I Swapped Heads with a Serial Killer. Now I’m Losing Myself
I don’t know how much time I have left before I lose control again. If you’re reading this, I’m probably already gone. Listen carefully: If you’re in Terre Haute, Indiana, and you see a man with a scar around his neck, run. If you have a gun, shoot him in the head. I’m begging you.
I was diagnosed with brain cancer in April. The doctor said I had six months to live. My only hope was a head transplant. They paired me with a death-row inmate—a serial killer who agreed to swap heads with me. I survived, but he didn’t. I got his body, and he got mine. They said it would work, but I should have known better.
At first, I felt great. The scar around my neck was the only reminder. But then, I started hearing voices. Horrible, bloodthirsty whispers. “Kill them all,” it said. I thought it was just stress, but it got louder. It took control of my body. I watched helplessly as I murdered my wife, my kids. I slipped and hit my head, and I regained control for a moment. I locked myself out of the house to protect my dog.
I’m sitting on my porch now, typing this. I can feel the monster trying to take over again. Please, don’t ever consider a head transplant. It’s not worth it.
#HeadTransplant #MindControl #TerreHauteTerror
