Sumika
What are the reasons murderers kill?
Don't get me wrong; I don't think it's right to kill anyone no matter what reason it is, but I sometimes ask myself that question.
Why?
Do they want revenge for society treating them badly? Do they think that killing people helps relieve their emotional pain? Are they just clinically insane?
Answers, anybody?
Guess not.
Recently, these questions have been popping up more often because of the BB serial murders that have been going on.
What's his motivation to kill?
I look out through the window of the train I'm riding. I'm returning home to Los Angeles from a business trip in San Francisco. I read the news regarding the murder cases with a startled expression.
There were three Wara Ningyo (straw dolls) left at the crime scene. Last time, there were four.
What I'm most worried about, is how I unfortunately live in the city where BB is killing people.
But I'm not too scared. What are the chances he'll end up trying to murder me anyway?
The train arrives in Los Angeles with a screech of the tires. I exit the doors, rolling my luggage along.
I walk the rest of the way home because I left my car in the garage at home.
My house isn't too far away, so it isn't that big of a deal. While walking, I just had to stop to admire various things around my house that have been there since forever. I notice new details that I did not notice before and smile, satisfied. There is something so indescribably relaxing walking through the summer evening.
"Home at last!"
I walk into my house with a cheerful expression. I've always been more of an indoor person who liked to stay home, so the business trips were often more than slightly stressful for me.
I look at the clock, the hour hand pointed at the eight, glad I ate dinner on the train. Bed time!
Before going to my room, feeling parched, I drank a cup of water refreshing me immediately. I instantly feel better and prepare to go to bed.
I lay in bed thinking about what I need to remember tomorrow.
And slowly, I fall asleep while thinking.
Squeak squeak! I hear the floorboards creaking.
I can't open my eyes.
Why can't I open my eyes?
I toss and turn to wake myself up, until finally, I'm able to force my eyes open.
I sit up, blinking and adjusting to the dark, and there I see a man with a knife. A very sharp knife.
He was tall and had disheveled black hair. His eyes were...unstable.
"Impossible." He says in disbelief. His eyes widen in temporary shock.
"What?"
Who is he and how did he get in? In my room with a KNIFE?
"I was sure I drugged the water she drank..." He mumbles, "No worries though," brandishing his knife, "I can still kill you like this."
Then he lunges at me.
"Shit." I rolled away from his assault and leap out of my bed. I need to think of something, quick.
"Why are you murdering people?"
He looks surprised for a second before reverting back to a glare.
"They've always treated me like a back up, like I was never a individual person. I was always second, always the back up. The back up. The back up." His crazed expression smiles insanely, and he lunges again.
This time, I'm not as lucky. He manages to pin me against the wall, one hand holding my own above my head and the other with the knife at my throat.
Just a flick away before taking my life.
"Why me?" I stall, trying not to sound desperate.
"Because, you were meant to die today anyways." He says this while looking above my head.
"How do you know?" I ask and look him into the eye. He seems slightly startled. He probably never had a victim who he had to kill while looking into their eyes.
"Well, you're about to die, might as well tell you." He smirks, and bright red eyes glint deviously, "I have shinigami eyes. I can see your real name and your lifespan."
My heart pounds in my chest, and I desperately try to get it under control, simultaneously wondering; What is his deal? If he's angry, he shouldn't take it out on me.
"No one is going to treat you like a real person if you don't treat them like real people." I know it probably isn't the smartest idea to provoke him, but it wasn't fair to the rest of the victims.
"I know, which is why my last victim will be myself."
Dang, this guy's insistent on killing me. He's sure not getting the meaning in my words.
But I am not letting him defeat me.
"But I know that you can change." I continue trying to persuade him, "Everyone can change. As long as they put in the effort to change."
He looks down at his feet as if in thought.
"I can help you, suicide and murdering is never the answer." I offer. Might as well put in all my effort, I was going to die anyway.
His arms fall slack to his sides and he lets go of me. He sinks to his knees, and guess what I see? There are tears falling from his eyes and trailing down his cheeks.
Real, honest, genuine tears.
"Are you okay?" I ask softly, looking at him in concern. This is a big change in character from his crazy insaneness just a bit before.
He nods and clenches his fists.
Did I unintentionally insult him or something?
"Look, I'm sorry if I unintentionally insー"
Next thing I knew, I was in his arms. What?
He was hugging me?