Lithium pill to Wendy Davindale and she did her best inquisitive diagnostic of the perfectly fine Lithium pill.

Shaking her head, “David, this is the recalled pill. I am going to have to replace it. Just hang around for a bit and I’ll get all your meds ready so you won’t have to come back tomorrow.”

Feeling perfectly fine, rare for David, he decided to have a seat and wait out the refills. Wendy made a good point, save the trip, no need to return tomorrow, “Excellent. Probably for the best. Thank you, lovely Wendy.”

Once David had departed far away to the seat deeply buried in the corner away from the window, Jack turned to his wife, “Code three, clear? We have him right where we want him. Hallucinating but the Lithium stopped it. Swap in the sugar pills and let’s get rid of some of these lowlife folks around here, I know exactly who to sick David on first, the Sheriff.” Jack waved his wrinkled old man hands out in front of himself as if to swat his wife away, sending her off to get this mission underway. Shit was about to get real.

Literally twiddling his thumbs, staring at the credit card operated blood pressure machine, our heroine had no idea the level of hell that was about to be bestowed upon him. Once this dose of Lithium wore off, there was no telling what was going to come his way next. At this point in time, medicated and relaxed, David was just sitting peacefully, ignorant and oblivious. There was no weird dialogue with himself, no odd thoughts, and no Sasha. No Sasha was an absolute blessing.

Jack and Wendy pretended the best they could that the refills were taking a little longer than normal as to not raise suspicion. Lithium, sugar pills. Xanax, sugar pills. Effexor, normal. Effexor would keep him happy, not depressed. A happy zombie is a good zombie. This just goes to show you, even old people you have known all your life can betray you and use you like a puppeteer manipulating a marionette. If I didn’t know the ending of this wicked tale, I’d feel sorry for David. Sit tight, read away, and get ready for a wild ride.

Twenty minutes had passed since David had handed over his crumpled-up prescriptions. He was still sitting as still and calm as before, he was being a proper gentleman, not knowing he was being walked directly into a trap.

Pulling his wife next to him closely, Jack whispered, “You see how we were able to get Jeffrey to do all those horrible things? Just wait and see what we can accomplish with his little brother. Are you ready for this, love?” A wicked smile filled Jack’s old face, stretching all the decades of wrinkles back making him appear thirty years younger.

Wendy nodded and giggled a bit, she hadn’t giggled like that since grade six, “I’m always up for a little fun. Yes, Jeffrey did well, but David, my God, David can accomplish so much more. I’m ready to serve him, sugar pills for three months, ready and verified.” She waved the stapled shut bag in the air as Jack laughed under his breath. Evil really does surround every aspect of our lives, David was being led into the darkness.

David Dahmer hopped up from the corner as soon as his name was called, “What’s the damage, how much do I owe you?” In this moment, David was content, happy, normal.

Trying not to smile, Jack replied, “Davey, this one’s on the house. Enjoy, be safe, and keep getting better. You’re a good man.” Wendy stood next to her man with the power of evil fueling her heart. The two of them were both dreaming of who else they could kill off once David started to really go bonkers. Sometimes, life is a bitch.

With a genuine feeling of goodness pushing him, David took his meds and went on about his way. His lower level ‘all he could afford’ apartment was just two blocks from here and he still had at least two hours left before his Lithium wore off, of course he didn’t know that, but he would soon find out.

The darkness was about to consume poor David, regardless of how much he wanted to do good, the darkness always wins.


Happier than a pig eating shit, seriously that is how the saying goes, David Dahmer was whistling a fine little dandy song he was freestyling as he strolled down the sidewalk towards the apartment complex he rented from one of the Davindale’s relatives. Didn’t I tell you that they treated him very kindly and watched out for him? When one has the big picture in their sights, a couple of decades of kindness is worth all the trouble in the world when creating a monster.

As his feelings of happiness and euphoria slowly waned, David proceeded on, smiling and warm inside, but he still maintained a healthy dose of caution, keeping his eyes moving around constantly, on the lookout for that tumultuous Sasha Walker. Our unfortunate hero clutched his paper bag of pills and practically skipped down the sidewalk. Each citizen he passed scooted quickly out of his way, they scrunched their faces and took deep breaths. All of them knew David and all of them were very scared that he would snap and decide to take a vicious bite out of their throats or abduct them and dissect their bodies in the privacy of his quant apartment.

For the first time in a long time, David Dahmer didn’t take their actions personally, in fact, he didn’t even notice their acts of fear. His stapled paper bag, filled with pills (sugar pills he assumed were the real deal), broke through the air around him. The momentum of his swinging arm propelled him forward faster and faster, glee filled him.

After accidentally scaring the living daylights out of the average, everyday citizens walking the streets, David arrived at his front door, the lower-level apartment that the Davindale’s so kindly secured for and rented to him. Long ago, David had flipped the peephole in a fit of paranoia. Before jingling his keys, inserting the correct precisely cut metal key, and entering his apartment, David leaned in slowly and watched the stillness of his apartment from the outside. Nothing unusual, no Sasha, no demons, no boogeyman, nothing.

His key bounced into the chamber of the faded fake gold-plated deadbolt, a quick spin and a shimmy later and Tada. David Dahmer walked into his apartment and immediately rushed to the nearest window. A loud squeal yelped out into the scarcely furnished apartment, he had to get some fresh air into this place, it was filled with stale, dull air. The rush of outside air quickly attacked the stagnant thick air that formerly lived with extreme comfort since the last assault of fresh air yesterday.

Methodically, David opened his stapled bag of pills and prepared his weekly pill holder to receive the allotted dosages permitted for each day. Sunday, two Lithium, four Xanax, one Effexor. Monday, same. Tuesday, same…need I continue? David had no clue, nor a reason to have a clue, that he was loading up his next two weeks’ worth of medications with sugar pills, false hope, nothing but darkness and despair. A plastic labelled pill tray that all but invited Sasha Walker back into David Dahmer’s life was being topped off with imitation medication.

