Page 32 of Sincerely, Butterfly

On the way down, I start to wonder when the whole shock-of-taking-a-life-thing is going to set in.

Because I feel no guilt. None whatsoever.

Does this make me a sociopath?

No, because I do care about people, such as my mom, my dad, the guys, and Skittles of course.

The idea of ever hurting one of them makes me sick.

But Scarlett? I couldn’t care less.

If I’m being honest, I actually enjoyed it. I loved watching the life drain from her eyes, the warmth of her blood seeping over my hand, and the way her body dropped as I ended her life.

She thought she could take what belongs to me. And I wasn’t going to stand there and allow that to happen.

I’m so fucking sick and tired of people treating me like I’m nothing. I don’t care if people like me. I don’t want anyone's approval. But for people to go out of their way to make someone else's life miserable, to treat them like they’re nothing but shit on the bottom of their shoes… it’s demeaning and uncalled for.

People like them will never change. Even if you stand up for yourself, they can’t stand someone challenging them.

Maybe it’s better to just get rid of them completely. It’s not like people are going to miss a self-centered bully.

You and I both know I just saved the world from having to expose themselves to the likes of her.

No one will miss her.

Okay, so maybe her dad. But that's about it.

And what did he expect? His daughter was out here literally signing her life away to be used as some depraved sex toy.

Not that I have much room to judge. If I had the chance to be in her position, I’d have done it too.

But we’re not talking about me.

I keep the lights off until I get down to the basement, where the crematorium is.

A lot of the morgues my dad owns are more modernized, but this one is one of the oldest in the city.

It has that creepy, dark, and sinister vibe. I love it. I have ever since I was a little kid.

I’ve always been fascinated by death. I was four when I saw my first dead body. Mom came to bring Dad lunch one day, and I was with her.

Mom left me upstairs so she could go take the food to my dad. Of course, I didn’t sit still and snuck downstairs, following her.

Dad was in the middle of doing an autopsy, and I saw everything.

Mom freaked out, Dad looked shocked, but I just walked right up to them and, like any little kid would, I asked a million different questions.

Mom ended up leaving me with Dad to watch him work, and that's how I started coming to work with my dad until I was forced to spend my days at school.

I still came in after school and on the weekends, though.

There’s something about the quietness of this place that always settles me.

I might have agreed to attend college, but if it were up to me, I’d just come here and begin working with my dad right away.

He did agree to let me take over one of the morgues once I get the proper education.

To become a forensic pathologist, I have to get a degree inmedicine.Waste of time if you ask me, I already know pretty much everything I need to know.