Jeffrey Dahmer: An Alternate Ending

*The story is in the first person. The narrator is the protagonist, antagonist, victim, and savior. Reader’s discretion is advised. May contain graphic content.

Prologue: This story is an alternate reality of Jeffrey Dahmer; one of the most notorious and diabolical serial killers the human race has ever witnessed. Jeffrey Dahmer aka The Milwaukee Cannibal who killed 17 men and boys taking his first prey at the age of eighteen.

He not only killed his victims in the most cripplingly brutal ways but stored their remains in acid jars in his apartment as mementos. He was sick beyond imagination and just the mention of his name can make your skin crawl in the most disgusting ways. But to anyone who reads this; I request you to first read and research a bit more about Jeffrey Dahmer, listen to his interviews on YouTube, or listen to some podcasts about him to understand his story better.

 You are in for the ride of your life. This will change your perspective on a lot of pragmatic and dogmatic facts of life. This prologue does no justice in describing his heinous acts or his psyche. Hope you have a good time.

Chapter One: Before it all began…..

I, Jeffrey Lionel Dahmer, was a bubbly and happy child for most parts of my childhood that I can remember. My father was a very active participant in my life. He played tennis with me, taught me to ride a bike, took me to fairs and amusement parks, took me to the beach and did every other thing that “normal” happy families did. We had our fair share of happy memories, but my entire childhood was filled with tension between my parents which just kept on surging as I was growing. I felt like a spectator to an alleyway fight, just the fact that I couldn’t leave; even if I wanted to. There was constant verbal abuse going around the house. My parents were just continuously fighting with each other. I just felt helpless in the situation.

At school, everyone was just very different from me. My likes and preferences were very different from the others. I liked collecting dead animals and insects. Others didn’t. I was obsessed with knowing what was inside living things, what the insides looked like. I liked listening to heartbeats. My father taught me the basics of taxidermy looking at my interest in animals. He thought I could make a career out of it. I wish it was just that. What he didn’t know was I wanted to keep all of them with me not because I liked them, but because they made me feel alive though they were all dead. I wanted everybody dead. So I could stay without being picked at and bullied. I wanted everybody to just stay. I wanted to possess them. Just without their heartbeats, because they would be mine.

What also made me an outcast was that I liked boys, in a romantic way. Of course, I couldn’t tell that anybody. My parents would disown me. I would be called satanic. So, I pretended to like girls just like every “normal” boy did. But I was lonely in a crowd. My thoughts were simply not sharable. My parents had separated, moved separate ways. I was alone technically with my dark thoughts.

Chapter Two: The dark times

When I graduated from high school, I moved out. I enrolled as a biology major at a community college. Everyone was still the same. Different. I was now openly attracted to men. I knew I was gay. But of course, I kept mum. I took up a part-time job at the campus café. The first reason, I could stare at as many guys as I wanted to, call me perverted but it was the truth. The second reason, it helped me ignore my dark attributes. The burning desire to own and kill. Alcohol had become my best friend at this point in life. It kept me sane. But I knew it would not be able to control my sick thoughts for long. I knew I couldn’t seek help. It would bring the spotlight on me. I was just hanging by a thin thread.

It was three months into my junior year when the catalyst appeared. His name was Stefan. He triggered me beyond reason. It was not love at first sight. Rather panic and hate at first sight. It felt like he could read my thoughts. As if he knew what was going inside my mind.

He was shy and quiet almost like me. Always flustered and jittery. But his gaze spoke volumes. He had to go. He was dangerous for me. So I decided to get rid of him.

He was a small guy. I thought intimidation would help. I pulled him in an alley after class an evening. Surprisingly, he was not even panicky about it, he was calm. What he said left me jaw-slackened. He said,” I was expecting you, Jeffrey. You took long.” That was one of the most surreal moments of life. Suddenly, it felt like amidst everyone so different; I had finally found someone like me. Or did I?

Chapter Three: Stefan or Jeffrey?

He took me to his apartment in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. It was quite a seedy neighborhood. One would not want to be in that locality after dark. Something inside me was screaming not to go into his apartment, but I did. I still to date do not know if it was a good decision or not. On entering, a peculiar smell hit me like a truck. Something like rot and filth combined with something undescriptive. His freezer was not working, he said. So some meat had gone bad. We drank for some time. Some kind of movie was playing in the background. We both were quite tipsy. He was drunker than I was. After about an hour, he went out to get more beer. The apartment felt empty but stuffy. It made me feel good. Weird right?

I decide to explore the apartment. He was taking quite long to return. Upon entering the bedroom, there was a dead body next to the bed. It had no legs. Just the torso. The head was severed. I did not panic but I could feel the fear settling in. I don’t know why I decide to search more and not just run out of the place. On opening his closet, I found countless polaroid pictures of men both alive and dead. Some were naked, some violated and mutilated. It was gruesome. I could not believe what I was seeing. It was clear Stefan had clicked all those pictures. He was a sex offender and a killer.

I turned on my foot to run and there, there was Stefan standing at the threshold of the bedroom smiling….

Chapter Four: I found myself

At that moment, it felt like I was looking at myself. It was not Stefan, it was Jeffrey. I found myself. It was just future Jeffrey staring into my orbs and smiling. It was going to be me. In a flash, I knew I couldn’t do that. I could not be him. I had to try. I sprinted for the door. Of course, I could not escape without a fight. I was going to die. I felt the desperate helplessness a dying man feels. It just solidified my decision. I had to live. I had to escape this serial killer. I had to be better. Call it pure adrenaline or my bigger size as compared to my killer I somehow dodged his attacks and ran.

He followed but my will to live was stronger. I reached the police station and recited everything I saw. The police went to his apartment. What they found was something inhuman. The police found severed limbs and heads in his freezer. A blue barrel had cut off torsos stored in some kind of acid. His closet had a collection of pictures that should not be described. He was arrested. He did not run. He was brought to the station. He was not allowed to speak to me. But I clearly remember his last statement to me. He said,” I knew you would come. Thank you, Jeffrey. You can do better.”

Epilogue:

It's been 26 years since that incident. Stefan died in prison due to homicide. Believe it or not, I went to pay him a visit once. He didn’t say anything. Just looked at me and smiled. It felt like I don’t know what. Like he was happy that he prevented the making of another Stefan. He was proud of me and he had got his redemption.

Me?

I joined the army and served the nation for 18 years. I never found love. Don’t know if I am capable of it. But I definitely would say that I am Jeffrey Dahmer and I love myself for what I accomplished.