As time does, the clock ticked away. Before the unsuspecting David realized what was about to happen to him, he began to feel a little less balanced than he had for the last two hours. Spending all his happy time filling medicine trays with imposter pills, airing out his nauseating apartment, and fixing something to eat, something normal, not human, David noticed a slight twinge in his psyche.

Now, David Dahmer was no stranger to twinges or odd occurrences, but there was something odd about these, something was different. He didn’t know this, but his last real dose of Lithium was wearing off and all hell was about to break loose. As he calmly looked at his small, outdated television, his eyes were blinded by visceral images that only the vilest human would be delighted to see.

In between spurts of the channel three news anchors informing the viewers of incidents around the area, visions of delicately prepared human organs, finely seasoned human kidneys, fresh baked marble cake topped with strawberry fluff icing, not forgetting the cherry on top, human eyeballs, optic nerve still attached and all. David tried to control the downward spiral he was sliding into, deep breathes, slow exhales. It was pointless. He ended up white knuckling the arms of his lone lounge chair, his fingers digging in deep, through the foam padding covered only by a maroon coarse fabric.

Rising to his feet, knees clunking into one another, David stumbled towards his medications, hands full of torn maroon fabric and foam from that old school single seater he used every day to watch television. Each step invited more devilish images of suffering, maddening images of agony, stomach turning images of hollowed human carcasses. Slowly but surely, David worked his way closer to the medications that he knew would save his life, remove him from this world of terror and deliver him back to the world of whistling birds and singing crickets.

As your narrator, I am telling you that this moment in time was the turning point in David Dahmer’s life. Putting trust in anyone other than yourself is a foolish action. Every-single living thing on this planet has an ulterior motive. As long as you know that dear reader, you still have a fighting chance in this shitshow we call life. The devil never sleeps, and God died a very long time ago.

David reached his pill container and popped Monday open so hard that the capital ‘M’ cap went flying across the living room. In the movies, the camera would fade from the main character, slow motion would begin, and the entire screen would fill in with a huge blue ‘M’ spinning ever so eloquently. That is symbolism at its finest. The ‘M’ represented the loss of control, the beginning of the end, the struggle to regain control of reality.

Having a deep feeling of ‘this is going to make things better’ pushing him along, David popped what he thought was his second dose of Lithium into his mouth. He chewed the sour white pill vigorously and ran to the gooseneck sink, the nicest standard appliance in his apartment. With his mouth sucking, in went the cold water. David swallowed easily one entire gallon, panic-induced drinking.

In the middle of swallowing the tap water that washed the burning of the fake Lithium pill down his throat, a soft succession of knocks floated through the air from his front door. He hadn’t made an excessive amount of noise and certainly didn’t cause any reason for someone to come around to check on him, but that didn’t change the fact that the soft knocking continued to float through the thick, stale air.

With no further action available to David at this time, he had absolutely nothing to lose by answering the door. Stammering his way to the wooden door, he caught himself from falling to the ground with a quick hand smashing through the drywall to the left of the door. That ruckus didn’t deter the knocker, the unannounced visitor.

David pulled his hand from the interior of his wall, something he would have to fix or risk losing his security deposit, and slowly opened the heavy door. You already know who it was, I know you do, I have faith in you my dear reader.

With a hand on her hip, there stood Sasha Walker. Wearing the same black clothes as before, donning the crooked black mascara, fluttering her steak knife fingers, she had returned and now was the time to pay up on the debt that had been due since failing to bite the bus driver’s ear off as instructed, “Howdy, Davey!” Sasha blew a kiss that hit David directly on the lips.

Falling backwards, David Dahmer was officially watching all his marbles become lost. Six days and twenty hours separated him from being saved, his next appointment with Doctor Winchester. A human being that is out of control can do an astonishing amount of damage in six days and that is exactly what was about to happen.

There was nothing on this planet that could prevent what was about to happen to David. His fate, his destiny, was all but sealed by the devil himself. Perhaps the devil was a female, Sasha Walker maybe?

David Dahmer had a date with Sasha Walker, he was just now realizing it. This unfortunate date was courtesy of Jack and Wendy Davindale, David’s pseudo guardians since his older brother was captured and presented to the world as the Milwaukee Monster. I would call this a tragedy but I’m here to tell a story, a cautionary tale of lies, deception, and terror.

Hell on Earth was now David’s home. The neurons inside his skull sparked and panicked looking for the associated destination, the way a normal brain works. There would be no reciprocation to the initial sparks, his brain was officially rewiring itself and preparing to wage war on the innocent people of this town.

David Dahmer had officially entered into the darkness.


Sasha Walker, with her low-cut black blouse, pushed her way past David Dahmer with her non-knife fingered hands and strolled confidently, dare I say, devilishly into his apartment. There was no way she was here in his apartment as a pure coincidence, Sasha didn’t believe in coincidences. Everything happened for a reason, everything had a cause and effect, “Davey, what’s the plan my man?” Her red lipstick was smeared all over her visually sharp teeth, had she been eating something or someone prior to visiting David?

Even in his deepest darkest level of fear, David still found solace in the fact that Sasha’s face was not melting from her skull. Even with her face intact, David continued to have still framed images of his mother burst before his face, the way her lips had melted into thin lines of scorched meat. The way her eyeballs were smoked over, that is, the parts that had not oozed from the conjunctiva still rang deep inside of David’s soul.

While watching David trip out, certainly knowing exactly what was happening to him, Sasha began to clang her finger knives together. The metallic sound echoed through the partially furnished apartment, attacking David’s ears, snapping him temporarily from his photo album of horrors, “Break free David. Accept the images, let them in, just relax. Everything is going to work out. I’m not going to kill you, I’m just going to hurt you for breaking our deal, for not accepting my ultimatum on the bus.” Releasing a spine-tingling laugh, Sasha continued, “Hell, I’ll let you choose where I hurt you, any body part, it’s your call. Just get ahold of yourself, this is your life now, fighting will not help, fighting this is like picking at a scab expecting it to not bleed.”

