ALL TOO WELL. vault of stories

IV . why not

IV . WHY NOT
short prose
written c . 2022
edited c . 2024

When Charity Ramos entered the crowded police station on the 15th of July, the noise lowered and the air became stifled.

The once-noisy environment eyed her with morbid curiosity. Surrounding her were varying expressions of anger, disbelief, interest and grief.

Charity was downright gleeful at the attention she commanded. And so a pleasant, saccharine smile adorned her innocent face.

Charity was an oddball. Despite what her arresting report detailed — she was everything nice. Her pastel halter dress that contrasted so heavily with her current environment just complimented her bubbly personality.

Well, the tight suffocating handcuffs that were most certainly going to leave red indents in her skin confirmed that Charity Ramos belonged. Despite her appearance, everyone knew that Charity deserved to be cuffed.

The sugary smile never left her lips as she was escorted (rather roughly) into one of the many cold, stark interrogation rooms. The white walls, metal table and one-way mirror did not dampen her spirits.

The smile did not leave her lips when the door was abruptly slammed open as the head detective entered. The smile did not leave her lips as the weathered Detective Harrison recounted her crimes with a harsh glare.

And the smile certainly did not leave her lips when he asked the most important question.

"Why? Why did you murder four people?"

Why? Such an interesting inquisition. Why did, Charity Ramos, the sweetheart of Stanley commit four murders? That was the question on everyone's lips.

Well to answer this inquisition, we must go back to her first deviance — the murder of Benjamin Lee.

It was a cold night. If one was to take a breath they would see their foggy expiration. But Charity came prepared with her utterly flawless peach coat with wool linings that kept her nice and warm. Charity's pastel Mary Jane heels clicked against the pavement as she ventured towards the fifth house on Trent Lane. The house was the wet dream of every nuclear suburban family. With perfect picket white fences and a mailbox shaped like a house.

When Charity arrived on the front porch, she left three simple knocks upon the white wooden door. And when the door was opened by Ben she was welcomed in with a smile and hug for he never though twice about inviting his friend into his once-secure home.

And it was this fateful mistake that would cost Benjamin his life. For he, unlike Charity, was not prepared. He was not prepared when she blindsided him with a hard hit from her pink metal wrench. He was not prepared when she hit him again and again and again until he stopped twitching.

And so, Benjamin lost his life and the walls of the once-perfect house on Trent Lane were painted in his brains, skin and blood. And the next morning when his body was discovered, the officers found no murder weapon and no forensic evidence.

"Why"

The detective asked once more, his patience running thin.

"Why not" smiled Charity

Why not indeed.