Manners, people. The simple, courteous idea that you should be polite to people instead of shoving doors in their faces and disregarding your surroundings.
I promise, there’s a specific story behind this.
My car is still in the shop from the little incident two weeks ago and I’ve been taking the bus when James has the car. Downtown is full of assholes. It doesn’t really matter which downtown you’re talking about, it’s full of assholes so it really should not have surprised me when this boy decided to ignore my existence. That’s the only explanation I have. I temporarily became invisible so when I was walking behind this kid he didn’t see me and that’s why he shut every door in my face, why he cut me off getting on to the same bus and then stole the last seat from a poor elderly woman who was forced to stand for several stops – and no, that elderly woman was not me, don’t even think that. He wasn’t just inconsiderate, he was rude.
Do you understand now why he had to die?
When some of the crowds had died down on the bus I took the free seat next to him where he slept, practically snoring against the window.
It’s like he was asking for it. Come on.
So there we sat, his bulky backpack taking up half of my seat, his body slumped over, looking dead already. I recognized that look right away. It’s my favourite look for public killings. I don’t do many of them but I love when they look like they’re sleeping. It makes things so much easier.
Especially with this asshole.
His backpack was excessively large, making it a little difficult to get my hand around it but it did mask my movements from the onboard security camera. One never can be too careful. Knowing I needed to strike quickly, I grabbed the scissors from my nail kit in my purse and rammed them into his side, hitting something squishy as I pushed it in as deep as I could. And then I sat with him while he bled out beside me, his backpack and hoodie absorbing most of the blood. Once my stop came, I plucked the scissors from between his ribs and went on my merry way. I found out later that night that James caught the case and would be strategically erasing the security footage from the bus. He’s so sweet that way.
According to the coroner, so my loving husband told me, the man didn’t suffer for long. We’re both disappointed to learn that news but the look on his face when I came home and he saw the bloody scissors made up for any disappointments in the past.
That man really does love me. Did I ever tell you how we met?
It feels so long ago, we’ve been through so much in these past 7 years. Back then I wasn’t always so careful and I didn’t nearly have as much back up as I do now when it comes to murder. I was on my own, not really concerned about anyone but myself. I wasn’t speaking to my parents and my sister was off doing god knows what. It was a rather lonely time.
But then I met James. He was just a uniformed officer then, so young and impressionable. He called me down to the police station to review my testimony as a witness to a murder – one I committed, of course – and somehow he saw what no one else could. He saw the truth about me and he kept my secret. No one had ever done that for me before.
In the past, when others learned my secret, it usually ended in a bad break up. Of bones.
I killed them.
But with James…I can’t explain it. He questioned me as a witness, he knew my secret, and he asked me out on a date. It was like he wanted to get to know every part of me and that had never happened before. Eight months later we were married and I haven’t looked back since. He is a rare man and I am so lucky to have found him. I mean we have our ups and downs, what couple doesn’t? But in the end, I love him with all my heart, I really do, and I know he loves me back.
Some have said that being in my line of work, being in a romantic relationship at all is a serious weakness; it leaves you vulnerable but I don’t agree. No, I do agree, except for the two of us.
As cheesy as it is, I think having James in my life is an asset. Not only has he been helpful in covering up crimes but he has also been supportive and sweet and just generally amazing. Plus he dotes on me like nothing else. Even after six years of marriage and two children who don’t belong to us.
What was I talking about?
Oh yes; assholes with no manners.
Dead assholes with no manners.
Know what this means, dear readers?
I know I had my little freak out last week, not being able to get my release but I was just so upset with that boy I didn’t even think about it. I didn’t try and psyche myself up for it, I didn’t try and plan it out, I just did it. I didn’t get to watch the lights go out which is definitely my favourite part but at least he’s dead. As long as I get the end result I’m happy. I even stabbed a waiter behind our favorite restaurant that same night just to make sure he wasn’t a fluke. James took us out for dinner to celebrate my return to normalcy. Whatever hold my mother had over me is finally broken, I hope.
Maybe that’s what I need to do now. Maybe I need to stop planning my kills all together. Just have a weapon handy at all times and when an opportunity presents itself combined with the uncontrollable urge I feel, I’ll do the deed.
It’ll be like a little surprise every day, finding out who’s going to die.
I’m still going to be careful, of course. No witnesses in any form. I can be carefully spontaneous, right?
Well anyways, thank you for your words of support, they meant a lot to me. I hope I never have to experience that kind of doubt again.
As always, dear readers,