He didn’t know this, but David was about three percent away from having a panic induced seizure. With each shuffle of the grotesque pictures in front of him, David’s blood pressure continued to spike. Much more of this would certainly result in a myocardial infarction, there was little doubt about it. While approaching a critical moment, fighting off a heart attack, David’s body suddenly popped, literally and figuratively, and he paused, stoic and calm.

Rubbing her hands together with glee, Sasha couldn’t disguise her pleasure, “There he is. Welcome home David Dahmer. Jeez, is it hot in here or I am getting turned on right now?” Slowly walking circles around our now powered-on psychopathic David, Sasha strutted confidently at her success, at her conquering of David, “I do believe it is time to have some fun. You need to go see Jack and Wendy, the sooner the better, they can guide you. If you agree, I promise I will not hurt you…today.”

David’s eyes did not waver, his head remained hanging and limp, tears dropped like melting wax as it impacted the carpet under his feet, “I’ll go right now. Don’t hurt me or I am going to hurt you, I’ll kill you. You don’t want to mess with me, I am not of this world anymore.” Patting his pockets slowly, methodically, robotically, David ensured he had his wallet and keys. His trip back to the pharmacy did not require either of those items, however, in his current state, David couldn’t afford to lock himself out of his apartment.

Sasha was pleased, she didn’t even try to hide her successful smile, “Good. I’ll go with you Davey boy. Maybe we can make some love when we get back, nasty, wet, smelly love. I think we can do that, you might even like it.” The feeling of controlling another person, someone with their own freewill, is wildly intoxicating and apparently erotic to the sinister Sasha.

After confirming he was in possession of his keys and wallet, David opened the door to his apartment, a faint squeal cried out, as he waited for Sasha to remove herself from his humble home. As she moved past David at the threshold of his apartment, her hand grazed the crotch of his denim-covered member, gentle fingers seductively slid across him, a slight tingle danced up his body but that was all. He was officially zombified, all he could do was follow the directions of his controller now.

The two walked slowly in the direction of the Davindale Pharmacy where Jack and Wendy would graciously lead David under a false sense of hope. David didn’t know this, but he would have been better off just staying in his apartment, locking the door, and handcuffing himself to the furnace or some other immovable object that would be practically impossible to escape from. This situation was not his fault, but fault is objective.

Side-by-side with David, Sasha reached down after their hands bounced off one another and interlocked her soft, gentle fingers with David’s callused hand. Her pristine nails, sharp and maintained, contrasted dramatically with the chewed down fingernails that lived at the end of David’s fingers. The majority of his fingers had bleeding sores burning from constant nervous nibbling. Sasha did not care; David was her puppet now.

The soccer moms and late-night workers populated the sidewalks, rushing around accomplishing errands before they had to go to work or grab their kids from school. The numerous twisted faces David and Sasha received was astonishing, they all knew David, his background, and where he had come from, the family he came from. Sasha proceeded to flip the bird with her free hand as she aggressively clamped her other hand hard into David’s. No one, not a single person, paid any mind to her flipping of the bird.

Less than a block away, David had yet to say anything significant. He had locked the onslaught of wretched images deep into his brain. Gone, for now, were the pleasant images of a happy life, all hope was almost lost. David was still trying to save himself, following Sasha’s instruction to get to the pharmacy and allow Jack and Wendy to help guide him back to the light, fix this irreparable damage, and save David from the darkness.

Gently rubbing her fingers across David’s swollen knuckles, Sasha continued to travel with him as the pharmacy’s glass door came into focus. David increased his pace ever so slightly, accidentally bumping into a teenage girl with a sloppy ponytail and torn jeans, “Watch it Dahmer.” The teen turned to face David and Sasha as her body became consumed with rage, teenage rage that came and went sporadically.

Taken aback but still locked in on his mission, David couldn’t care less about any of these people out here, “Fuck off kid before you get hurt.” His vicious growl seemed to stamp out the fiery angst building up in the teen as she turned and jogged away, looking over her shoulder every few seconds to ensure David Dahmer was not following her.

Sasha pulled the heavy glass door open as she led David inside the Davindale Pharmacy. He stood tall as the darkness followed him closely. Jack Davindale was ready and waiting as Wendy finished filling a little old lady’s arthritis medication. As Jack approached David, thoughts of curiosity entered David’s mind. What did an eighty-year old’s intestines look like? Was there much difference in appearance between an eighty-year old’s stomach when compared to a teenager’s stomach? David made up his mind at that moment to do some hands-on research later on, curiosity killed.

Jack was smiling cordially as he met David and Sasha at the front of his store, “David, my dear boy, you look…different. What’s the problem? What can I do for you?” Jack’s pulse raced with excitement as he peeked back over his shoulder and winked at his wife. Wendy chuckled a bit while she handed the old woman her paper bag of pills. This was the moment Jack was waiting for, old lady Jenkins had been a nuisance to the pharmacy for decades. Today, her tyranny would come to an end.

Passing by David who was brooding with anger, Jack locked the door as old lady Jenkins approached, trying to exit so she could get home to her fourteen cats, “Excuse me, you all are being extremely rude. Let me by, show some respect for your elders.” That was all it took, one quick blurb from the old lady and Jack was able to turn David on, activate him like a machine to do his bidding.

Grabbing David’s shoulder, Jack whispered into his ear, “Now.” That was it. That was how all of this began. The beast had been released from its cage and it was insatiable. A one syllable word accompanied with a lack of medications was all that was needed to cause David Dahmer to commit his first killing. David would soon find out the answers to his questions, you remember, the old versus young intestines’ appearance and all that.

David struck eighty-six-year old Ms. Jenkins, twice widowed, over the head with a heavy closed fist. The sound of vertebrate compressing and cracking rang out through the pharmacy. Releasing a slight whimper, Ms. Jenkins fell to the ground, paralyzed from the powerful blow. Jack looked up and into David’s eyes. He handed him a folding pocketknife, open and shiny, sharp and clean. No verbal instructions were needed. It was bred into him; he knew what to do and he knew how to do it.

