The Perfect Murder

Creating the perfect murder isn't easy. Not even when you're a genious with the highest IQ level ever seen.

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3. Shana Quake

 

I pulled my hood over my head, with my long hair tied into a tight ponytail. The woman walked right in front of me, but she didn’t even notice that I was there. I made sure she walked a bit away before I followed; I wouldn’t let her out of my sight.

The houses changed from big villas to smaller houses and we ended up in something that looked more like a civilized trailer park than anything else. I couldn’t see the blonde hair anymore, she was already inside. There was no light in the windows, why would there be? She never let the light on at Mondays, she went straight to bed.

I sneaked up to the front door, and silently opened it. She didn’t even lock it! She literally invited me to come in. I could see the bed, and the bulge under the blanket. She was in bed. I made sure I had my gloves on, and plastic bags on my shoes. My contacts were in the right place, and all my hair tied back underneath the hat I just put on. I was ready.

My heart raced, with no end. A few deep breaths and I sneaked up to the door frame, standing only a few feet away from her bed. She didn’t snore, and the blanket only covered half of her naked body. I felt a tickling sensation in my fingers. I was eager. Impatient. And every time my patience became lower and lower.

The last step before I stood right beside her. I could touch her skin, and if only her eyes were open… my hands worked on their own. Quiet I removed the second pillow from her bed, and laid it on her head. I pressed with all my power, and now I could feel her struggling. It must feel like waking from a nightmare, only to find that it was real.

She didn’t give up quick. Liked the fight, even though she knew she would lose in the end.

Damn! She scratched me. Luckily it didn’t bleed! When she finally gave up, I removed the pillow. Her eyes were still open. Nice… I putted the pillow back on its place, found a cotton bud in my pocket, wetted it and started to carefully clean all of her fingernails before I cut them down. I removed the cut off nails, and then I made sure she laid nice on her bed. I didn’t close her eyes. Liked them with their eyes open.

I walked three blocks away, to my car. I knew there was no CCTV in the area, so I wouldn’t be caught on there. I changed shoes and placed the pair I had used outside a random house. Then I drove away, home.

I unlocked my door, my hair hang loose and I had removed my hood, and the pillow I’d shoved up under my t-shirt. Underneath the sweat pants I wore at the trailer I wore leggings. My used clothes was in a trash bag in my car, and tomorrow I would get rid of it.

She was my third. A bigger thrill every time… the CSI’s could just begin, they wouldn’t find any connections to me. When I stepped inside my house, the first thing I did was to find my notebook. I wrote down the location and date. Nothing about a murder, and besides; if the police ever came to my house the notebook could be dissolved in water, leaving no trace. One of my own inventions…

The next morning, I drove for about thirty minutes before finding just the right trashcan, in a place where there wasn’t anyone around. I took the bag and made sure nothing hang out before dumping it in the can. I walked casually back to my car and drove to the supermarket. I needed some milk, and maybe a newspaper?

The murder was the headline on almost every newspaper I could find. Success! They all had pictures of her and  the others with their eyes open. Starring at the viewer. A smile escaped my lips, when I saw it. I bought the milk and a paper, the one with the best pictures of their open eyes. The cashier looked weird at me, but I just said that my husband was very interested in the murders for his new book. She nodded and I walked out of the store.

I hand the headline up on my bedroom wall. I could always defend it, with my new book. I actually wrote one, but I always said it was my imaginary husband, so I wouldn’t draw any attention. I had a plan of publishing it in a male name, so no one would ever know… confessing through a book sounded like a perfect idea for me. They didn’t call me clever for nothing in school. I graduated high school when I was 11. And then straight to college, and further on the university. My parents were so proud, but then they went on vacation and never returned.

I guess that broke my heart. I don’t know really, I can’t find my heart. Of course I know where it is placed, but I don’t know if my heart exists in a metaphorical sense. I’ve never had a boyfriend or a friend at all. I didn’t mind being on my own. Doesn’t bother me really.

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