I am. A serial killer, I mean. I don't need to kill
or even want to kill, but something takes over and I
have to do it again and again.
It doesn't help to be angry or afraid because I
couldn't stop even if I wanted to. Punishment won't
work because there's only one thing you can do to stop
me, and you won't do it. Strange, because you all say
you hate killing.
Maybe you do nothing because you're blind to who I
really am. I'm beautiful, if you don't mind my saying
so, and a lot of people overlook what I do because of
that. I'm intelligent, if lazy, and a lot of you
think of that as charming. I like you; sometimes I
even love you, and that fools a lot of you into
thinking that's all there is to me. But you look at
me and see only the reflection of your own wishful
thinking. So I kill again and again, and you let me
get away with it.
You think I do it because I want to? I don't. I have
to. I have no choice. Any my victim is always the
same. The innocent, the helpless, the weak, the
young, the unsuspecting. Especially the unsuspecting.
Whatever drives me likes it better that way.
Whenever I see my victims I have to stalk and kill
them, and they die in moments of such savagery that,
if I thought for a single moment I were like you, I'd
be tempted to feel shame. But no matter what you
might prefer to think, I do it and never feel shame.
It's as simple as that.
I take a terrible toll. I kill tens of millions of
times a year. I killed millions last year and
millions the year before that, and I'm killing right
now, today. I'll do it tomorrow and next year and
until the sun grows cold or I run out of victims,
whatever comes first. You could stop me, but you
don't. And won't. In your blind refusal to face who
I really am, you continue to release me into the outer
world where I can pursue my terrible slaughter.
If you want to help me stop killing, don't let me go
free. I don't necessarily want to kill all these
birds and animals, but as I said, I'm a born killer,
and I have to. I'm your cat. Help me."