The white tiled floor soon flooded with crimson as David opened Ms. Jenkins’ abdomen, careful not to cut too deep and ruin the dissection. Unable to move, unable to cope, Ms. Jenkins shrieked a hollow yell that fell on deaf ears. No one would save her now, she was already dead, the fact that she was still breathing was merely a formality.

Jack and Wendy stood proudly in front of the crouching David as he continued to shuffle through Ms. Jenkin’s body, like a child rummaging through his toy chest looking for the missing Lego block needed to complete his masterpiece. At some point during this inquisitive search, Ms. Jenkins finally succumbed to her injuries and passed on to the other side.

David looked up at his “friends” as he took a large bite from a steaming liver, “Needs a little pepper…you should try some.”

We are going to leave this scene for the integrity of this work with David holding out a warm freshly harvested liver to the only two people on this planet that he trusted. The two people that had betrayed him. The two people that had ghoulish plans for the new David.


The last thing David Dahmer remembered was a small, precise prick on his neck, out went the lights shortly thereafter. Time traveled quickly, when you are asleep and comfortable, time always skates by with the quickest of intentions. It seems that days had passed by; it was Wednesday now. David couldn’t uncloud his brain to figure out what day it was he had fallen asleep and who this strange woman was lying next to him.

Her black blouse was draped over the only piece of furniture in David’s bedroom, a half size mirror crudely attached to a six-drawer dresser. A pair of black pants dangled for their life on the bedroom doorknob. No panties, socks, or bra were within eyesight, did you really think this young lady wore that type of stuff? Using his quick analytical brain, David deduced that the naked woman next to him was the infamous Sasha.

Looking over, brain fogged like he was hypnotized, David confirmed that indeed, Sasha Walker was face down with her bare ass up still asleep on his bed. Streaks of black sporadically skidded all over the pillowcase; mascara had that effect on fabric. A few streaks of make-up didn’t bother David, it was the blots of red that had, undoubtedly, soaked through the bedspread and into the mattress that covered the stained mattress cover.

The previously white mattress cover and light bed sheet that went as a pair were covered, spotted like a leopard, in thick blotches of red copper smelling spots. David inspected himself, ensuring he was not wounded, as his memory was very hazy, to the point that he could not remember even climbing into the bed. Sasha rolled on her back as she shifted in her sleep, nude on top of the blood-covered sheets, her breasts had handprints of red all over them, a clear sign that something had happened that David did not intend on happening, nor did he have the slightest recollection.

While David tried to wrap his head around what appeared to be a vicious sexual encounter with Sasha Walker, he began to inspect himself, perhaps he had been injured. There was so much blood all over the bed, something dramatic had to have happened. Signs of old David came out as he wondered if his bed sheets would turn to a nice, blended hue of pink once he had the opportunity to wash them.

A very strange feeling hit David, it should have been more remarkable earlier, but it was just now setting in. He was completely nude; his clothes were nowhere in sight. If there was one thing David Dahmer did not do, it was sleep in the nude. There was nothing more vulnerable than a naked sleeping man. What if he happened to wake from a deep sleep and only to have to fight off an intruder or something along those lines. He looked over once more at Sasha, specifically the drool that was slithering down her face from the corner of her mouth.

Pulling the thin bed sheet from under Sasha and wrapping it around his naked exposed body, David stood and began to examine his apartment. What had happened here, there was so much blood, the entire place had different variations of red streaks all over the place? Sasha was left for all the world to see, spread eagle, breasts on display but that was the last thing on David’s mind. The fact that he couldn’t recall anything from the last twenty-four hours was horribly unsettling. Off to his pill tray, where he hoped reality could be wrangled back into place and life would make a touch more sense.

Almost in a panic, David lunged for the pill tray while trying to remain as quiet as possible to avoid waking Sasha. The meds would need to kick in before any rational conversation could be had with that devilish woman. Never looking up from his objective, Tuesday and Wednesday’s pill tray toppers were quickly popped open, and the handful of pills were deposited into his mouth. As he tilted his head back in a natural pill inserting motion, that is when David noticed the gruesomely disfigured body lying on his couch.

For David, it was near impossible to translate who that was on the couch, the mangled skeleton of a human that rested still as a statue. The body, destroyed and dissected, looked like an elaborate Halloween decoration instead of what it really was, a formerly alive harvested human being. This was when David noticed the layer of blood covering his pale skin, the palms of his hands were stained with blood. Tiny pieces of flesh lived under his fingernails, the very finite pieces of fingernail that there was to live under.

Slowly approaching the body that had already ruined his couch, the second largest piece of furniture in his apartment after the bed, David shook with fear. Trembles danced up and down his arms as his knees fought to keep his astonished body upright. What in God’s name was happening, how was life turning so quickly? He chewed on his pills, Lithium, Xanax, and Effexor, forgetting that Effexor was a capsule full of small medicine balls. His mouth filled with hundreds of spec sized balls as a frantic search for saliva took place.

The stale smell that normally inhabited David’s apartment was replaced with that of copper and a thick sweet smell that he just couldn’t quite place. Not one person on this Earth would assume that a dead human body would emit a sweet smell, similar to chewed up hard fruity candy, old people candy, but that is the odor it produced. Within five feet of the grotesquely gutted dead body, David entered a mental state of curiosity. He wanted to know who this person was, desperately.

There was a problem, David soon realized, because the body did not have any identifiable characteristics. Now wishing himself awake, convinced he was in some horrid nightmare, David began to have flashes of his attack. The quick jabs of violence punched at his brain as he recalled the incident at Davindale’s pharmacy. The stealing of Ms. Jenkins’ life, the blade that poked holes in her as if she were nothing more than a sheet of loose paper, the precise incision he had traced from her voice box down to right above her vagina.

