I know what you did.
Yes, I know what, and where, and when. And soon, the world will know as well. They’ll stand up and take notice because these words I write will expose you for the monster you are.
Words.
You used words to poison my mind. First you told me what you were going to do, and then you showed me, made me participate, all while you poisoned me with your words. I assumed there was no use telling anyone. No one cared, after all. No one would believe, especially coming from me.
But you were wrong, because I found someone who knows. Or, rather, he found me. He’s been watching you, waiting for you to make a wrong move and he says I can help. He says if I do this, you’ll never be able to hurt anyone else ever again. He smiles at me and I can almost believe him. I want to help. I want to put a stop to what you do to people. Undeserving men, and women, and even children.
Maybe… Maybe I can help. Maybe there is still some good in me. He seems to think so. He says I can use against you the very weapon you have used on me: Words.
The pen is mightier than the sword; or at least the words written by the pen can be. Even our maker used words. Did he not say “Let There Be…” and there it was? Words are powerful, and I will use my pen for peace and justice. I will write down every heinous act. What, when, and where they can find the evidence.
I hid evidence. Did you know that? You thought you were so brilliant, but I hid something from every crime. And then I filed away the information inside little folders within my head. Folders filled with pictures, and sounds, and smells of the places…
I know every place. Every single one of them. I can barely remember the faces of your victims, but I know each place. I will tell them. I will write them down. And I will hand my words to the man when he returns. And he will help me. He will turn my words against you and I will be free.
Your hold slips as I begin to write the words. My fear of you starts to seep away with every drop of poison that bleeds from within me onto the lines of the page. Dot by precious ink dot the truth is revealed, a truth that has to come from me.
Because I am the only one who knows what I did.