Daniel plucked the eyes out of the corneas with a spoon. According to him, for the memory. The girl was already dead, and that bothered Daniel because he felt he should have done it sooner. When she kicked and cried, and pissed herself. Our debut in the art of snatching life was like an unpolished poem, it didn't shine bright enough to satisfy my accomplice. I know he urgently wants a second attempt.

The van was loaned to us by a friend of Daniel's, a guy named Chuck, a guacamole and Doritos-loving pig. The guy owed Daniel a favor for giving him an alibi after the rape of a girl scout. Chuck evaded justice, and now waits on his living room couch for more girls selling cookies to ring his den doorbell.

I throw my head back. The ceiling fan spins and spins. I sniffed my fingers, they still smell of cheese and blood, and with the metallic scent emanate memories. I cocked my head to the shelf, to the jar.

Violet eyes floating in formaldehyde, do they see the world differently? I thought they did. That's why I followed her after choir practice and stalked her for days. I even apologized when I deliberately tripped her on the sidewalk. She smiled and combed her hair back behind her ear. I remembered that smile as I cut her off.....

Blood spurts. Violet eyes move trembling, they cry. The gagged mouth is unable to scream. They look at me, recognize me from the sidewalk, silently beg for mercy. Can one read the plea for mercy in the gaze of others? Yes, it is a singular glow, a tremor in the pupil, the exact dilation to transmit the most absolute horror. I continued cutting.

I drew lines from the forearm to the elbow. Cheek. Forehead. I moved up her abdomen ending at the left breast. Chest rose and fell to the rhythm of agitated breathing. She sweated terror. I sliced the nipple. My hands wore red and glitter, rust and Doritos stench. Damn it, Chuck, clean your car.

Daniel dawdled with the sledgehammer. He hit the femur, then the knee, which crunched, and on the third blow a bone popped out to say Hello. Daniel swung it back in with another blow. The guest jerked and I had to tighten the restraints. My friend dropped his pants. I told him I forgot to buy condoms. He cursed and relieved himself with a punch in the girl stomach. Coke and semi-digested popcorn sprouted between the gag.

What a night.

I left the bedroom and in the dining room I found a surprise guest. He reminded me of the boy from the other night, but it's not him. He's paler, younger, blond hair, small nose, white sailor suit. Duct tape keeps him from falling off the chair.

"How is Tiara?" Daniel asks, facing the sink and with his back to me.

"I don't know. I hardly ever see her anymore"

"I can't wait to get my teeth into her. She's a little older, yes, but she's still pretty. She reminds me of my mother... Don't forget the condoms this time"

"Shall we go now?"

"Sorry. Busy"

"Where did you get the kid?"

"I rescued him from a hole. What kind of bastard buries a perfectly usable child? The world gets crazier every day"

Daniel's heating the oil in a sauté pan. He's cooking. He never cooks.

"I'm going to see someone" I revealed.

"It won't be your weirdo friend from the internet?"

"No. He lives in Venezuela"

"Well... I'll save you lunch. And get some good hand soap, my fingers stink of Doritos"

I nodded and left the apartment, rambling in my thoughts.

Why admire another person? It is common for a man or woman to have an example to follow or praise. It can be a teacher, doctor, scientist, composer, writer, film director, and so on. They are usually people with ideas or stories that have managed to bury themselves deep in the sentimental vein of those who look to them with hope. They have something that those who drool and applaud lack. Call it intellect, money, or power. Admiration is the cute sister of envy, because when we can't be anything but mediocre, all we have left is to cling to the superior. It is not our fault. From birth you are told and instructed to be the best version of you, and that version of you is, shall we say, practically unattainable. Besides, how can you be sure what it is to be "better" and "good"? Such a definition changes with times and societies. A decent man from the conservative Middle East stones an adulteress. A decent man from the progressive West applauds the adulteress.

My case is a separate issue, because when everything looks opaque and morals are of little interest, it is necessary to dig deeper into the mud to find the person who pushes you and forces you to ask questions. In the same way that many praise Gandhi or Martin Luther King, another majority applaud the names Stalin or Fidel Castro.

Sharpen. Cut. Press. She cries. GO TO SLEEP, whispers a voice in my head.

A week ago I found a website tribute to Jeff the killer. The site is called Dime Jeff. I hit it off with the site's administrator. One night, drowsy from five hours of non-stop chatting, I confessed to her that my friend and I gouged out the neighbor's puppy's eyes. She asked me how much I enjoyed it. I replied that I enjoyed it very much. Nina was happy for me and sent me the address where she meets the group.

The place is here in La Crosse, but I won't tell you the exact address to avoid snoopers. I descended the stairs at the back of the building. On the metal door leading to the basement, the name of the website is written in wild strokes, red letters that weep like sockets into which a spoon is inserted....

I reminded Daniel of Jeff's phrase, he thought it was funny to scribble it on the wall of the storage room. GO TO SLEEP... That at this hour bad children play, and a white face haunts my every step.