David’s mouth began to salivate the way it would if he was about to vomit, pictures of Ms. Jenkins’ spleen echoed through his frightened brain. The taste of raw, watery meat coated his mouth, the feeling of fibrous strands slapped at his tongue as he traced his teeth. His heart sank as his kill was confirmed. Jack and Wendy had witnessed his visceral disembowelment of Ms. Jenkins. Even though they were his friends, acquaintances for decades, it wouldn’t be long now before the police showed up at this apartment, taking him into custody, leading him to the same fate his older brother had suffered.

There was no getting around it. Jack or Wendy, one of them or both of them, had to have taken action in regard to this incident. No amount of cleaning could clear this place of the bloody evidence, no number of tears could save him from the gas chamber, nothing could stop the actions of the past from having serious consequences on his future. David was nothing more than a younger version of his serial killer brother, his fate had always been set, it was just a matter of time.

Tears welled from his wide eyes as he compulsively rubbed his hands against the bed sheet he still had wrapped around his naked body. The more the dark red blood rubbed off onto the bed sheet, the more it seemed to spread. He was making absolutely no progress in cleaning anything; he was merely making it worse. His existence was simply making everything worse.

If this was going to be a survivable situation, David felt he needed to get to Jack and Wendy, eliminate them before they had more time to tell the violent tale. At this point in time, freedom was the priority. A mistake had been made and more mistakes would have to fill the void of time if there was going to be any hope of not ending up incarcerated for decades awaiting a needle full of bleach or an airtight room full of white phosphorus.

As David’s brain entered overdrive and he convinced himself that going to the pharmacy was the right thing to do, a shuffling bounced down the hallway from his bedroom. Sasha had finally awakened and hopefully, she had some sort of idea on how to help our hero determine what to do, that’s what he was wishing at least.

David was at full tilt, panicking at the very edge of consciousness, “Sasha! Help! Come out here now, please come help!” He was pacing circles, looking from the desecrated corpse of Ms. Jenkins and back at his pills. It was just a matter of time before they finally kicked in and life would begin to level itself out. A stumble and a chirp and here came Sasha.

Naked as the day she was born, Sasha emerged from the bedroom, body on full display, “What is it David? I was sleeping so well.” Her body was tight, smooth. Her sun deprived skin was blotted with blood, just like David’s. She reached back, grabbed two handfuls of hair and pulled the hair tie from her wrist over the wad of hair. If this were any other sort of situation, David would most certainly have become exceptionally aroused.

David stood in the middle of the living room, clutching the bed sheet with one hand and pointing at the red skeleton of Ms. Jenkins with the other. Sasha smiled as she teased her body while model walking down the hallway, “Davey boy, you don’t remember? You should, it was exceptional. Stop freaking out, it’s all good. Let’s go see Jack and Wendy, after you fuck me like you did last night, of course. I haven’t been fucked like that since the night before my uncle moved out of my parents’ house and to another state.”

David let that last line soak in, very ‘Fight Club’-esque of her. There they were, both covered in blood and practically stark naked.

That was the answer though, they both agreed. Get to Jack and Wendy, make a plan, and see where to go from there.


Still stark naked and not looking to cover herself any time soon, Sasha stood in the middle of David’s living room, hands on her hips, as the bloody skeleton of Ms. Jenkins rested stoically on the couch David had purchased at the local thrift store. Poor guy, he had to carry that couch all by himself eight blocks, everyone was too scared to offer help, not to mention end up inside of his apartment where they thought all sorts of mischievous actions took place.

The burning of the chewed-up pills in David’s throat was extinguishing itself as he stared at a naked Sasha. He was not accustomed to nudity, especially female nudity. As a teenage boy would do, David pretended to not want to look but he simply just couldn’t stop from taking in the deliciousness of her smooth, curvy body. For a woman that went around causing trouble as a hobby, Sasha had an amazing body, almost too amazing.

Erotic and all, there was still a terrifying disfigured body lying on the couch next to David, he would soon find the skin that belonged on the skeleton hanging up in his kitchen, a very personalized suit some would say. I know for a fact that you will not believe me, but David was able to get Ms. Jenkins’ skin detached from her body in one entire piece. If this were a normal human action, David would be the Guinness world record holder.

Sasha was ready to get this show on the road, move onto the next plan of action, “Davey boy, we need to leave, we need to go see Jack and Wendy. Are you prepared to confess and see what God has in plan for you?” She approached the door, the hardwood door that led to the outside world, and prepared to let herself out as she ushered David with a wide arm. David immediately noticed the problem; they wouldn’t make it ten feet without being stopped by someone.

With an awkward quiver in his voice, David attempted to address the issue, “Sasha, it might be a touch cold outside. You may want to cover up, you know?” Diverting his eyes, David would rather stare at the red ball of Ms. Jenkins then awkwardly soak in the beauty that was Sasha.

In the most fleeting of moments, Sasha disappeared from view and reappeared fully clothed and ready to roll, “Let’s go, Davey. We have to figure this out, this is basically urgent. Now, since you called me out for being in my birthday suit, how about you ditch the bed sheet and get yourself together. We don’t need any extra attention on us, we have a dead body right here.”

Acknowledging the factual evidence Sasha had provided, David took himself down the hall and dressed himself in fresh clothes, jeans and a t-shirt. It wasn’t until he was approaching the front door with the impatiently waiting Sasha guarding it that David noticed the huge piece of skin hanging from the fluorescent light in the kitchen. The linoleum was covered with small, splattered spots of blood underneath the slowly fluttering sheet of human skin, “What the fuck…”

David looked to his unwanted partner as befuddled as he had ever been, waiting for some sort of explanation. Sasha smiled and shrugged her shoulders, “you said you wanted to try out an idea you had. Seems like you did pretty damn good. Let’s go.” Sasha looked through the bar cutout that led to the kitchen and nodded with a certain fulfillment that only an absolute psychopath could contain.

A long fillet knife rested on the counter, black handle with a rust spotted shiny blade. That had been the tool used to carefully remove the skin from old Ms. Jenkins. It worked well on the fish David had caught when he picked up the hobby a decade ago, but you would be amazed at how well it worked on the human body. Like a teenage boys’ fingers through the pants of the head cheerleader of the school, that easy.

