“I would have gotten away with to if wasn’t for…”

  • DNA
  • Paranoia
  • Moving the body
  • Returning to the scene of the crime
  • Bragging about it/elaborate lying
  • “I was home alone” – worst alibi ever
  • CCTV

There is no such thing as a perfect crime. The dead always tell.


Rewatching one of my favourite serials: Sea of Souls. A BBC paranormal series that investigates psychic and paranormal activity.

“Prove that I am not my twin” – a fascinating episode of psychic identical twins who were separated at birth and by chance met later in life.

A perfect murder. Because not only did one twin kill the other twin she took over her sister’s life. Making it impossible for her family to notice. Only the dead twin’s friend-a para-psychologist realized too late.

I love a perfect mystery. fictional too.

But this one really irked me. Shoe laces! That is how he knew which twin died! One looped. One crossed their laces!

The investigating team had many chances to have both twins fingerprints/DNA – granted neither were of consent. nonetheless the opportunities were there!

I think I do well with telling twins apart. Knowing other people’s quirks. Well enough to know if someone took over someone’s identity? Nope!

Good grief! I had trouble dealing with my doppelgängers! All 7 of them! I can’t imagine being someone’s twin. Having similar quirks, thoughts, and sharing everything? I don’t even share my food! I don’t even remember my favourites!

It is quite fascinating I admit. Being a twin.

Before I forget. A list of my favourite UK shows from back in the day.


Then there is me:

Don’t touch the knife!

Don’t you dare! It will have your fingerprints on it! You are already a suspect for finding the body Er victim, just don’t touch it!

You touched it didn’t you?

For the love of pink, you idiot!


Leading a normal life.
Ramsai wondered if it was a fairy tale.

She wondered if being married, having children and a house with white picket fence was something just out of reach. It certainly was not for her. Not in her line of work.

How did one start over? Wipe the slate blank?

Ramsai decided she needed a do-over.

She began with her name. She was now Ramsai. With an “i”

She cut off her hair, dyed it lavender chocolate. She bought non-prescription eye-glasses to make her features non-descript. She wore cardigans and tweed, instead of Dior and Armani. She no longer worked out in the pricey gym she frequented four times a week.

Ramsai chose a one bedroom loft in a neighbourhood, careful to avoid her neighbours and draw little attention to herself as possible.
There were times she would catch herself looking over her shoulder out of habit, and she would force herself to look forward.

Most mornings she would go to a nearby cafe to order an Americano. Black. It was a luxury she wasn’t allowed in her previous life. She loved how it tasted, so strong, awakening all her senses. She would take the subway, sitting on the end seat because she hated having people sitting on either side of her. To nowhere in particular, just watching the skyline in the window, blur before her eyes.

Often times Ramsai observed how much her former life had left her little air to breathe. Her chest would constrict, her heart would quicken at the thought of the past. Her fingers curled into fists in her lap. She would never be caught in that kind of horror ever again, she promised herself.

This particular morning Ramsai didn’t take the subway. Finishing her Americano, Ramsai left the cafe and walked home.

The keys jangled in her hand as Ramsai approached her loft. About to insert her keys in the lock, she noticed the scratches. Ramsai frowned. The lock was new, having been installed when she moved in.
The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose.

Someone was in her apartment.
Ramsai hesitated. Taking a deep breath she quietly unlocked her door. The air in the apartment was still, the only noise coming from the aircon, and the steadiness of her breathing.

Ramsai inched across the threshold, pressing her back against the wall before gently closing the door behind her.

“I’m surprised you made it this easy for me to find you,” the voice was familiar and came from the shadows

Ramsai tried to quell the sickening pitch of her stomach.

“I’m surprised it took this long for you to find me.” she was proud of the steadiness of her voice.
There was silence. Ramsai moved slowly further into the apartment.

“I see,” there was a chuckle, “you deliberately lured me here.”
Sunlight poured through the curtains allowed little light.

Ramsai removed her glasses and gently put them on the hallway table beside her.

“You should have left me alone. I wanted a new life,” she spoke.

