This Book Is Full of Bodies

I AM NOT ONE OF YOU.

At least that’s what you’ll tell yourself.

You’ll say I’m a monster.

A sicko.

A deranged killer.

All the time completely dismissing the side of human nature I choose to explore, and you choose to deny.

But I am no monster, I am no sicko, and I am not deranged.

I am man in his thirties, infatuated with his step-daughter, unable to understand human behaviour, who just happens to delight in murdering many, many innocent people.

And this is my violent, sick and twisted memoir.

Do not read if you have a weak stomach, and do not read if you are not prepared to explore the different ways you can rip a person apart, and definitely do not read if you are not prepared to discover who you really are.

*I am Gerald Brittle.

* *I am a serial killer.

* And this is my story.