Deception

Remy L. White

She was 17. Young and fragile. She had hair short and thin. It was a sweet, light, caramel brown color. Her eyes were a shade of crystal evergreen. When I first saw her, they pierced me. She usually wore skirts and spaghetti strap shirts. She was my everything until she died. Oh don't worry, you shouldn't feel bad. I killed her. She was Subject One and she was perfect for the experiment. Now I'm no serial killer. I was a student at Harvard University. I graduated first in my class, actually first in the state. Don't even ask where I live because where I am applies to no one but myself. As you can tell by my dialect, I try to sound normal but sometimes the intricacy of my vocabulary overpowers my thinking structure. Just like with what I just said. Anyways like in many university or schools in general there are stereotypes. You would associate dumb with popular, smart with nerds, and of course different with goth. I am that goth. However, I've inquired intelligence from my fellow peers. I say inquired instead of acquired because as I say, I'm that goth. I don't dress though the way you're probably picturing. You're either probably thinking black hoodie that covers my eyes, dark pants and sneakers or suit and tie with black suede shoes. You're not reading a spin off of Death Note. I am no Kira, and L does not exist. No one is smarter than me. No one. If you are wondering though, I wear a t-shirt that's usually a shade of, in this case green, some tan khakis, and for shoes, I wear blue Converse. I look fairly average. I've got you're typical stern blue eyes and if you look up business class haircut under google images it's the first one. I've also got something that make me stand out from everybody else. A scar on my left ear. You're probably thinking how cliche of him to say that. He's just copying Harry Potter. I can assure you though that I'm not as predictable as Harry Potter. Besides my scar isn't shaped in a thunderbolt. I once had my ear pierced. Then Rachel, Subject One, got too picky. She said I looked too girly and ripped out my earring. Now you're thinking, 'Wow. You killed her because she ripped out your earring? That's a horrible excuse to kill.'. I can assure you though, that's not why I killed her. Thats just silly. She did something though that I can't tell you yet about. She saw something. But of course I'm not going to tell you. I won't tell a lot of things. In fact you will never know my actual name unless someone messes up, which I never let happen. But if you'd like to call me something, call me Remy. Remy White.

"So, Lu-", my 'father' started then stopped as I slapped him across the face.
"My name is Remy, 'father'", I said uncannily, "I would like to be called Remy.", I ended my statement.
"Yes, but it's not the name your mother-", I slapped him again.
"You know how I feel when you bring her up. She was a slut and whore and a b-", this time he slapped me.
"Your mother was none of those things!", he yelled in anger as I started to chuckle.
"You're so clueless to a point where I almost feel bad for you. But let's face it, I care only about my ego, right?", my 'father' knew that I didn't love him. That I resented him for things that he did to me that I can't say just yet.
"Lu-", I slapped him harder and yelled in rage.
"MY NAME IS REMY YOU STUPID MAN!", I got up and pushed him to the ground.
"You've been acting strange ever since your mother left. Maybe you need therapy", said laying on the ground.
"Therapy?", I actually broke into laughter.
"Luc- I mean-", I grabbed a knife and slit his throat. I didn't actually know what I was doing. He bled out slowly. I decided that if I was going to do this I had to be consistent and leave a message behind. So when I knew for sure he was dead, I took a marker and on the left side of his chest I drew angel wings. Now I wasn't just going to dump him in the trash bin in the back, so I put him down in the basement. After that I got rid of all evidence pointy towards me. If anyone even tries to suspect me, they're going on my list. But that won't happen. My father didn't count as a kill for me. The real test is yet to come.

No one likes Monday's. Nobody but me. I like to mess with people's minds and cause problems to make everybody else's day worse. The thing is they never expect their karma until it's too late. Say for instance, this girl Rachel, she was 17. Young and fragile. She had hair short and thin. It was a sweet, light, caramel brown color. Her eyes were a shade of crystal evergreen. When I first saw her, they pierced me. She usually wore skirts and spaghetti strap shirts. She was my everything until she died. Until I killed her. I thought that she was my one and only until I saw something. I didn't mind the fact that she was dating. It's just the person that she was dating. One of the professors, Mr. Watson. He was young, tall, and slim. He has soft auburn eyes and a lot of freckles. His hair is the shade of ebony black hair parted to the left. He uses hair gel, and wears a suit and tie. He seems charming and I can see why Rachel would want to be with him. The thing is it's scandalous. If anyone ever found out...I couldn't let that happen. So I created Subject One. I started to document her. I guess you can say, I stalked her. I followed her to her house, 45 Maple Avenue everyday when she left the campus. She had a mother, Carly, and a father, Sampson, as well as younger twin brothers Jake, and George. Her house was Dover white and had grey blue shutters on the second story. The grass was clean cut and had a bold green color. She was the perfect experiment for Subject One. I kept a journal about how, when, and where I would complete the task. I followed her schedule for weeks and on Monday, the 24th of April, it was time. I had it all planned out. She would wake up at 5:43 am and get ready to be on the streets at 6:29. I would follow her at about a distance of a sixth of a mile behind and 1:30 minutes behind. She would head to Literature and so would I. I'd meet her at the front of the class and say, "Hi Rachel. I was wondering if you could help me study after school today at around 6:47?", then she would reply by saying, "Um, sure.", then I would finish by saying, "Please try not to be late.", then I would walk to the to the back of the class and sit slowly down in the soft leather seat, go to grab my pencil while synchronizing my watch as the clock would turn 6:37. I would get out the rest of my supplies and take more notes on the plan for tonight. She would meet me. I would meet her and without saying anything, I would kill her.