The Tall Black Book Of Oneshots.

Milo+Parker = Death

Looking around the room, his eyes seemed to find mine, and we watched each other, like two wolves amongst a crowd of innocent lambs. I held my breath as he walked towards me, I finally looked down just as he approached.

"May I sit with you?" He asked, I looked up into dark black eyes, and I do mean black, like two eight balls swimming in pools of ice cold milk. "Yeah, you can sit." He sat down, and just watched me.

After ten straight minutes of him saying nothing yet watching, I snapped. "Are you gonna say something? What are you looking at?" I asked. "Beauty." He responded,  I looked away, my face burning. "My name's Parker, and who are you?" He asked, his voice like melted gold. "Milo." I answered.

And that was our first meeting, after that we didn't interact for a whole week. We just watched each other, at school, at Missy Cramer's party, our eyes just always seemed to connect.

Then Michael Stokes started talking to me freely again, he'd had a crush on me since my coming out party in eighth grade. Ever year since then, he'd tried and failed to get me to go out with him, it got to be a fun game between us.

This time was different, Michael approached me after lunch in the halls that following Monday. We went through the usual back and forth flirting.

This time though, he kissed me. My back was against my locker, and his body was completely against mine. I didn't feel anything, not until my eyes slid over to the Parker.

He was standing against his locker. His eyes had changed, they were full of malice. He seemed to be screaming at me without saying a word, his entire body was stiff, with quiet rage.

I closed my eyes and went with the kiss, accepting Michael's tongue, allowing him to feel me up, while half the school walked around, watching.

Michael Stokes didn't get home for dinner that night, a week later his body was found with his throat cut, so badly that he was partially decapitated. He'd been stabbed thirty times and his penis was cut off.

His body had been left in some vacant lot, behind a dumpster over in Denver. The news washed through the town, like a wild fire. His parents were on the local news, his mother wept harshly, his father spoke lovingly of his all American son.

The small town was shocked, everyone believed it was a drifter, some murderer who just flew through town.

I spent hours, writing in my journal after Michael was killed. At first I wrote regular things, like how I wondered if Michael suffered, I wondered if he was at peace. Then day by day, my writings started to change.

I started writing different things, darker things, things no normal person would write. I wrote of how I wondered what the body looked like when the police found it, I wrote of the orgasm I had the night of Micheal's funeral. I wrote about how I didn't feel sick, about how I wished I could have seen him as he was bleeding out.

Sick right, at the time I still gave a shit, but that would slowly go away. Then Trinty Robin's murder happened, she was hung on the football field behind the school. She was killed over the weekend, her body was found Monday morning, by Coach Fred.

Immediately the school was shut down, and the entire town was put on curfew. The police questioned the student body again, but again they found nothing so they went back to searching in other towns.

Trinity had been strangled with her bra, I felt nothing for her, she was a bitch. Her death led to more writings, mostly about my sudden and unexpected new kink. I like being choked, and not the regular kind.