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"i've lost my mind." _______
Elias killed a girl this morning. He had mindlessly committed the violent crime. The naturalness of it coming like a second nature to him.
He remembers the kill vividly. The way the knife glided across her throat, almost like he was cutting into butter. The blood oozing out of her pale neck. Dripping onto his skin. The girl's unresponsiveness to his teasing. It was all so very fresh. Fresher than her dead body that was now the topic of the news.
"After five years of peace there's been another murder in the town of Woodfield. The body of seventeen year old, Clarissa Evans has been found just outside the gated community of Cheshire. Residents are in a state of unrest. Tommy Evans, the older brother of the victim says he's heartbroken to hear about his sister's passing..."
Elias stifles a chuckle at that. The residents weren't in a state of unrest. If anything most of them don't even have a clue that Clarissa's dead. It's not like they knew she was homeless either.
Or maybe they did. Maybe they didn't care.
It was obvious to Elias that her family, Tommy probably included, had been abusing her. Running away and living on the streets weren't going to do her any good. Elias saved her from a life of suffering. He gave her a better option.
Death.
If anything Elias did her a favor.
"Did you kill that girl, Elias?"
He doesn't expect to hear that question while reminiscing about the sweet satisfaction of the kill.
And yet the aggravating noise that is his father's voice, asks him the stupid question. Elias turns his attention from the tv, that could be compared to a home theater screen, towards his father. It was past eight in the morning. He'd half expected his father to have left the house already to go to his office.
The mayor's office. A big room with windows that overlooked their town. With decor that was blander than the food Elias' mother made.
The man stands next to the leather couch his son is draped across, in a gray suit. His suit being the color of his equally gray hair.
John, is waiting for a response. Yet Elias won't give him one. Provoking the man further. Elias simply stares at him. He stares and stares. He's not moving from his state of relaxation on the couch. No movement. Except for the movement of his mouth, which he uses to finish the granola bar he took from the kitchen pantry.
