Feigning Innocence

The next day, I get ready per usual. I had time last night to discard my bloody clothes and

clean my Swiss Army Knife.

I took a shower and hid my knife in it's usual place. I go to school and meet Daniel by the

gates. He looks confused. "Where's your girlfriend?" He teased. I smile sheepishly.

"She might be sick. I can't call her landline in the morning because it'll wake her mother

up." I explain.

"Ah." Daniel and I head inside and we smoke a blunt in the lobby. We live in a shitty town

with shitty schools that do a shitty job at enforcing their shitty rules.

Daniel and I jostle around in the courtyard and shadow box each other. The bell rings and

we head to class. I am as carefree as ever. However, during class I am distracted. I keep

thinking about how it felt to kill Paulie. How it felt to be inside her while she convulsed and

inhaled her own blood.

She was tight. Surprisingly so. Her muscles flexed and her legs wrapped involuntarily

around me. As if she were pulling me closer. Her, like everybody I've killed had the same

look of fear in their eyes.

Their religion couldn't save them. They had no time to repent to God and no time to dwell

in what might be waiting for them when the strings of their life are finally cut loose.

I have yet to see a person I kill at peace with the fateful decision I gave them.

I decide I shall kill until I find one. That person at peace when I brutally murder them will

then be my last victim. I am shaken out of my thoughts when my teacher taps my desk.

"You are needed in the front office." She whispers discretely.

I smile at her. "Yes, ma'am. Should I take my stuff?" I ask. She nods gravely. I sling my

sack over my shoulder and get up. I make my way down to the office.

There are officers there. I nod at them.

"Wallace. We've got a few questions for you. If you please, follow us through here."

They lead me through the corridor and take me into a room.

I sit down. Immediately, they slide a picture across the tabletop surface.

"Do you recognize this young woman?" They ask. I look at the picture. "Yes. She's my

girlfriend." I answer. Plain and simple.

"If you need her, I'm afraid she's not here today. I think she might be sick."

"That's the thing, Wallace. She's not sick. She's dead." My jaw drops.

"You say she's what?" I ask, my voice wavering. Tears well up in my eyes. All our good

memories flash through my mind. Tears fall profusely and uncontrollably.

"Did she die peacefully?" I ask, looking up at the officers through my wet eyelashes. The

officers look at each other. The slide another photo across the table. This is the photo of

her body. She's still on the blanket, in the same position.

I gasp. I cry even harder and begin to hyperventilate.

"She was murdered. A clean, shockingly precise slice through her throat. Her throat was

cut and her insides violated. There was cum present inside her. You're not a suspect so

we're not going to ask for a sample, but we will need your prints."

"When was the last time you saw her?" One officer, she's female, asks me gently.

"Yesterday. I walked her home from school." I say, sniffling. I look at the picture again. I

chill of erotic excitement rolls through me.

I just decide to cry harder.

"This one. Take him home. He's not the one we're looking for."

When I reach home, I have more time to think. The police officers who were investigating

did not work with true vigilance. They didn't question me hard enough and decided I was

innocent based off my emotional response.

That revelation is scarier than I am. You've got the monsters who commit these acts, and

the dipsticks who are in charge of investigating them.

My mother reaches home a little while after I do. I again, commit to the act of innocence and continue to cry.

Mother hugs me. Then she whispers in my ear. "You did something to that girl, I just know it."