Not feeling the emotions that a normal person would feel, David stopped staring at the flesh blanket airing out in his kitchen and went to Sasha, still picturing her nude and luscious, “Jack and Wendy, let’s go to them, I’m ready.” With a content smirk, Sasha agreed and opened the door to an ear-piercing shriek. The two exited the apartment containing the body of David’s first victim, but certainly not his last, not by a long shot.

The trip to the pharmacy, the Davindale Pharmacy, seemed to pass by faster than ever before. Obviously, it was the same distance away, but the urgency instilled inside of David motivated his expeditious movements. Deep inside of his changing brain, the light for normality still flickered. If Jack and Wendy could possibly increase the dosage of the medications or reverse whatever had caused this uncharacteristic outburst of violence, things would be alright.

The sidewalk was busier than normal for eleven in the morning on a Tuesday. The human seas parted though, as David and Sasha rushed to the pharmacy in need of an immense amount of help. One child was brave enough to not move from David Dahmer’s path. He was so tunnel visioned that the small child was merely a speed bump on the path to sanity. The child’s arm was stepped on so hard that it twisted and popped in a manner that yelled out ‘Pediatric Surgery!’.

A large, burly woman lunged from the crowd, “That is my child, Dahmer! You just injured my child you monster! You are no different than your brother!”

Just as David turned around to react to the manly woman’s harsh words, the woman that was more concerned with yelling and cursing at David than her screaming, crying child lying on the sidewalk with an arm that flailed about during the frantic child’s terror, someone grabbed his shoulder and yanked him backwards. The heavy, glass door slammed shut and clicked into a safe locked position. David turned to see Jack Davindale standing behind him.

Wendy rushed to the door, hearing the screaming and crying, and looked out. She was nosey and any sort of drama instantly drew her attention. Jack, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with anything that didn’t directly affect his life, “Dave, you gotta be more careful buddy. Well, you probably earned me a new customer at least. What’s happening, are you alright?” Jack adjusted his brown thick glasses, securing them deeper on the fat bridge of his nose.

Sasha roamed around, even going behind the medical counter looking for something, probably oxys. Wendy clutched her mouth with a frail hand as she hemmed and hawed at the sight of the poor little boy with the broken arm or torn ligament, whatever it may be. She didn’t want to see horrible things, but there was no way she would peel herself away from the window, basking in the glory of the horror and drama. She couldn’t get enough. This was her cocaine, her crack.

The treacherous Jack Davindale didn’t wait for an answer from poor David. He proceeded back to his workstation while David stood, brooding in the middle of his store behind the locked glass door. Wendy followed shortly after, as soon as the harmed little boy was out of sight. The telephone rang out, Wendy grabbed it hoping to spread the news of the injured boy and increase her social popularity. It was just a customer calling, no fun there.

Jack Davindale stood tall and proud behind the pharmacy counter, carefully inventorying a pile of orange flat pills as Wendy served a customer via telephone. The two of them looked up from their individual tasks as soon as David approached them after snapping out of his walking coma. Jack mumbled, “Close enough,” as he moved the mountain of pills into a guidance slot, topping up the prescription bottle they were destined to inhabit.

The three of them huddled close by, waiting for David to murmur something that they could work with. In their heads, Jack and Wendy, they had made lists of people they would like to see murdered in the most gruesome ways possible. Once David broke the silence, they knew it was time to motivate him with evil intent. There was not a single ounce of shame in either of their bodies. They just wanted to wreak havoc on the city that had allowed them to live out their lives there.

The top of Jack Davindale’s list, Sheriff Peter Miller. It was time to get revenge on that ticket-writing, investigatory man.

“Thank you for that Jack. I don’t know what got into me,” David said as he fought the darkness that had built a nest deep inside his brain. David was clueless, vulnerable, but he had come here under the illusion of false hope.

Murder was on the menu, that would fix all of his problems, at least, that is what Jack Davindale intended to sell to him.


With a borderline zombie like David Dahmer at his disposal, Jack Davindale marveled at the endless possibilities that were now filling his devious mind. Similar to grocery shopping while starving, you tend to over purchase, logic vanishes as gluttony abruptly pushes its way in. Wendy watched her husband while she nodded her head as if the customer on the other end of the line could see her.

Neither Jack nor Wendy paid any mind to Sasha as she rummaged through bottle after bottle behind the counter; they were too focused on setting David up and sending him out on his next mission, “David, my boy, what’s wrong? Let me help you. Just explain the problem and I’ll give you a solution.” Jack was a pure son of a bitch.

David’s eyes danced to their own erratic EDM song, more scattered than his brain waves were at the current moment. Cold turkey (and unknowingly) coming off of highly dependent pills that literally rewire every electrical wire your brain had hooked up in a very specific order is a terrible thing. Once the process has started, a consumer would find it very difficult to combat and survive the ordeal. This is where our David Dahmer found himself right now. Standing in front of someone he thought was his ally in this civil war to end all wars.

The entire environment changed quickly; this tends to happen when a serial killer’s relative inflicts a significant injury upon a small child. Before David could even gather his thoughts to enlighten Jack Davindale, a loud succession of thuds bellowed through the interior of the pharmacy. Jack looked up and immediately set a plan of action in place, “Oh shit, well, fate is funny sometimes.”

At the locked glass door, pounding away, may I present to you Sheriff Peter Miller, the newly appointed Sheriff of this indescribably spec of a town. After defeating Sheriff Eric Holden in a very tight electoral race, Sheriff Miller went on to set procedures and precedents that were not so local friendly. The rich got richer, legally or not, and the poor vanished, at least when it came to any sort of political or legal assistance. The Davindale’s fell into the latter category, and I’ll be damned if they did not take that absolutely personally.

