There's a point in everyone's life where at some point there's someone you hate: someone you just wish that they'd disappear forever. People sometimes wish the people they hate dead, and sometimes they even make sure they die. There are some people out there who are so angry with someone that they will kill them and even that is divided in two. There are those who would kill and regret, not knowing really what they did. Then there are those who plan for ages and carry out that murder with cool planning, making it look accidental or even giving themselves and alibi. Jim Moriarty had planned his murder carefully. It would be a tragic accident and nobody would ever suspect him, for two reasons. One: the whole thing would look accidental as nobody would even suspect the near-untraceable poison he had mixed in with the cream. And two: nobody would ever suspect him, merely because he was a twelve-year-old boy.
Jim knew how people thought. He knew that Carl Powers was a bully. The worst thing though was he knew how clever he was. Jim Moriarty was a genius and he knew it, and he wasn't afraid to use his intelligence to hurt people. Carl Powers laughed at him because of his intelligence, his lack of sporting ability, his Irish accent, anything he could possibly laugh at. Cruelty like that deserved to be punished, so Jim stole a powerful and untraceable poison from a pharmacy and mixed it in with Carl's medication.
It was no secret to anyone that Carl had medication. Carl had bad eczema all over his arms and his legs. He had cream for it just as anyone with bad eczema would do. Jim was good with timing as well. He had planned this for weeks. He knew that Carl would go down to London for a swimming competition. It was almost too perfect. He'd switched the creams just before Carl's journey from Brighton was due. Nobody noticed at all.
Jim followed on the train at a safe distance. He couldn't really help it. It was his only weakness. He was so changeable. He had originally planned not to go to London but when the time came, the opportunity was too fantastic to miss. Nobody really paid him any attention on the train. Even when he got off he knew how to avoid detection. He stayed close to a woman in the crowd about the age of his mother and followed her until she left the station. Now... which way was the pool?
Carl Powers was the best swimmer at the school and had gone from Brighton that morning to go to a regional competition or something. Jim shouldered his backpack and headed towards the pool. He had remembered the name of the pool. He had to watch this happen. Jim smiled slightly as he neared the pool. He wanted to see their faces.
Carl was already there when he arrived. It wasn't hard to see him with those stupidly big feet. Oh... Jim paused, an evil glimmer in his eyes. He was wearing those trainers of his. He loved those shoes. Jim didn't understand why. They were shoes after all. Jim wandered over to the door leant on the door, watching. Carl had seen him though. Jim didn't waver as Carl came towards him. He was the one in control now.
"What the hell're you doing here?" asked Carl, folding his arms. Jim raised his eyebrows and smiled in an annoyingly superior way.
"What? Are you going to stop me? Am I not allowed to come and see you swim?"
"Why the hell would you do that? What is with you, freak? You gay or something?" Jim laughed and put his hands in his pockets.
"No one said that," he smiled. "On what evidence, Carl?" Carl squinted at him in an expression somewhere between puzzlement and disbelief.
"You're a freak," he said, and turned back to the cubical where the other swimmers were gathering. "See you at school, Paddy." Jim resisted the urge to push him into the pool right now.
But, he considered, that would just ruin the fun. Jim just stood there and watched, waiting for the competition to begin.
Nobody realised what was going on. Carl Powers had just tensed up in the water. He couldn't even yell for help. He couldn't swim to the side. It just looked like a fit. The poison worked through his system and froze up his muscles. Tragically, Carl was beyond help when they got him out of the water. Jim watched from afar, but for half a second, Carl's panicked eyes met his. Did he know? It was almost as if in his dying moments that Carl Powers had realised what Jim Moriarty had done. It was all Jim could do to keep himself from laughing. This was so much fun. He loved this, but still he would need a memento, a trophy: the trainers. Whilst every other person at the pool was fussing over Carl as his life drained out of him, Jim headed to the lockers. He had seen where Carl had left his key on the bench and opened it up. Ignoring every other item in the locker, he pulled out Carl's beloved white trainers and stuffed them into his backpack. They were nice shoes. Carl loved them. Jim left grinning as first-aiders tried to revive Carl. He stopped, arranged his face into a normal expression and was onto the street before anyone noticed. Now... back to Brighton.