“Your life belongs to me.” Ramsai could hear the barely controlled rage in his voice. “You belong to me.”

she tried not to let the fear slithering through her overwhelm her. She took another deep breath to focus herself.

“I belong to no one, least of all you”
The floor creaked. Ramsai could feel her muscles tense in anticipation for the confrontation that was about to happen.

“I must admit I almost didn’t recognise you. Your hair is different. You changed the colour. Your clothes. You seriously shopped in a thrift store! I couldn’t believe it! You loved High End! You wouldn’t be caught dead wearing someone’s else clothes” he went on. “Even your apartment,”

he paused as if to reflect upon his next train of thought. “There is nothing about you here. No furniture. No pictures. Remember your penthouse in Indiana? That was something. You loved expensive things. Now there is nothing but cheap crap.”

He stepped into view.

Ramsai froze trying not to shrink back against the wall. She tried to steel herself against her fear. against nausea as memories assailed her.

Memories of them together. Being his mentee, being his lover, then barely surviving his betrayal.

The rage seething in his eyes made the irises dark as his pupils. He was unkempt as if he hadn’t slept in months. His clothes hung off his skeletal frame, the blue chambray shirt and denim jeans body appeared as if he shrunk. His body barely recovered from her retaliation.

“You look like shit” she mused. Her satisfaction was short lived when he revealed his Glock that was tucked under his shirt into the waistband of his jeans.

“I spent months in hospital,” he spat. “fighting infection! I spent every moment thinking about how I would destroy you and everything you cared about”

Ramsai almost laughed. “You destroyed me a long time ago.” she shot back. “Stop being so dramatic!” she almost wanted to laugh. The idiom “don’t bring a knife to a gunfight” was playing out right before her eyes.

Ramsai weighed the odds she could survive this fight, it was not going to go well for either of them. She decided she was ok with that.
“Why couldn’t you just let things be?” she asked. “You could have gone on with your life.”

He laughed. “That is not done with people like you and I. Its a killed or be killed world we live in. ”

It was true, Ramsai had to agree with him. Their world was a cold harsh one, not meant for love or any kind of attachments. He was a cold efficient killer, the only mistake he made was falling in love with her, now here he was, Ramsai thought bitterly, fixing that mistake.


she sensed the air shift, the glimmer of metal caught the sunlight and she pivoted on her heel to the side just as a knife soared past her. The knife sank into the wall behind her. She swallowed back her gasp. Her fingers shook as she waited to reach for the knife.

“Now who is being dramatic” he sighed.

Ramsai’s eyes were focused on him. He always telegraphed his moves, it was what she was counting on. His finger caressed the trigger as if he was debating when to shoot her.

She palmed her keys in one hand, her other waiting to yank the knife out of the wall.

Without warning, she flung the keys at him and reached for her knife. She heard him curse.

The Glock went off, the sound echoing in her ears. The bullet seared her arm, she was too slow to move out of the way.

she sidestepped, throwing the knife at him. The knife sank deep into his shoulder, forcing him to drop the Glock.

Ramsai and he both reached for the gun, but she kicked at him. He deflected the blow.

He grabbed her by the neck forcing her back against the wall. Her head bounced back, as she struggled for air.

Ramsai grappled with him, her fingers clawing at his hands.

She was going to lose consciousness, she realized. Her nails caught his shirt and she dug into his shoulder where he was bleeding profusely.

His howl of pain deafened her, he loosened his grip around her throat. She clawed once more at his face, her feet finally finding purchase on the floor. Her knee came up. He doubled over.

Stumbling free, Ramsai gasped for air. Her eyes seeking the Glock.

She lunged past him to grab the Glock. He grabbed for her. Ramsai fell to the floor. She crawled, as his fingers clasped her ankle. He dragged her towards him. She twisted and kicked at his head. His head snapped to the side and he released her.

Ramsai scurried along the floor and scooped up the Glock. Breathing hard she swung the gun in his direction.

“What are you going to do?” he laughed between gulps of air. He struggled to stand “Shoot me? You cant shoot me.”

