I’d like to be a cop, but I’ve got too much on my mind. Cops wouldn’t want me joining up because I’d think too much. It would get distracting. Plus I’ve got too many criminal convictions. The worst one is for rape. I’m on medication now and I see a counsellor. I have people that I have to go see, that’s part of my parol. I used to want to kill people all the time. I was filled with rage and hate. I’d walk around in a daze, seeing red for the whole weekend until someone would fuck me. Then I’d feel calm. I’d feel like I was a part of this world too and I was ok. Usually they were screwed up, ex-prostitutes. One time it was a real nice girl. She’d had way too much to drink, but she was ok. She took me back to her flat, she kept telling me she liked ‘bad boys’. She would say “Ooh you scary bad boy with all your big bad tattoos”. We slept together for a while. I used to leave her house feeling really good, like I was a healthy happy young man. She wanted to have sex louder because the girl upstairs had loud sex and she wanted her to know she was having sex too. I think they slept with the same guy and she was trying to get back at her. She was a nice girl but she slept with everyone. Thats why she was getting a divorce. She’d fuck anyone.

One time I came round to her house and she told me this guy was coming round to take photos of her. I said “Ooh gross, are you gonna fuck him?” and she was like “Ooh no, maybe”. We’re just friends or whatever. She was weird because it was real easy to fuck her, she picked me up, but whenever I was there and wanted to fuck her she’d act like she didn’t want to. I’d grab her and stuff or whatever, some girls like that, but she wasn’t into it. She’d genuinely not want to fuck or something. One time she told me “No kissing”. I kept forgetting. She got really angry, like “NO KISSING!” I’d go “Ok” thinking “What was that about?” I think it was emotional. There was some issue about not getting attached. As if I was gonna get attached to a fucking slut like her.

We didn’t see each other for so long. She didn’t know I’d been in prison for rape. I told her it was credit card fraud. I told her I had a sawn-off shotgun under my backseat. I’d already been in trouble so I got in more trouble. She liked that kind of stuff. It made her feel safe, or dangerous, or both put together. I never was in love with anyone after that first girlfriend. It was just crazies and sluts. Ex-prostitutes who use me to get back at someone, or scare away their last boyfriend. This girl was sick. She tried to kill herself when we broke up. I didn’t tell her anything about me. She was horrible. She went from cute little blonde thing with a nice ass. I used to grab it. She’d be in the kitchen. She had this beautiful ass and I’d see it when she was only wearing a t-shirt in the kitchen. I’d go over, I wanted to bend her over the kitchen sink, I thought that would have been cool. She had a plan for the way she wanted it to go and if getting bent over the kitchen sink wasn’t part of that plan it wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t think that was fair, but she’d still let me fuck her in the bed. One time her husband came round and knocked on the door. She was laughing. I didn’t think it was funny. I’d kill him. When she first had me round to her flat she was like “You better not be a psycho”. I was like “Yeah I am a psycho, I’m gonna chop you up into little pieces”. She was like “Ah ha ha ha” nervous laughing, she was so excited. If I wanted to I could’ve. What the fuck was she gonna do.

- Ben

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