After receiving multiple uncalled-for fines and summons to the local courts, Jack and Wendy came to the quick realization that they either had to do something about this new Sheriff or they were going to have to leave town kicking and screaming, a town they had basically helped establish. Sometimes, life and circumstances just fall in your favor. Thank God they took care of young David Dahmer when all that Milwaukee Monster talk began.

It’s terribly funny how things work out sometimes, good or bad, there is always some sort of hilarity involved for someone. Sheriff Miller continued to knock incessantly, determined to either gain entry to the pharmacy by annoying someone so much that they unlocked the glass door or until his rapid hard knocks caused some sort of physical defect to the integrity of the glass. That would be rather hard to explain considering he was just here to get to the bottom of what happened with the child. Behind the Sheriff, red and blue lights danced through main street, reflecting and refracting off anything that would receive it.

David, standing aloof in the middle of the pharmacy, didn’t bother to even take notice of the Sheriff’s determination to speak with him. He was far too busy fighting his own brain to worry about issues that didn’t concern him, “Jack, something terrible has happened, I killed someone, I think.” With a forehead covered in thick cold sweat, David waited for Jack Davindale to solve his problem, to let him know that he was not a murderer, that everything he had seen was just his brain playing tricks on him.

In a quick turn of events, Jack smugly acknowledged David, “David Dahmer, the little brother of Jeffrey ‘The Milwaukee Monster’ Dahmer, I am sad to inform you that you indeed did kill someone, Ms. Jenkins to be exact. You will continue to come to my pharmacy every day until I say otherwise. If you do not do exactly as instructed, the camera above the door mindlessly captured your devious act.” Jack raised his hand and pointed to the dust coated camera as it oscillated on a fifteen-degree radius.

A wicked chuckle harmoniously balanced itself with the constant knocking of the Sheriff. No, it wasn’t Jack or Wendy laughing, of course it was the diabolical Sasha. She had located a blank white bottle filled to the brim with oxycontin. The damn girl was eating them like Pringles. ‘Once you pop the top, you just can’t stop’. Between laughs, an oval scored pill flew through the air, propelled by her flicked wrist, and landed in her wet open mouth. It would have been disgusting, had David not envied her so much.

David froze, his stomach performing somersaults, his mind boiling over with disdain. Nothing would change the attack that Jack had just launched on David’s psyche. He now knew his entire life, what was left of it, was in the hands of an electronic surveillance camera installed inside of the Davindale pharmacy. The two people he trusted the most on this planet had now officially confirmed that they did not have his best interest at heart. Along with this gut-wrenching heartache, Sasha was smacking her lips, clearing the white residue from the oxys she had just consumed.

To put a pin in this entire situation, Jack looked David clear in the eyes, smiled, and whispered to him, “You are going to unlock that door, let the Sheriff in, and kill him. Just like you did with Ms. Jenkins. If you don’t, I am simply going to let the Sheriff take you away for her murder and we will be done with all this.” Jack patted David’s shoulder, not sincerely, not at all, but he had made his intentions rather clear.

Wendy, Sasha, and Jack all stared at David, that ‘what are you going to do’ sort of stare. There was a decision to be made and judging by the now hollering Sheriff pounding on the locked glass door, that decision had to be made expeditiously. David was gutted, heartbroken, “Are you yanking my chain? Is this some sort of joke because it is not funny? Jack, please, tell me this is a dream.” Tears streamed down David’s face as the smallest amount of logic escaped the war inside of his head.

Sasha let off another raucous laugh as she had wandered over to the feminine hygiene section of the pharmacy, “Look at this Davey! It’s a lemon scented douche! You want to taste some lemon later.” She abruptly gestured with her hands how she would use the lemon scented douche and then made a grotesque face while pointing at her vagina.

The childish tone Sasha had attempted to insert into the tense situation quickly faded as Jack unlocked the glass door and welcomed the angered Sheriff into his humble pharmacy, “What can we do for you, Peter?”

The Sheriff almost literally had smoked spouting from his ears, you know, like in the cartoons. His face was a deep dark maroon as he attempted to calm himself to make his proclamation, “I’m here for Dahmer, now get out of my way Davindale!” Jack stepped aside but also turned to look at David. Their eyes met, the choice was his, whatever happened from this point forward was completely in control of David Dahmer.

The Sheriff, in all his raging glory, stormed past Jack right towards David, “Listen here Dahmer, you are coming with me, like it or not. You hurt the Anderson kid, broke his fucking arm. It is time to get you under control before you have a chance to turn into your brother. We will not have another monster around here, not as long as I am the Sheriff.”

With a somber face, David looked up, stared directly at the Sheriff as he stomped towards him. The time to act was now, Sasha knew that as she slid a scalpel into David’s right hand. The blade, clean and new, fit the shape of David’s hand like it entered this world with him from the womb. The answer was clear, clear enough in the short amount of time David had to weigh his options.

There wasn’t much time to decide but the decision came easily and quickly. Sorry Sheriff Miller. Sometimes shit happens and it happens horrifically, at least this incident.  


When a human faces off against a monster, things tend to not go the human’s way. We, as humans, are excitingly strong people, but a monster, a monster is on a whole different level. Similar to a knife being compared to a rocket launcher, when a monster wages an attack on a human being, every possible outcome has already been calculated and carefully dissected, making the possibility of success almost a given. What’s more efficient than a monster? A human that has been turned into a monster.

David Dahmer was the human monster to end all human monsters. With other humans pulling the strings, he was a violent juggernaut that couldn’t be stopped, not by anything on the face of this planet. Sheriff Peter Miller, armed with a taser and pistol, was merely a simple human that didn’t know the feeble appearing man standing in front of him was the monster that hid in the darkest corners of his brain, waiting for the Sheriff’s attention to take a slight stumble.

Jack and Wendy Davindale stood close by as the Sheriff positioned himself in front of a now engaged and switched-on David Dahmer. They had every intention of using David to eliminate their numerous enemies, the people that had done them wrong in the past, the people that could pose problems in the future, the people that they simply didn’t like. It’s time to wage war, a Dahmer versus the list of foes the Davindale’s had composed.

