THE MERCI KILLINGS: FINALLY A FINALE.

And finally, Oscar was alone, alone in charge of the world and all its merciless disasters. The forum ran dry, of course, as nobody alive was a member except Oscar. He’d given up on human contact, cleanliness and almost everything that makes a person distinguishable from animal. He hadn’t eaten in weeks, trying to decode chaos theory, having given up on the idea of ‘Oscar as messiah.’ Something you will not have read about in the papers is that upon his body’s discovery, Oscar weighed four stone and nine pounds. Had he lost three more of these units of life, he would have had no need for the razorblade. Four stone and seven pounds is the lowest weight a human can exist at without dying. Just. It is basically the number you find when you add up the weight of every bone, every organ, every tooth and particle of skin. No excess whatsoever - no muscle, for sure.
The ‘Oscar as messiah’ period was so short that it cannot be measured in months. For someone who had been so determined as to kill all those possibly blocking him from utopia, he had given up almost incomprehensibly quickly. The truth is that from a psychological point of view, I believe that Oscar cannot have coped with the guilt of serial murder as well as he wishes us to believe, and would have thus been preoccupied with the baggage of blood on his hands. His suicide note (which we will come to shortly) gives evidence as to why he gave up and turned his hand to chaos theory. This change came almost as a last attempt at redemption, with Oscar writing all manner of equations on everything he came into contact with: bedclothes, work surfaces, and eventually, his own skin.
Many papers have been published on the idea that chaos theory is entirely predictable. It is just that the human mind has not yet cracked the code of nature, which may, in its most extreme form, be able to tell you what will happen anywhere in the universe for all eternity. Perhaps if Oscar had discovered these ideas, however questionable they may be, he would never have resorted to murder, and instead become a brilliant mathematician capable of unlocking nature’s secrets. Sadly, we will never know what could have come of Oscar. I hope you have found this exercise in examination of misinterpretation and the human ego informative and void of sensationalism, and I am sure you will notice it is the only account that deals with Oscar’s tale without glorification of violence, pejorative treatment of mental illness or vilification of Oscar. Oscar was an extraordinary patient, yet one of whose type I hope not to meet again. What follows is the suicide note of Oscar Cornwell. Nothing emitted, nothing added. Purely the thoughts of an intelligent young man who had lost his faith in a world with no true rules. No reasoning as to why bad things happen to good people. And as hard as publishers may try to censor this: a world with no divine leader, no God or any number of Gods, just random acts of violence and fortune. Oscar was trying to find a balance in saturation.

August 12th 2008.

This is me. Everything I am is a miracle, and I would never now doubt that. I wanted to align the unjust placement of fault lines, to cure deadly illness, stop famine and war. But I have discovered, through mathematics and violence, that nothing is under any one person’s control. No individual can change the world. My only effect here is destruction; and though I feel irretrievably disgusted that I killed those people, their and their loved ones’ loss doesn’t affect the world. It keeps turning. Murder is tiny. Genocide is one further, but really, humanity is nothing. It has been said a thousand times and I’ll shall scream it a thousand times more, humans could die tomorrow and the world would not stop, but any other animal, vegetable or mineral and humanity would be fucked. And so, I am making a stand. To a world without humanity. To a world where we do not kill to ‘survive’ without having to. I sign this letter with the blood of my throat in the hope that somebody discovers me, knowing the lives I took and the choices I made and realising that truly, I made fuck all difference to this world, and nobody else will either. Be selfish or care for everything. I love everything from the soil beneath our feet to the black mass our universe expands into. I only wish I hadn’t wasted my single chance on irregular theories and kitchen utensil death. See you never again, because this is my end. Happily never after, Oscar.