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December 3rd, 20XX|12:07 pm|Dale Park, McPent Boat Shed
Clyde stared at the blood.
He had collected it into a small vial, just before he'd killed Gloria. It needed to be fresh- it had to be, for his purposes- and he couldn't have risked extracting it postmortem.
It had taken too long, he knew that. Clyde had only wanted to spend 5, maybe 10 minutes max on getting the blood. The longer it took, the more likely the blood lost its ties to life.
It had taken Clyde 30 minutes. 30 minutes of pinning Gloria to the ground, trying to extract a minute amount of blood, while Gloria fought, screaming and kicking-
But it was worth it. After three years of research, he finally had something *solid* to show for it-or rather, liquid.
At the beginning of his research, he had focused on looking for people that exhibited symptoms similar to his-a lack of empathy, loss of sensation. Anyone else who was empty like he was.
Of course, that had been a dead end. He'd realized that years ago. Records only got your so far, especially when the people you're looking for are dead.
So he ditched that approach, in favor of something with more substance.
The computer pinged at Clyde. He glanced at it, and grinned.
Finally, the results were ready.
YOU ARE READING
EMPTY
Mystery / ThrillerClyde Johnson is dead. He remembers dying very clearly. The pain flooding through his system, ebbing away at his vision, until everything went dark, empty. And yet somehow, for the past 4 years, he's still existed. He was almost identical to everyon...
