What did they teach? | Part 2 | Motivation [ a murder series ]

This is a murder series. It may be gruesome, it may be bloody but, you could learn something. Or not.

To Part 1 | Interview

Part 2 | Motivation

So, you said you would speak of your first.

Yes, I did didn't I? You make it sound like a crush, a first love, a sexual encounter. I guess it was like that in a way, not sexual for me but, like the first time. I had it all planned out, the object of my obsession, how I imagined it to be.

I knew why he would be the first and I knew he would teach me a lot and I would be able to teach him something also. In a way, his death completed his life's work, well at least what he had told people. He really did make a difference in the lives of others.

How did you choose him?

It was relatively easy, he was a standout lesson, a teacher himself but, one who was less about shaping minds and more about bulging wallets. He was charming, smooth, sophisticated and, filled up to his eyeballs with bullshit. So full, he couldn't keep his mouth closed and it would flow out into society. An emotional scammer, he sold motivational porn.

You mean, Anthony Railings was you?

Ha, yes. It was me. Jilted lover? Hardly. I wouldn't let that slime ball anywhere near my body even if I was the most broken and mentally challenged amongst his clientele. And, that is saying something. Do you know how many of his lovers were clients? All of them. He would spend his time on stage picking a pretty one from the crowd and having his staff invite them for a personal session. How many women jumped at the chance to 'Be motivated!' is anyone's guess.

But, it was not his disgusting, greasy and manipulative sexual habits that led to the lesson, it was his disgusting, greasy and manipulative words. Words that took advantage of the weaknesses and vulnerabilities of others and played on their hopes and dreams of a better life. He was selling falsity in a neatly wrapped, highly polished, smile laden box they couldn't resist.

How did you do it?

Look at me. What do you see?

Am I meant to say murderer because you do not look like one.

What do I look like to you, a man?

You are well presented, well spoken, well... beautiful.

Yes, it was easy to get the opportunity. Most men are simple. A little extra makeup, booking a seat close enough to the stage to be seen, a low cut blouse. I was ready to go to several of his events if needs be but, he picked me at the first. I saw him mark me with his lustful eyes moments after he took to the stage. His staff came to collect me about 20 minutes from the end and took me to watch the show from behind the side curtains.

When he came off the stage, I acted like a little girl trying to play it cool around her favourite pop idol. Egos are easily manipulated. Considering he spends so much time building the self-esteem of his clients, you would think he would have seen through the facade, I am not that great of actress. But, his desires and actual lack of skills blew any chance he had of making the discovery. Do you know how he died?

Yes, of course, it was in the news. You slit his throat.

Yes. But, I also pulled his tongue through the opening.

Why?

He had lied for all of those years, preyed on the weak, foolhardy and hopeful, stripping them of their life savings, years of work and retirement nest eggs. And, he had made them feel empowered.

He had crafted his skillset to manipulate them into feelings of control and certainty whilst he pulled at their strings and plunged them into crises. He did help some though, just high enough in number and reward that it would attract more. He created a few flames which attracted many moths and then clipped their wings. He made them feel they had a chance but when it didn't materialise, he made them feel it was their own fault for not having adhered closely enough to his sermons of the absurd. It was time he swallowed his words.

There are many such people, why him in particular?

He needed to learn his lesson, learn the floor in his direction. He needed to come to reach the understanding that what he had been preaching was harmful and stopped people from achieving, not helped them. He would come to learn that night that his very tagline was foolish.

That night, as he moved in to kiss me under the assumption it was what I wanted without the courtesy to ask, I slid a blade along his throat and whispered in to his ear his final lesson, one learned, not taught.

'You control your destiny!'

He learned he did not have control. What did you learn?

I learned I did.

Taraz
[ a Steemit original ]

To Part 3 | Dutiful