Ready to go

          Twilight closes in around me, encapsulating all.  The light fades to a desaturated gray.  I sit quietly and alone on the damp ground, staring at the tomb-stones.  1... 2... 3... I count them as I stare.  The hardy brown-green vines creep along the mounds in the ground, past the mud and over the rocks, stopping by my shoes.  I cut them today before I began to dig.  Their sticky sap still sits on the tips, mixing with the wet dirt in the air.    4... 5... 6... The latest grave lies to my left, freshly dug.  Number 7.  The 7th friend I've killed.  I thought and planned for weeks.  Maybe months.  I've fought the cold desire inside myself for years with this one.  Almost exactly 4 years.  They're gone now.  I took care of that.  I watched with clouded, tear filled eyes as the picture in my head ripped apart.  The others I deleted earlier that day.  I didn't realize how strong the compulsion would get when I started.  I never thought today would be the day.  My therapist tried to convince me to wait.  Maybe she thought if I waited, she'd have time to make me stop - to cure me.  No more killing, no more death.  I guess she was wrong.  Here we are again.  Sitting alone, in the cold, damp mud, with my cold, dead eyes - a listless shell.  If I have no friends, I know I'll stop.  It's better this way.  This way, their souls will be free.