This centers on a deranged woman's path to becoming a complete nihilistic and feral serial killer. Emma Woodburn was put in the asylum for eleven years after killing her own husband and ten-year old son, along with the aging mother of a detective.
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THENIGHT INCIDENT
In 2014, Mr. Summers was just any normal family man and working man trying and dying for a promotion at Barnes & Noble Inc. But it wasn't his silver platter when his dear beloved sister Aunt Kitty barged into the business, bringing along her permed, brunette hair, expensive perfumes and the attitude to kill.
To put out simply, Mr. Summers had been rivaling Aunt Kitty for a decade. But why would anyone want to antagonize their own sister at the office? You would ask. Not for Mr. Summers, ofcourse. Everyone at the company usually mistakened him as Quentin Tarantino's doppleganger but Aunt Kitty was the exact impression of the actress who played Legally Blonde twice. It was only less obvious when she put her glasses on, which was the only thing brother and sister had in common.
Mr. Summers reserved over nine parking spots for himself every morning hell but Aunt Kitty would always be the first to invade his home with her silver Masserati. The words "CALL ON ME A BLONDIE" plasted clearly on the back. Why did he despise his sister so much to the extent he even dreamt of suffocating her with a pillow in her sleep?
Since childhood, Kitty had been raining down the cloud of public humiliation. The name calling, getting his head shoved into toilets and all those sick rumors was all her crafty work. He lived and breathed for days, watching through the windshield, as Kitty parked that perfect Masserati in his only space provided, she rolling down the glass and lifting her arm to give him the middle-finger in midair.
He, unlike his co-workers and boss, compared her to the female Osama Bin Laden. The terrorist of Barnes & Noble. If not a terrorist, the anti-Mary Poppins instead. What I would give to go full John-Wick on that woman, Mr. Summers muttered to himself as she got out of the Masserati and modelled, middle-finger still pointed to him. For once, I wish I was Alice and she being Jill Valentine so I could assassinate her and rid her from existence.
And to believe that Mr. Summers actually purchased a Silencer from that gun store just to kill the menacing Kitty in the office at broad daylight. He actually did purchase that gun with extra bullets but it wasn't like placing an online order on Amazon Prime. He sat there at his desk, with those two little people standing on his shoulders and both whispering voices of motivation.
He imagined it. The day he got up from the seat, loaded the Silencer and followed Kitty into the restroom for him to splatter her brains out. But in the end, who would be the one in jail for first-degree murder? Which of the Summers would be strong enough to look him through the glass at visiting hours? Mrs. Summers? Timothy? His best buddy Austin? Or the "I don't give a shit" daughter Brianna?
It was during that era when his sexual desires for Mrs. Summers were sinking midway into the bottomless abyss.
"How's your sex life, pervert?" Kitty's booming voice echoed in his ears as he cruised his way through Cloud 9. Why not just kill the bitch right now and end this nightmare?
"Hey, pervert. How's your sex life?"
The voice was high-pitched this time. Loud enough to jerk him awake.
"Kitty?", he gasped in despair.
"I said....how's the sex?", repeated his sister, bending forward his face and giving that malicious smile, "She want a divorce yet?"
Before Mr. Summers could even open his jaws to cast the devil out,
"No? Hm. I guess she still has faith in you after all," she went on mocking, "Why don't you see the doctor, sugar? It could possibly be the case of low sperm count or your tiny thingy isn't sparking anymore. It's probably given up on you as well. Who knows?"
Mr. Summers opened his mouth but again,
"You should quit therapy, you know. I don't think it's doing any of you good. I mean, you've tried pills, you've tried to be more open, you've been to all the night clubs, strip clubs but you stillcan't do poor Mrs. Summers for one night. Wow. What a disappointment. It's only a matter of seconds till Mrs. Summers gets banged by that sexy Jewish kid from nextdoor and asks for more. I bet she's started already. Think about this, little brother. You're sitting here pretending the world is a peaceful place, while that young, hunky stud of a neighbour has already entered her.
Oh, this is bad. You should get those cameras, you know. They'll do just fine. But how's Brianna and Austin? I know how you guys love to wage your wars at the usual days. Did you forget Timothy's sixth birthday coming on next week Monday?"
Mr. Summers opened his jaws but yet again,
"Yeah, you did. Why do you always forget, little brother? I thought it was Mrs. Summers who was the one always forgetting things. Oh, but is she still cutting herself in the bathroom? Is Timothy still watching her do it? I don't think that's professional mothering for the boy, lil' bro. I think I'll talk to her one of these busy days. Let her bring Tim over to my place till she's recovered from her borderline disorder.
We'll chat later. Gotta get that promotion."
He watched as she modelled her way out of sight, his jaws still left hanging and a fly halfway buzzing into it.
"That your sister?", Mia, a fat Asian single mother and buddy alarmed, "I'd buy a shotgun and murder her in the bathroom if I were you."
On the following day on February 5, 2014, approximately 10:24, after Kitty parked in his same spot and raised the middle-finger. After resisting the urge to smash that stupid Masserati with his son's baseball bat. It was the bored Mr. Summers who received the letter for the promotion to Director. The news so disturbing to her ears, Kitty was unable to escape the reality of her brother rubbing it in her face. She put her own fatal instinct to the ultimate use.
Mr. Summers left work late to celebrate. Drinks and more booze were on the house at that night club with Uncle Sam and the other boys. He couldn't hold his liquor. It had reached to the maximum level where he completely ignored that exotic lady in mini-skirt who was dying to take him home.
He drove away when Uncle Sam and the boys begged and pleaded with him not to. He drove, at approximately 10:30 that night, straight to his parking lot at the office and started stripping. It was followed by the swinging of his belt in the air and singing of the National Anthem.
Uncle Sam and his boys were late to rescue him due to the CCTV cameras that were secretly monitored by Kitty that night. Like the good sister she was, her fiendish fingers forwarded the whole video to YouTube. The next day, it had already got a hundred views, forty comments, hundred likes and zero dislikes. The most liked YouTube video of the year by then, titled "Poor Mr. Summers. He Couldn't Hold His Liquor."
The whole day was full of laughs and cries. His whole life had been full of laughs and cries.
