Happier than a pig eating shit, seriously that is how the saying goes, David Dahmer was whistling a fine little dandy song he was freestyling as he strolled down the sidewalk towards the apartment complex he rented from one of the Davindale’s relatives.  Didn’t I tell you that they treated him very kindly and watched out for him?  When one has the big picture in their sights, a couple of decades of kindness is worth all the trouble in the world when creating a monster.

As his feelings of happiness and euphoria slowly waned, David proceeded on, smiling and warm inside, but he still maintained a healthy dose of caution, keeping his eyes moving around constantly, on the  lookout for that tumultuous Sasha Walker.  Our unfortunate hero clutched his paper bag of pills and practically skipped down the sidewalk.  Each citizen he passed scooted quickly out of his way, they scrunched their faces and took deep breaths.  All of them knew David and all of them were very scared that he would snap and decide to take a vicious bite out of their throats or abduct them and dissect their bodies in the privacy of his quant apartment.

For the first time in a long time, David Dahmer didn’t take their actions personally, in fact, he didn’t even notice their acts of fear.  His stapled paper bag, filled with pills (sugar pills he assumed were the real deal), broke through the air around him.  The momentum of his swinging arm propelled him forward faster and faster, glee filled him.  

After accidentally scaring the living daylights out of the average, everyday citizens walking the streets, David arrived at his front door, the lower-level apartment that the Davindale’s so kindly secured for and rented to him.  Long ago, David had flipped the peephole in a fit of paranoia.  Before jingling his keys, inserting the correct precisely cut metal key, and entering his apartment, David leaned in slowly and watched the stillness of his apartment from the outside.  Nothing unusual, no Sasha, no demons, no boogeyman, nothing.

His key bounced into the chamber of the faded fake gold-plated deadbolt, a quick spin and a shimmy later and Tada.  David Dahmer walked into his apartment and immediately rushed to the nearest window.  A loud squeal yelped out into the scarcely furnished apartment, he had to get some fresh air into this place, it was filled with stale, dull air.  The rush of outside air quickly attacked the stagnant thick air that formerly lived with extreme comfort since the last assault of fresh air yesterday.

Methodically, David opened his stapled bag of pills and prepared his weekly pill holder to receive the allotted dosages permitted for each day.  Sunday, two Lithium, four Xanax, one Effexor.  Monday, same. Tuesday, same...need I continue?  David had no clue, nor a reason to have a clue, that he was loading up his next two weeks’ worth of medications with sugar pills, false hope, nothing but darkness and despair.  A plastic labelled pill tray that all but invited Sasha Walker back into David Dahmer’s life was being topped off with imitation medication.  

As time does, the clock ticked away.  Before the unsuspecting David realized what was about to happen to him, he began to feel a little less balanced than he had for the last two hours.  Spending all his happy time filling medicine trays with imposter pills, airing out his nauseating apartment, and fixing something to eat, something normal, not human, David noticed a slight twinge in his psyche.  

Now, David Dahmer was no stranger to twinges or odd occurrences, but there was something odd about these, something was different.  He didn’t know this, but his last real dose of Lithium was wearing off and all hell was about to break loose.  As he calmly looked at his small, outdated television, his eyes were blinded by visceral images that only the vilest human would be delighted to see.

In between spurts of the channel three news anchors informing the viewers of incidents around the area, visions of delicately prepared human organs, finely seasoned human kidneys, fresh baked marble cake topped with strawberry fluff icing, not forgetting the cherry on top, human eyeballs, optic nerve still attached and all.  David tried to control the downward spiral he was sliding into, deep breathes, slow exhales.  It was pointless.  He ended up white knuckling the arms of his lone lounge chair, his fingers digging in deep, through the foam padding covered only by a maroon coarse fabric.

Rising to his feet, knees clunking into one another, David stumbled towards his medications, hands full of torn maroon fabric and foam from that old school single seater he used every day to watch television.  Each step invited more devilish images of suffering, maddening images of agony, stomach turning images of hollowed human carcasses.  Slowly but surely, David worked his way closer to the medications that he knew would save his life, remove him from this world of terror and deliver him back to the world of whistling birds and singing crickets.

As your narrator, I am telling you that this moment in time was the turning point in David Dahmer’s life.  Putting trust in anyone other than yourself is a foolish action.  Every-single living thing on this planet has an ulterior motive.  As long as you know that dear reader, you still have a fighting chance in this shitshow we call life.  The devil never sleeps, and God died a very long time ago.

David reached his pill container and popped Monday open so hard that the capital ‘M’ cap went flying across the living room.  In the movies, the camera would fade from the main character, slow motion would begin, and the entire screen would fill in with a huge blue ‘M’ spinning ever so eloquently.  That is symbolism at its finest.  The ‘M’ represented the loss of control, the beginning of the end, the struggle to regain control of reality.

Having a deep feeling of ‘this is going to make things better’ pushing him along, David popped what he thought was his second dose of Lithium into his mouth.  He chewed the sour white pill vigorously and ran to the gooseneck sink, the nicest standard appliance in his apartment.  With his mouth sucking, in went the cold water.  David swallowed easily one entire gallon, panic-induced drinking.

In the middle of swallowing the tap water that washed the burning of the fake Lithium pill down his throat, a soft succession of knocks floated through the air from his front door.  He hadn’t made an excessive amount of noise and certainly didn’t cause any reason for someone to come around to check on him, but that didn’t change the fact that the soft knocking continued to float through the thick, stale air.

With no further action available to David at this time, he had absolutely nothing to lose by answering the door.   Stammering his way to the wooden door, he caught himself from falling to the ground with a quick hand smashing through the drywall to the left of the door.  That ruckus didn’t deter the knocker, the unannounced visitor. 

David pulled his hand from the interior of his wall, something he would have to fix or risk losing his security deposit, and slowly opened the heavy door.  You already know who it was, I know you do, I have faith in you my dear reader.  

With a hand on her hip, there stood Sasha Walker.  Wearing the same black clothes as before, donning the crooked black mascara, fluttering her steak knife fingers, she had returned and now was the time to pay up on the debt that had been due since failing to bite the bus driver’s ear off as instructed, “Howdy, Davey!”  Sasha blew a kiss that hit David directly on the lips.

Falling backwards, David Dahmer was officially watching all his marbles become lost.  Six days and twenty hours separated him from being saved, his next appointment with Doctor Winchester.  A human being that is out of control can do an astonishing amount of damage in six days and that is exactly what was about to happen.

There was nothing on this planet that could prevent what was about to happen to David.  His fate, his destiny, was all but sealed by the devil himself.  Perhaps the devil was a female, Sasha Walker maybe? 

David Dahmer had a date with Sasha Walker, he was just now realizing it.  This unfortunate date was courtesy of Jack and Wendy Davindale, David’s pseudo guardians since his older brother was captured and presented to the world as the Milwaukee Monster.  I would call this a tragedy but I’m here to tell a story, a cautionary tale of lies, deception, and terror.  

Hell on Earth was now David’s home.  The neurons inside his skull sparked and panicked looking for the associated destination, the way a normal brain works.  There would be no reciprocation to the initial sparks, his brain was officially rewiring itself and preparing to wage war on the innocent people of this town.

David Dahmer had officially entered into the darkness.