GO TO SLEEP... That the specter wants to take your place.

A ring of chairs, only five people, six counting me. Nina takes place at 12 o'clock; A random guy on my right, in a cheap clerk's suit; The veteran in military uniform two chairs to the left; My geography teacher sits to Nina's left and made as if we were strangers, a gesture I replied; A fat guy with a dark beard takes place two seats to the right of the hostess.

Nina is the same age as me. She wears a lot of makeup, not to look beautiful but to get closer to her idol, her face leaves behind the ultratomb pallor and goes into the style of black and white photographs, with thin red lips like rose petals breaking the monochrome; Her hair ends in an inky ponytail; She wears garish purple clothes and long orange-striped stockings. Nina flashes a big, unnatural but true smile.

"We begin the thirty-second meeting of Jeff's Club. Welcome, my princes" it was an affectionate nickname. The squeaky bell voice reminds me of a babysitter's tone. "We have a new guest today. Say hello to Josh"

The others greet me in sync, none of them sounding animated.

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"Josh contacted me about ten days ago. We chatted a lot, learned quite a bit about each other. I could almost swear we're soul mates" she looks at me. Everyone looks at me. Including the pale face floating in the background that no one else seems to see. "You know I'm very careful about bringing in new partners, so don't be suspicious and be open. He's like us, a maverick. From what exactly? You know he tends to vary"

Her gaze travels clockwise.

"Work. Society. The country. The family. Even the simple fact of living is often a source of dissatisfaction. We are unhappy, that's a mistake. Jeff was the same way. But he found the answer in suffering, his own way to happiness. There is an answer! That's the key phrase! Repeat after me"

There is an answer! I clamored out with the others, feeling like an idiot. But Nina was somewhat right that we are a society of unhappy people.

"To understand what I'm saying, you need to hear and learn Jeff's story" she says, then looks at me. "Do you understand, Josh? Little is known about him, the police want little to be known. Thanks to some friends of my father's, I was able to obtain privileged information. Pay attention"

I nod. She begins to count.

Jeffrey Allen Woods. Birth: April 3, 1986. Son of a conventional marriage. Brother of Liu. Middle-class family with no great joys or sorrows. The father got a promotion and was transferred to Wisconsin, which led to the family moving to a suburb of the county. Jeffrey's school records reveal that he had good grades, although he always fell into fights with bullies. One event that set off several alarm bells was when a boy ended up stabbed in the arm during a fight that included him and his brother. The police investigated, and Liu decided to take all the blame. The prosecution, taking into account Liu's age and lack of a prior record, was lenient, sentencing him to half a year in corrections. The event greatly affected Jeff, feeling guilty, saying that he was the one who stabbed the bully and beat the rest. He was distracted in class or sometimes fell asleep in the middle of a conversation, hinting at insomnia problems.

A fortnight later a suburban boy's party was held. Jeff was invited. His mother urged him to attend, believing that perhaps it would improve his mood. By eyewitness accounts, Jeff got along well with the other children. Until the same trio from the fight with Liu burst into the backyard of the house. One carried a gun. A gunfight ensued, though no one died from gunshot wounds. The ringleader of the group died from a blunt force trauma to the chest area, Jeff's knuckles scarred into his skin. Another bully was knocked unconscious. The last one got into a fight with Jeff that took them all the way to the bathroom of the house.

"They were showered with alcohol and bleach from the shelves!" Nina exclaims as if recounting an event from the bible and jumps up from his chair. "But... "She lowers her face and voice as she places both hands on his chest. "One had a lighter and the other didn't... My prince ended up being the lucky one. Suffering burned away the veil and he could see the truth, he could be free"

I imagined the scene. The alcohol burst into flames and the chemist went into the craters opened by the heat. Desperate screams. Faces of astonishment. The child of alcohol and lye is born from a wave of fire.

"Jeffrey ended up in the emergency room at The Sacred Heart Hospital in Tomahawk" Nina continues. "He was unconscious until the end of the year" she adds and sends for a small rolling table with a TV and VHS player on it. "I got the tapes a couple of months ago. Don't ask how. A girl has her contacts and secrets"

"Is it legal to tape patients?" I wanted to know.

"Because of the problems the country has with the communist threat and the terrorist wave, everything is recorded here. Of course, in secret so as not to scare away those who think we live in a free society"

Communist threat... At this point it sounds like something Mr. Burns would say to Smither.

They pull the tape in and the monochrome image dances with the static before stabilizing. There is no sound. It shows a patient sitting in a hospital bed, his face bandaged up to his neck. A nurse and a woman, whom Nina points out as Jeff's mother, sit waiting.

Jeff keeps his head down, his body hunched over and his hands clenched into fists. He remains in that position for long minutes. Not much else happens, just the sight of a broken young man.

