Inside The Mind of a Murderer

I wrote the following piece from the point of view of the murderer in my forthcoming book. I wanted to explore the motivation of the killer to make it believable to my reader. This was solely to inform myself of the antagonist’s mindset, which I found helpful when I was moving up the story arc toward the climax.

I’m putting it in my newsletter, but not in the book.  Hopefully, it gives my followers some clues the general reader won’t have when reading the book, but not enough specific clues to pinpoint the murderer before the climax.

glass jar in a hand with light surrounding

Today was the last straw. I refuse to suffer any more humiliation at HER hands. I’m sick of being under her thumb. She has berated me in front of others for the last time.  I’m not even safe at the grocery store. Don’t ever forget your check cashing card and make her wait in line!

Alexandria likes to be the center of attention, the star in her own little psychological drama. She’s been this way as long as I’ve known her. Hell, she was born this way. Imperious like Catherine the Great, only Alexandria the Great, so she thinks. I’m going to bring her down, Alexandria the Not-So-Great.

Do this, she says, and people do it. Everyone at her beck and call.

Next time do it right, she says after they’re done.

She rolls her eyes, shakes her head, sneers, always with that superior look on her face

How many years have I lived this way? The continual grinding down of my spirit. The destruction of my soul. She’s robbed me of everything I’ve loved most, even my self-respect. Her actions have destroyed our family. All I can do is pick up the pieces and try to move on. Alexandria’s venerable façade is like the shiny skin of an overripe avocado hiding the putrefied flesh inside.

She loves her garden. She’s always boasting about her award-winning landscape and her magical flower beds. I’m going to turn flowers into black magic.

I’m going to choose a plant, a beautiful flowering plant that’s highly toxic. I’ll buy it from the garden center using cash. Even if the cops figure out what plant I used, they won’t be able to trace it to me.

 I’m going to distill the toxins, put them in a small plastic bottle, saved from the meal kit delivery service.  I’ll extract the poison and filter it in my own kitchen. I don’t need a chemistry major or a scientific lab. I’ve found an herbalist’s book that tells me everything I need to know about making tinctures and elixers. Extracts of aconite has been used in traditional medicine to reduce fever associated with colds and pneumonia, for pain and inflammation, and for certain heart problems.  The pages gave specific instructions on how to make an alcohol-based tincture with a bold warning. WARNING:  Aconite is a highly toxic and poisonous plant. Use only from a reliable source and in extremely small doses.  I’ll just quadruple the recommended dose.

I’m going to choose a very public place, her starring moment, judging at the county fair. The queen of gourmands. She’ll ingest the poison and die before an audience. She’ll die doing what she loves best to do—eat.   The Queen Judge. Critiquing and never finding anything up to her standards.

I’m going to slip it into a pie at the county fair. So easy. Pause and pour before the judging begins. No one will notice because no one ever really sees me.

 No one notices me when she presides….