Cherry Blossom Diaries - Chapter 2 (Akemi's Confession)

*Editor's Note* This is a magazine of confession's and testimonials and we accept and try to read all submissions. One of my staff put this one in my mailbox with a sticky note that simply had a question mark on it. Upon reading, I completely understood why. I pondered whether this was suitable for our publication and after much personal debate, I ran it. We do not try to pass judgement, but this woman's maniacal actions and disdain for humanity are certainly an exception to our few rules. Oddly enough, shortly after deciding to run this letter, there was a report of a death by "unknown circumstances" and it left me to wonder if it was this woman. Read her submission and judge for yourself.

~Ayame Douzan (Editor in Chief)


Dear CBD,

If you do indeed run my story, if this letter even reaches you, I apologize for the fake name and address. After you read this, I hope you will understand why I had to take these steps.

My name, for this purpose is Akemi. I like that name, I think it's pretty. The name I was given is ugly. I would like to say that there was nothing wrong with my upbringing. I had a happy childhood, both parents loved me and there was no trauma that exceeded anything that any other child would experience. If I am somehow found out, I do not want my family blamed for my misdeeds.

All of this stems from my image. I never thought I was beautiful. As a matter of fact, I was pudgy into my twenties. All of these things that we Japanese women are supposed to be, I was not. The only boys that took interest in me were all unpopular outcasts themselves. I met my husband when I was 26, he was a very kind soul. He had a modest career, but his family was wealthy and well connected. He saw my despair over how I looked, but he thought I was beautiful as I was.

I did nothing about it for the first year. However, I know him and his asshole friends were paying those whores at the hostess clubs just for their time. "Sit with me and keep the money coming. I'll tell you that you fascinate me, shove the body 30 other men helped pay for in your face and fuck you if you pay my rent." Idiot. I started talking to plastic surgeons secretly. I scheduled surgery after surgery and slowly became what I always wanted to be. He noticed at first. He loved my fake tits, the new slender body.  Then he stopped caring.

I didn't understand. What was I not doing? I looked like his whores, but his interest was barely fleeting... Then the money that I was spending to look good for him became an issue. Days, weeks at a time he'd yell at me for trying to look good for him! Can you believe that? It became too much. I left for a bit, but eventually went back. After a few days of passion, it just went back to how it was. I was in the tub soaking one night and he came home from one of his clubs. He was drunk, but upset. I got out, put a robe on and asked him what was wrong. In his drunkeness, he admitted that one of his whores told him she was pregnant. Something snapped.

I stormed off in disgust. He followed, acting like I was just supposed to be okay with this. I don't remember all of the argument that ensued, just that he said the bitch's name several times. My rage grew, but then there was calm. I thanked him. He didn't understand, and his puzzled, drunken thoughts were the last ones he ever had. I'd picked up a bottle of liquor and bashed his skull in. The hole in his head, the blood, it was arousing and cathartic... When the bottle finally broke, I stabbed him with every shard I could grasp. I was caked in his blood and when the influx of all those great feelings wore off, I began cleaning myself off and then I packed my things. I took his car and pulled over to use my phone. I went online and found the slut in a directory. She was next.

I wasn't going to prolong it, I just wanted her gone. Along with my belongings, I'd taken some knives. When I arrived at her home, I was careful to make sure there was nobody around. Desolate. Perfect for me. I rang her doorbell, she answered, and got a blade jammed in her throat. I watched her die, didn't say a word or move a muscle. It took longer than I expected. My problems were gone after that. Him, his whore and the child who died within her.

I jumped from motel to motel, figuring the police would be looking to talk to me. I'd left his car in front of her house to throw them off. Me and my few belongings weren't much to haul around. Then I was on the subway a few days later. Some fucking hotshot stuck his hand up my skirt and I felt that urge come back again. I just looked back and smiled and led him to where I was staying. We fucked, but it was horrible, he was a selfish lover. I would be his last.

After I'd cleaned up and redressed, he was ready for more. I'd had enough of him and his ego, and I climbed on top of him like I was gonna give in. I smothered him with a pillow. Again, an act that takes longer than is portrayed on TV. I continued on this path for some time, monitoring TV and the internet and changing my appearance any time even the vaguest description was released.

I would steal their money, valueables, bank cards, whatever I could to keep me going. I was shopping one afternoon and I bumped into a monk on a street corner. I apologized, but he looked at me funny. I asked him what was wrong and he backed off. He told me to get away, that I had an evil aura about me. I told him to get lost and he said that it was me who would be lost...

The man's words started resonating more and more. First it was nightmares, then noises at night. I keep hearing the voices of my victims, even that fetus cries in my head. I've been starting to develop injuries that I have no reason to have... What have I done?