The hustle and bustle outside of the Davindale Pharmacy had drawn almost all of the attention of the folks lingering around. A hurt child always drew an abnormal amount of attention, lots of words of advice or sympathies. While Sheriff Miller stood at the locked glass door, pounding and growling to his heart’s contentment, the crowd that had gathered outside didn’t pay much attention to him when their minds could be filled with sensitive thoughts of a poor little child being terribly trampled by a prolific serial killer’s little brother.

No one had paid any attention to the Sheriff once he was allowed entry into the pharmacy. That certainly played well into the hands of those that wished him harm, wished him immense suffering, wished him to be removed from this world. David stood with a height advantage of a few inches towering over the Sheriff standing face-to-face with him. The Sheriff did have a sizable weight advantage, as well as the upper hand when it came to weaponry. That is how humans would have analyzed this situation as the fight seemed to be relatively even.

The brand-new scalpel that Sasha had slid into the open palm of David as the Sheriff approached with wonderful thoughts of arresting and prosecuting a serial killer’s little brother, a man that the entire city had assumed would soon fly off the rails at some point in time. The time had come, the time to install a sense of calm over the city by getting David Dahmer off the streets for an unforeseeable amount of time, “Dahmer, you’re coming with me. Don’t worry, we will make sure you are snug as a bug in a rug, well, after I beat on you to make sure you understand what pain is, the type of pain you just freely handed out to that poor child outside.”

As Sheriff Miller began to wind down and conclude his authoritative speech, poor guy didn’t have a clue that his chances of survival had dwindled down between ‘An act of God’ and ‘No chance in hell’. The scalpel in David’s hand shimmered through the air while being propelled with an unstoppable force only a monster could provide. David ‘Monster’ Davindale. We’ll come up with a better nickname later, for sure.

It is hard to understand an almighty creator that would make one of the human body’s most dangerous areas so delicate and susceptible to damage. The human throat is the central living zone for all human beings. You breathe through it, your spinal cord is there, your jugular vein is also present. A scalpel has the ability to cut a human hair into two pieces, long ways. Imagine what it can do to a fleshy area of the human neck. Wait, you don’t have to. I’ll tell you.

Sheriff Miller knew he was fucked as soon as the glimmer from the scalpel caught his eye, we are designed to know when we are beyond fucked, when the reaper is going to come and grab us by the collar and yank us away into the ether. He reached for his sidearm, a Kimber 1911, but his fate was sealed, sealed with a kiss from a three ninety-nine pharmacy home use scalpel. He did manage to withdraw his trusty flat black Kimber and disable the safety with a flick of his thumb, when the razor-sharp blade of the scalpel entered two inches below his left ear, the Kimber discharged a round. This was not his intention; it was merely his body reacting to the fact that it just discovered that death was the only result of this altercation.

The scalpel entered the jugular vein of Sheriff Miller like pushing your finger through wet toilet paper. Jack was so close to this incident that he was splattered with warm, thick blood spraying from the Sheriff’s neck under an abnormal amount of pressure. In fact, Mr. Davindale’s glasses were shot from his face, tattering to the filth covered tile floor that would soon be infected with the blood of the Sheriff. Small specs of crimson lived on the pharmacy floor, Ms. Jenkins’ blood, it is hard to comprehend the level of coverage when the human body evacuated all of its life juice.

Wendy took cover from the pressure-backed spray as David removed and quickly reinserted the scalpel; the Sheriff was now a dying fireman’s hose with multiple leaks. His firearm ejected two more rounds, one striking the floor next to David’s foot and the other hitting the Quaker Oats man between the eyes. If he were real, that may have caused an impact on this situation. Don’t fear dear reader, Uncle Ben and Aunt Jemima were safe due to the public’s outrage at their existence as logos many years ago.

This may seem like too much gore for a literary work; however, I am doing my best to tell this tale without cheapening it by listing every single little detail. I know what I am doing, just like how David instinctively knew what he was doing. It was bred into him, violence, killing, cannibalism, all that good stuff. Just hang tight, there is an adventure in here, I promise you that.

This was now David Dahmer’s second kill, not his last but this one still represented what his life would evolve into. Jack and Wendy Davindale, as long as one of them were still alive, would continue to manipulate David, forcing him to execute anyone they deemed worthy of an absolutely abysmal fate. Sometimes you’re the bat, sometimes you’re the ball. Life is tough but crying about it won’t do anything about it.

Sheriff Miller dropped his firearm, surprisingly not resulting in a negligent discharge, and his body soon followed. Lying in a pool of his own blood, the Sheriff was nothing more than a soon to be cold hunk of meat to be sliced apart, carefully wrapped, and stored in David Dahmer’s deep freezer.

The public outside was none the wiser as to what was taking place inside the Davindale Pharmacy, the crowd dispersed shortly after the little boy with the broken arm was taken from the scene by his helicopter mother. Once the drama was removed from the situation, the general population couldn’t care any less, there was nothing to see, nothing to spread around to their friends, the chance of having a unique story to tell had vanished along with the hurt little boy.

Jack walked up to David as he removed the fantastically agile and murderous scalpel from Sheriff Miller’s throat, “Good boy, David. Good boy.” He patted David’s shoulder, a true sense of sorrow filled the air, just for a brief second. Wendy watched Sasha stroll through the condom isle of the pharmacy, filled with all the different styles and colors of trojans, it even had its own shelf dedicated to personal lubricants. How kind of them.

David Dahmer stood over the dead but still bleeding Sheriff, his face was unchanged, stoic, frozen at what he had done. Thoughts of regret and shame were ancient as his mind’s transformation was something of the past. Now that the metamorphosis was complete there would be no more delays or moral dilemmas, David Dahmer was officially ready to make a run at his older brother’s record and see if he could make it into the top ten without getting caught or killed in the process.

With Sasha by his side and the Davindale’s pulling the strings, David would have an upper hand during his murderous rampage.

Let the games begin.

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