Killing is My Middle Name

Chapter One

        It all started when I was fourteen. I was walking home from my friend, Stacy's house. I looked up at the summer sky, it was already dark and the black clouds hid the sky as if it was going to rain.

        It had been a very beautiful day. Stacy and I had had a lot of fun together, like we always did. Today, she brought me to this awesome new yogurt shop that had been opened a block down her street. It was called the Yogurt Palace. She had vanilla while I had this yummy looking sherbet that swirled with blues, greens, and pinks. We had talked about cute boys at school, the new video games out, everything! We had gone to the mall; checked out every store. She ended up buying some new clothes while I bought some posters for my room and band t's as well. I wanted her to come over and spend the night but she said she had to go to her cousin's birthday party the next day so she wouldn't be able to sleep over or come over and hang out. But it was all right because I was so happy; nothing could ruin this day.

...I should’ve never said that.

****

        The sky screamed with rolling thunder, signaling for the rain to begin to fall. I could feel the coldness seep into my bones with each small drop that hit me. As I walked past the alley, a man about six feet tall, lunged at me. Instinctively, I pulled out my pocket knife and stabbed him in the stomach. In that moment, I was very glad for the self-defence classes my dad made me take.

        He groaned and stumbled back. He shouted in agony, "You brat! How dare you stab me!"  

        He grabbed my left arm and pulled me into the pitch black alley. I could feel his nails digging into my flesh. The blood began to crawl out, running down my arm. Immediately, I stabbed him again until he let go. He let go at the twentieth stab with a shriek that pierced the cold air. As soon as he felt the pain, he fell back. His knees locked, making him go rigid and I heard a deafening crack as his skull hit hard onto the concrete. I backed away to watch his scarlet blood run down his body.  

        I felt guilty, but some other feeling, too. I reached my house, shaking and covered in blood.  No one was home so I ran up to my room. I stepped into my room and saw myself in the mirror... it made me stop dead in my tracks. I looked at my blood soaked jet black hair and clothing - what was left of them anyway. When the man began to fall, he tried to claw at my clothes, frantically ripping at the collar as if this would help his inevitable death. I took the bloody clothes and put them into a clear bag which I tied, then ran downstairs to throw it into the dumpster. I came back inside and sat on my bed, thinking of what I had done. I finally realized what the other feeling was! Excitement. As soon as I had seen the man hunched over in a pool of his own blood, I had felt excited and happy... with a little guilt.

       The next morning, I walked down stairs to find my parents eating breakfast and watching the news. I sat down and ate with them.

        I looked at the T.V. and grinned as the news anchor said, "A man, killed last night, was just found moments ago. The police say it was a murder. Judging by the wounds, the man may have been stabbed twenty times with a pocket knife. Further investigation continues. Detectives are questioning if this was done by a minor. If anyone can identify him, please call (818) 663-5412."  

        A picture of a man with brown short hair and brown eyes came on the screen. On the side of the picture, it said he was 5'8", weighed 188 pounds and was about 40 years old. All the scenes from last night came back to me. The blood, the crack of his skull, and the rain to wash away the evidence.  I knew this was the man I murdered.