Nina changes the tape to one from a week later. The family (Except Liu) gathers to see the state of Jeff's face. As the bandages are cut and fall off, the horror is apparent in the visitors' expressions. The burnt lips are a pair of shadows; The immaculate skin like a blank sheet; His straight brown hair mutated into a tangle of black shag; The flat face and the lousy quality of the video, turns his face into a white blob oblivious to all that is human. The mother bursts into tears on her father's shoulder, the father on his side shudders. The nurses look incredulous at what they see, exchange glances with each other, one of them runs to call a doctor, another brings a hand mirror to the boy who insists on seeing what he looks like. Facing his reflection, Jeff shudders, then throws his head back, his shoulders dropping and rising, his mouth wide open to the rhythm of muted laughter due to the lack of audio. Nina pauses the video just at the frame where his face looks most inhuman.

Is it normal for it to end like that? I asked, and Nina said no. it's a miracle, and goes on to explain.

"He went crazy. He needed urgent psychiatric care... Maybe even to be hospitalized. But the father said no, and bribed the hospital to take Jeff away. Disfigured and demented, the Woods wanted their little boy back. Very sweet... That same night my prince used a knife to carve himself an ear-to-ear grin, burned his eyelids with a lighter, and finally murdered his entire family. He sent them to sleep forever"

"Why did he do it?" I asked.

"What?" Nina blinked repeatedly, as if puzzled at being questioned.

"Everything"

"The smile? Maybe to always be cheerful. The eyelids? Perhaps he loved his new face too much and longed to admire it without interruption. The murder? There are hungry demons in the human heart that cannot and should not be controlled. But in the end... What do I know? I'm just a fangirl"

The big bearded man takes the small table with the TV. Nina resumes her words.

"It is normal that little by little a strange sensation invades us, that almost seems random and leaves you with many doubts. Say emptiness, say impulse, say the need to feel satisfied and satisfied with your life. Be born, grow, reproduce, and die. We are not animals, it takes more than that to complete us. Sometimes what we need is not pleasing to the world. But it doesn't have to be, the important thing is that we feel good and free with ourselves"

Each one had their turn to tell their dissatisfaction, and explain the answer they believe is ideal and unique to definitely quench the thirst that blackens their days and is not quenched with water. The veteran is eager to kill the immigrants and their defenders, he calls them leeches who flee from countries in ruins to suck the blood out of their own from within? Surely if I knew Daniel I would take a dim view of him because of his Latino heritage, and even more so my friend from Venezuela. The veteran plans a killing spree at a Walmart, and we all wish them luck.

The wage earner complains about work, saying that he has been turned into a machine with no ability to think or have an opinion, trapped by the shackles of salary and debt, those that bite you in the teeth as soon as adulthood begins. Rent, bills, taxes. Locked in a cubicle until his eyes melt from the monitor's radiation and arthritis causes him to be replaced by another, younger, equally disposable robot. He wants to shoot himself, so the veteran gives him a glock.

It's my teacher's turn.

"I can't resist. Images fly into my head, in my dreams, when I walk in the park, while I'm eating lunch or taking a shower. It tends to vary... Sometimes it's a car, or in bed in my apartment, even where I work. It might be a coworker, or my sister, or my aunt. I smile contentedly... I want to be happy.... But it's so... Inappropriate. It's a sin. I don't... I don't feel ready"

"No pressure. It will come out when it should" Nina says, and sweeps her eyes back to us, preparing to deliver another lecture. "What we do is not corruption. It is filtration. It's assimilation and release of our inner demons to achieve wellness. Enough of hiding behind the masks of morality imposed by people no more talented or better than us. Let us abandon emptiness, let us feel full. Purification, enlightenment, Nirvana... That is the answer that must be reached at any cost. Only then will you be happy. Happy like Jeff. And when it is time for you to sleep forever, you will leave this plane without regrets"

The meeting ends.

I arrived at Daniel's apartment. The aroma of freshly served beef and vegetable stew greets me. The little sailor from the morning is gone, replaced by a balding, paunchy little man with a broken nose, wearing a T-shirt with a dark sweaty collar and underpants reeking of semen. Duct tape holds him still in the chair.

"Hey, Chuck" I greet the pot-bellied man.

"We'll burn the truck with him" Daniel warns as he sets me a plate of mashed potatoes and broth with beef squares. He wipes the blood from his knuckles on his apron. "Not beside to him, with him"

"I got it the first time. Did you talk to the police?"

"Not yet. But you'd trust this scum?"

"I just trust you" I affirmed, poked a square of meat with my fork, and popped it in my mouth. Chewy.... Greasy, mushy and bitter. Tastes terrible. I looked around, "Where did you put the kid?"

"Bon Appétit" he replies with a magazine smile.

It didn't take the police long to drop the case of a pedo turned to charcoal. I'm sure they even applauded after hearing about it. On the other hand, the case of the student decapitated with a paper guillotine received more attention. The culprit was caught, and the school needed to find a substitute for my geography class.