“You really talk too much” Ramsai inhaled and squeezed the trigger.

Ramsai watched as the surprise registered on his face before turning to horror. He glanced down at the blood spreading across his chest then back at her. He collapsed to his knees.

“You broke into my home,” Ramsai was stunned on how calm she felt.

The adrenaline racing through her veins slowed. She managed to climb to her feet.

“You were stupid enough to come after me. What did you think was going to happen?”

He chuckled, blood spurting over his lips. “I thought I was going to kill you” his breath rattled through him. “I trained you well didn’t I? I almost had you.”

Ramsai stood over him for a bit longer watching his last breath leave his lungs and then smiled.
She could finally live a normal life!

-#WRITINGPROMPTS: I will destroy you and everything you love



I had a lucid dream last night.

When I woke up I was really pissed off!

I had dreamt that there was this man running from the Bratva. He was supposed to be in WITSEC but someone had outed him so he was running.

No one could help him. He was a complete mess. Dirty disheveled, hungry, scared and angry. He was in the forest being chased by corrupt law enforcement, Bratva and actual good guys when he was cornered near the ravine.

He had finally the upper hand, had outsmarted the Bratva that came for him. Had tied up the corrupt cops and even with legit cops surrounding him managed to make the corrupt confess.

the lucid part of the dream came when I as part of the good guys was supposed to be writing down the confession. Only in the dream, I was a psychic using Remote Viewing to locate the man. As I was Remote Viewing I thought I had been writing down the entire conversation between the Man and his pursuers. Only I hadnt been. It had been the Police Officer.

So when I woke out of my trance and looked down at my notes there was nothing but blank pages. Confused and disoriented I tried to go back into the trance, to go back to the ravine but it was too much. It took too much energy. I had a headache. My eyes were throbbing. My pencil in my hand, and the Man kept asking “why do you want me to repeat everything you just heard?”

I woke up, and still sleepy my hand moving like I was writing, I turned on the light.


I had been asleep the entire time!

Somethings killing me


I stopped eating my chips I exclaimed: “Oh my god no it was her husband. He used the creatine to kill her. He made the drink for her. She collapsed immediately. He was jealous.”

  • me within six minutes of watching Something’s killing me.

“Anyone who suddenly volunteers info or suddenly tries to “remember” details of an incident is usually lying” I muttered while I munch on my chip.

“Suicidal?” I spat out my drink in incredulous disbelief “Yes because if a woman is suicidal she would choose cyanide as a way to go. I don’t think so, genius!”

I only finish watching the show to see if I was right. I was. The husband was jealous because he believed his wife was having an affair. She wanted more children he didn’t.



I was watching this video last night before bed. It totally boggled my mind, because of how naive I really was. Sure I have heard of Stealthing. And how it was perpetrated as a rape crime.  if a man was to remove his condom during sex if a woman gave clear concise instructions not to. He took away her right.

A man could be charged with rape.

So can a woman.

Why doesn’t it penetrate the brain that everyone can be a victim?

Men could be raped by man or woman. No means no. Doesn’t matter what the situation is. Men could be molested. Men could have their rights taken away, but society doesn’t see that because they don’t see men as vulnerable. men are always perpetrated as horn dogs ready to go for sex whenever the occasion arises. No means no. simple as that. No matter the sex. Rape is a horrible degrading act of violence that is forced on the victim. No one should ever go through that. No one.

This where shit gets twisted.

if a woman should stealth a man she would not be charged.

If a man made it explicitly clear he didn’t want no children, yet she didn’t take birth control or she poked holes in his condoms to become pregnant she would not be charged.

Being a mother is her right.

What about her partner’s right?  the dude said no to kids! That was his right. She took that away from him. that was his sperm. She was taking it away from him. Wouldnt it be outrage if someone took her eggs without her consent? Yes, it would be. So why wouldn’t it be an outrage if someone took a man’s sperm without his consent?

The woman gets pregnant. He still doesn’t want the kid, or isn’t aware of the kid.  She could slap the guy with child support.  but in his defense, he can’t ask for an abortion. Because it is her body. Her decision.

