Somnolent Strike

The News

October 31, 1994

19 YEAR OLD WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN HOME, HEART CARVED OUT

The body of Julissa Rory was found last week, in her micro apartment, in a tragic state. It had been weeks since anyone had heard from her. The state of the apartment was blood-curdling with reddish-brown stains believed to be blood trailing through the house and her heart on a pillow in her bed, covered with a sheet. The heart had a smaller heart drawn on it with what looked like a thin instrument, for precise fine lines. It had been wiped clean so the drawing was better visible. Underneath were scrawled the words: Roadkill. Police are uncertain who could've done this, but are still questioning the other tenants in the building, as well as neighbours. If you have any information contact this number  **** - **** '****

"I'm sorry, I'll turn it off." I reached for the remote to turn the TV off.

"Don't touch it! Look at me... Revere. Did you do it? This is a very serious crime that has been committed, so if you lie everyone will know... What do you do for a living??" The police officer was unsuspectingly stirring his cup of Fizzies with a teaspoon and looking into my eyes. I'd put an extra tablet that's why it was still fizzing. He had to keep stopping and starting talking because he wanted to see how long he could hold the tablet in his mouth until it blew open and spewed bright foam all over the place.

"I'm a ticket agent at the movies."

"Oh the movies, huh? You teenagers, it's the cinema! How old are you then, eh?" He murmured, swallowing.

"Seventeen. My birthday was months ago."

"You're a bit young to be living on your own. What does your family say about your housing situation?" I'm so glad I spat and poured my expired milk in his drink.

"I've been homeless since I was sixteen. I got this place six months ago." I glared at the little flecks of milk on the beige surface of his Fizzy. It had stopped fizzing and the milk was more noticeable now. He was stirring it with a fat finger, then bringing it to his mouth.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, dear." He put his hand on mine. I wanted to snatch it away, but I shut my eyes tight instead. His hand was clammy and warm; I could feel the shredded skin tickling me. 

"May I ask why you were homeless?"

"Family conflicts."

"... Oh. Right. We do deal with cases like that. I once saw a kid tied to a tree and raped for arguing with his parents. You had a nice, warm home and chose to disobey instead of getting yourself together and doing as your parents said. You need a good beati-" He suddenly choked, spraying old milk and spit everywhere.

I wiped my face with my sleeve.

"Did you have anymore questions?" I asked sharply.

He blushed. "Uhm yes, yes I did. Do you have any known physical or mental health issues?"

"No. And no I didn't know the victim, she only moved in last month with her fucking annoying ki-"

"Annoying? You didn't like her kid much? She had a child? But we didn't find another body at the crime scene..."

"Well that's too bad. Now I have to ask you to leave because I'm somnolent."

"You're going out? Where? We're not done, I still have lots of ques-"

It was satisfying throwing my marble cake in his face.