The mind of Silas DeSade

My name is Silas DeSade. Oh, you've never heard of me? I'm a United States senator from California, also an author on the side, though what politician doesn't have a good book deal or two? Writing was what started this all, as thanks to my novel, Why must the Septuplets suffer so much?, I was thrown before my state's legislature. What was the book about, you ask? Seven precious little septuplets, all saints too pure for this world, which is exactly why they're subjected to the most inhumane torment and suffering imaginable. It was actually selling fairly well, but naturally there were complaints about it's contents, which the local politicians the brilliant idea to try and take me down on their home turf, all to chuck a slab of meat to the masses.

These politicians, seeking some easy, in their minds, political brownie points, decided to call attention to how violent and inhumane the words that form the text we call fiction can be. And what a joyous day for me, I was able to flip the table and gain a following from it, enough to not only get me a US senate seat, but a ticket to power. That hag should have know Americans value freedom of expression. Even if the fictitious work being attacked is of a genre or contains elements that would induce unending cringe at the mere glance at a page, just say "freedom of expression" and an army is yours to command.

I'm not one of those diehard fighters for freedom of expression, I just enjoy watching others suffer. It's such a joy and feeling of superiority. That is the elation I seek for as long as I live. Care for an example?

Lets say before us stands someone miserable, perhaps laid off from work, and here you stand, a sense of elation as you watch them suffer. You yourself aren't suffering, and even if you are, the sight of another suffering negates all that and places you at the top of the hierarchy. Now you see what I live for, and best for me and not for you, it's so easy to make people suffer.

With a simple log-in to social media, a quick hunt for a vulnerable individual, then a quick research period lasting no more than 10 to 20 minutes, and voila, you make a post, and mass misery ensures. "Flaming" would be the term some use, but I simply refer to it as "breathing".

But wait, if I'm the progenitor of such mass suffering, just why am I a senator? Surely a so-called "internet flamer" would be ousted from office in a record landslide. Well the answer is simple; you don't know politics.

I'm a psychopath. I put my mind to use, solely for my own selfish benefit. I gaslight, I garner sympathy, I play the role that oh so many can't help but support, and I'm not talking about just to the mere populace. Money lords over the world, thus, you seek those with money, while amassing money.

Life is a giant chess tournament, every move and game effects whether or not you'll take home the grand prize or not. My grand prize? Were you not listening? Mass suffering upon the masses, but none for me. Surely you could have said just that! Oh that's right, you can't reply, you can't even scowl back, but you most certainly can absorb all this, which must further increase your agony. Oh, how you'd love to just snap back, but you can't! You can't even open your eyes. And even if you did at this very moment...

... Even if you did suddenly open your eyes and lunge your hand for my throat, it would do you no good. I've already accomplished my goal of assassinating your favorite character.

What? You think you can just fix it? That this all just a simple nightmare? Then why am I gloating? I only gloat AFTER I've won and achieved my goal. So tell me, what does it mean that I'm here gloating, Jeter?

...

A silent response, you've yet to wakeup, yet for every extra day you rest, an extra day for me to ruin your little world.

"Silas..."

Oh?

And as if the gods are spiting me, up rises Jeter to end my romp through his world. Oh, my conquest to inflict endless suffering upon him has come to an abrupt end! So you all think.

The key to maximizing suffering is to apply the Goldilocks principle. Mindless and excessive suffering, like many seem to think I cause, will never lead to maximum suffering as "too much of a good thing" is simply that, too much. When overloaded with suffering, it's effects on the target weaken as coping mechanisms awaken to properly mitigate it all. But if you apply just the right amount of surgical precision suffering, oh the results you'll yield. It's like buying stocks, then holding investors at gunpoint to increase the price, then once the bell rings, you kill them off, and the IRS is none the wiser to your big pay day. And even if they decide to snoop... life is a chess tournament, remember, I've already seen the next 20 moves they'll take.

And for you, Jeter, I give you a hand-tailored gourmet meal of suffering. Poisoned Ivy over a hot flame, with the potential for a soured legacy. Care for a bite, or can all you do now is watch and groan?

"Silas... Ivy... What did you do to her... She's not like this, she- Ugh!"

And a day or two more, Jeter will suffer the agony of grogginess.

4 weeks...

"'4 weeks'?"

4 weeks you were completely out, yet I managed to achieve my goal in just 1, allocating the other three to converting the win and ensuring your checkmate.

Now as I start time's flow again, relive this hell. Relive this hell as you watch Momo bear witness to the three weeks I used to complete Ivy's assassination. Then answer what I asked 4 weeks ago; is this a nightmare, or is it reality?