Hello to all of those curious bastards who want to know how a broken mind works. lets get this shit out of the way before we begin, yes, there will be entries to this diary of mine and yes it will get graphic! If you don't have the stomach to read about torture, murder and the consumption of some piece of shit pedophile or rapist, then simply close this page and have a glorious day. if you do want to know more..... then lets do this shit!
First of all, hello, my name is Vincent La'Binnac. I will tell you that, yes, i am a cannibal and no, I don't just kill anyone. As i said above, I generally go for pedophiles and rapists because, if you think that you wouldn't kill someone who would hurt a child, then you are fucking lying to yourself.
Next, let me explain a little about sociopaths. We are different from psychopaths in a few ways but the most important for this first entry is this; Sociopaths do have a conscience and we can feel emotions. I don't know for sure if it works for every one but i can simply hit the emotional off switch and like a light, it just goes dark in my mind... pure logic is all that's left.
They say that sociopaths are just hot headed, that psychopaths are the emotionless, logical ones but as far as i know, no sociopaths were performing the study distinguishing the difference (though I have never been diagnosed but I DO feel... when I choose to) I have a family, a wife to be and an almost 2 year old son and I honestly and truly love them both more than life itself.
I have cried at movies, there are songs that bring a tear to my eye... but yes, I kill people and eat them. Don't get me confused with the likes of Ted Bundy or Albert Fish, they were scum. Killing innocent people for whatever they decided were justifiable to them... but then again, I justify my actions in such a way that I feel I'm doing what I feel is good for humanity by removing the rot from the tree of life. Eh whatever, I'm a terrible human who is acting in the best interest of humanity.
Now for the good shit, the stuff you are here for, assuming that you are still reading... but where do I start? should I begin with my first victim and my first taste of human flesh? or should I just skip all that and jump right to the most recent victim (I'm currently digesting a finely cooked half rack of ribs with a side of mashed potatoes and steamed green beans in a garlic butter sauce)
I'll start at the beginning I suppose but before I do, please don't compare me to Hannibal Lector. That character glorifies the cooking of human flesh in some culinary bullshit and I am nauseated by it. He was a great character for what he was but he was like the superman of psychopathy, he had the ability for every situation and I'm going by the movies as well as the show.
Okay, with that out of the way, let me begin.
It was 2002 and I was about 16, my best friend was a black belt in the local Tai Kwan Do dojo and it became something of a hangout for me during my angsty teen years. It gave me a place to let out some frustration and attempt to figure out why my mind worked the way it did. My friend John, he knew I struggled with fitting in and understanding my emotions (or lack of at times) but we were never quite able to come to the conclusion that I was a sociopath, that realization came to me a bit later. But the day you want to hear about was in the early fall of 2002, my freshman year in high school. I had just left the dojo to walk home, like I usually did and again, as I usually did, I walked down an alley between two buildings downtown that led to what was just referred to as the "iron stairs" when someone stepped out of the dark and stopped me.
I noticed him immediately, it was a kid who bullied me at school named Thomas. He smiled at me when he realized I was alone and before I could react, he punched me in the side of the head, knocking me to the ground. I remember laying on the ground, dazed while he said something but my ears were ringing from the blow so I didn't hear him.
I remember him stomping on my chest a few times and I almost blacked out. Now, I have always carried a pocket knife and that night was no different, without thinking I took it from my pocket and flipped the folding blade open before burying the knife in Thomas' calf.
he screamed and fell to the ground, screaming in pain while I laid there panting, trying to catch my breath quickly so I could climb to my feet and run away but he recovered before me.
he was still in pain, my knife still stuck in his leg but he rolled over and jumped on me with his hands around my neck. I don't remember exactly what happened next but the result was me biting down on his shoulder and refusing to let go. after a bit of fighting, he shoved me away, the chunk of flesh still in my mouth.
he was bleeding everywhere and turned to run but when he stepped on the leg with the knife in it, his leg gave out and he fell, caving his skull at the bridge of his nose. he was dead almost instantly. without thinking, i swallowed the chunk of meat in my mouth and just sat in the dimly lit alley, staring at the body and searching for any sign of life, his body rising and falling with a breath, a groan of pain.... anything.
well, for my own personal security (and freedom), I'm not going to tell you what I did with the body but he has never been found and that taste, that beautiful, coppery warmth haunted me for quite some time.
I was always an interesting person with a dark sense of humor but when I got home and was in the safety of my bedroom, where my father couldn't see the blood that covered me, I changed and cleaned myself up.... then I laughed. I laughed my ass off. i didn't exactly plan it but I killed Thomas, and as days turned to weeks and then months, as the missing persons case went cold and people seemed to lose interest in his disappearance, I felt this need to do it again.
I found myself hungry but no matter what I ate, in a way I was never full... think like when you have a craving, say you are fucking losing your mind with need for a slice of pizza. you eat something else and get full but you don't FEEL it... it filled you up but it didn't satisfy you... that's how I felt. it was such an amazing taste and I needed it again... more, I thought about what I could do with the meat. I thought about the chunk I took out of Thomas and couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like if it had been cooked.
And that is the story of my first "kill" and taste of human flesh. I know, not the most glorious, it was sloppy but it was the first step towards making me who I am.... or rather help me realize who I really was.
Now, before I bring this first entry to a close, I want to explain one more thing. I know you think I'm a piece of shit and if i cared, I would probably feel bad that Thomas lost his life that day but if I'm being completely honest, I don't regret a single life that I have taken. Thomas was a 'happy accident' I suppose you could say. everyone after him, though the first few were sloppy, each kill was justifiable to me in that they were terrible people. one was a man who had molested my younger sister. She told me in confidence and boy, did she pick the right person to tell huh? haha
Another was a senior in my high school who had raped a girl at a homecoming game. She was seen running away with torn clothes and there was evidence that he had done it... but I got to him before the police, filled my freezer with him and nobody was the wiser because my father was a hunter and had venison in the freezer so it wasn't hard to hide the thigh and back straps that I cut from him. though looking back, my butcher skills sucked back then. And the internet wasn't exactly something I had much access to because we didn't have a computer at home.
Basically, it was a slow process of learning but i have since mastered it and damn, its as much a therapy as a delicious hobby haha But that is my 'Origin' story I suppose you could say, and that will be where I conclude the first entry of this little online diary or whatever you would call it. now that all this is out of the way I will be able to start talking about more modern exploits.