I was sitting there in my own ignorance, stunned by my own naivety.

I probably rambled on incoherently in this post but it was such a fascinating and educational video!

Changes one’s perspective on victimization.



On my days off I always feel guilty about binge watching tv shows. I should be doing something productive, but once I am in love with a character there is just no going back.

In this case, I was binge watching MTV’s Sweet/Vicious. About two college girls Ophelia and Jules who become vigilantes.   Jules realizes the university does nothing about the many reported rapes on campus.

Jules who was a victim of rape herself finds it hard to deal with the trauma, especially since her rapist was her best friend’s boyfriend. She decides to become a  vigilante to make the victims feel safe and make the rapists feel the terror and the violation the victims felt. Ophelia discovers Jules on one vigilante outing and in exchange for not revealing Jules to the police, she offers to be her sidekick. her Robin (not Robin because Robin is a bitch) to Jules’ Batman.

Ophelia’s quirky friendship helps Jules deal with her trauma.

Jules’s rape was dealt in a realistic way, despite the hijinks thrown in.

So much so that when Nate (Jules’ rapist) was justifying that the rape was consensual sex to his girlfriend Kennedy, I wanted to throw up. He was holding her against his chest, and he was stroking her hair like she was a puppy.

The expression on Kennedy’s face. void of any emotion except horror.

Suddenly I was overwhelmed by a memory of my molestation when I was younger. The smell of his body odor. The way he touched me. I just about threw up my lunch.

Sweet/vicious was an interesting show, interesting characters.

Sadly Sweet/Vicious had only one season with 10 episodes and left it with the possibility of Nate getting revenge!


This is Brock. Brock raped a girl behind a dumpster. He was caught by two amazing young men who chased and tackled him. The scene horrified them so much one man cried as he described what Brock was doing to the unconscious woman. Brock was found guilty and given a 6 month sentence because according to the judge he’s a really good swimmer and a longer sentence might have a “severe impact on him”. Brock’s dad wants you to stop talking about his son being a rapist because he shouldn’t be remembered for getting “20 minutes of action”. Brock’s swimming times were posted in a story about the rape to show you just how amazing an athlete he is. If you have sons make sure they are not a Brock.

-Copied from facebook

Because you know we should be promoting his career and rape culture. (<<< if you dont get this  is sarcasm I am very angry with you!)

How a judge can sign off on six months is a disgusting disgrace! He should be thrown off the bench.

Shouldnt be remembered for 20 minutes? What about the girl he raped? She has to remember for more than 20 minutes! She was unconscious! Yet the bruises, the violation of her body? That pain stays forever! The flinching.

Rapists are all about power and control. They should have to relive their victims’ terror their nightmares. Their despair. The “you ask for it” blame that is put upon the victim . That kind of punishment should be inflicted upon them!

Media is no better than the rapist.



“you think you know her. Understand her, simply because you have taken her to your bed.” he chuckled ruefully. He took a sip of his whiskey, letting the amber liquid burn his throat, then set the shot glass down.

“Oh this is going to be rich,” Jack muttered. “I am going to be schooled in how relationships work by the one man who couldnt keep one!”

“Jacky, m’boy” Mason purred, his voice was no longer slurred from drinking, but steel sharp. “I am going to beat the stupid out you if you dont sit down and shut up!”

Jack glared at the older man, and straddled the chair.

Mason poured himself another whiskey. He undid his tie, and rolled up his sleeves. He stared blearily at the young man before him, and then at his shot glass.

“Women can bewilder us, Jacky” he murmured.

“Rory  isnt a puzzle or a riddle you have to solve, Mason” Jack snapped.

Mason snorted. “she is a mere woman.” he shot back sarcastically. “an enigma, simply a figment of my imagination”

Jack nodded finally accepting the drink Mason was offering. He took a sip.

“I see,” Mason muttered. “The moment you two met was kismet. As if fate had simply let her walk right into you.” he let out a little laugh. “Which is ridiculous, right Jacky? You dont believe in destiny and soul mates! That junk science is for fools?” He swirled the whiskey in his glass, then looked at Jack. His features unreadable. “Yet there you were, standing there looking down at her, everything you knew seemed so insignificant. her  large dark eyes made you  want to protect her. From what? Who knows? Just make her sadness go away.”

A chill crept over Jack’s shoulders down his back. He had never told anyone how he felt when he met Rory.

“she could make you feel like a king, cater to you. Her mouth did things no one else could. Her touch made you ache even when you werent near,” Mason spoke softly, his grip tight on the glass. “she would take you to her bed and ask you to do things no woman in her right mind would dare ask you to do. You would, because she drove you insane.”

Jack swallowed hard as his skin remembered every caress every stroke Rory made to his body. She would plead with him to take her to heaven, make her cum…

He realised Mason was still speaking, but he was staring off as if he was reliving a memory.”Enough, Mason. Thats enough”

“you would plead with her but she would laugh,” Mason sighed. “it made you wonder who was in control. Were you in control?”

“Of course I was…” Jack snapped.

“It would be the little things. Calling you at work. To make sure you were there. Running into you the parking lot. She would make excuses,”

Jack frowned, there had been a few times when he would be in meetings and there would be messages with her showing some skin. Or she would show up unannounced at a poker game.

“she would reward you,” Mason went on, “indulging a fantasy you might have.”

The uneasiness that curdled Jack’s stomach was growing.

“you couldnt get enough,” Mason’s voice rumbled in his head.

Jack shook his head then he realised Mason was staring past him. He turned in his chair to find Rory behind him.

Her long dark hair coiled down her back like snakes. A white chemise dress clung to her curves leaving nothing to the imagination. A chain of pearls was around her neck, nestling in her ample breasts. the way her round ass swayed as she walked, made him growl in appreciation. Her dark red lips pursed in disapproval.

Rory’s eyes were fixed on him, as she approached the table and Jack started to get up, when she slid her hands over his shoulders and pushing back down.

“You werent ready for me.” Rory rasped.

Jack was bewildered. “You two know each other?” he stared at Rory then Mason.  he couldnt believe this was happening.

Rory’s fingers stroked over his broad shoulders to pacify him, her eyes never leaving Mason’s.

“I see, playing with some pup until I came around?” Mason demanded.

Rory played with the pearls at her neck. “It was fun.”

Jack could barely comprehend what was going on. “Rory explain yourself!”

Mason took another swig of whisky.  “He doesnt have a clue,” he laughed morosely.

Rory pushed away from Jack. “Are you coming or not?” she demanded.

Jack started to rise out of his chair, when he felt agonizing pain. Startled and confused he glanced down to find a knife had jammed itself in his stomach. Blood spurted over his fingers. He staggered, the chair scattering and he was about to fall when Mason reached out for him.

Mason stood. With one hand on Jack’s shoulder as if to give him a degree of comfort, he reach down between them for his dagger. he smiled. “Walking in a straight line was never really Rory’s style” he winked at the younger man, and drove the dagger deeper. “She needs someone to appreciate her darkness.Her heart was always with me.”

Jack opened his mouth, but blood bubbled over his lips. “We met and it was kismet.” Mason leaned into whisper in his ear. “destiny.”

His panick filled eyes collided with Rory’s. Her eyes were wide in shock. Her hands clapped to her mouth as if to stifle her scream. Then slowly her fingers eased away, and the delight that curved her mouth made him recoil in horror.

Jack struggled but Mason’s grip was firm, and Mason pulled out his dagger. “One day you will understand, Jacky m’boy. ” he released the younger man. Jack collasped, at his feet.

Stepping over the body, Mason reached for Rory. “I was always ready for you.” he mused.”I was waiting for you to see me. See us. We were meant for each other.”

Rory took his hand, and stepped into his arms. “Forever,” she breathed.

“you light up my world,” Mason whispered. “Here we are together. The darkness can swallow us both or we can set this place on fire.”

  • i was feeling morbid today.