In The Eyes Of A Murderer
A Scream Fic.
Don't ask me why I killed her. Anyone that is into physiology would say it was because guilt was gnawing away at my corrupt soul, very slowly, and that I didn't want to talk about it. My answer, as the person who actually knows why I did it, the answer is : I don't know why I did it. She always was a bitch. Parading around like she was something special. Oh, she has an i-Pod. Yes, you and the entire world. She irritated me so much, and when Jack invited her into the group, I snapped. We weren't known for being popular, our group. More like the class clowns, the nerds. They, the class, just expected us to be us. None of us would be the prime suspect for a murder. They got that wrong.
So, when Jack invited her in, I tried desperately to hold onto the last bit of my sanity. I swear to the man upstairs I tried so god-damn hard to tolerate her, stay in control. But the devil in me won, and it felt good. Since Halloween was fast approaching, I bought a Scream outfit. The irony was too tempting to ignore, I was going to scare my friends when we watched Scream 2. I found that knife, bent and bloody, in a park bin. At first, hand on heart, I hadn't intended to do it. I was only going to wear the Scream suit to scare them. But the more I thought about it, the more irresistible it became. It would be so easy. Run the knife through the little bitch's throat, perhaps make Jack watch, then kill him too? So many possibilities, and I had to choose! I'd never been able to choose before. Not been able to choose that Mom didn't leave, Dad dying, and that little whore just getting allowed into our group.
I was drawn in.
I didn't plan anything except for the day. October thirtieth. A day before Halloween. So I jumped in my scarlet car, knowing that Jack lived on Apple Drive. A crappy name.
Obviously, when I rapped on the door, he gave his goofy grin, and allowed me in. I said I was in the neighbourhood, and needed a pee. Strangely, he believed the excuse, and claimed he'd be in the kitchen. I hopped into the bathroom, changing into my Scream costume. Gripping my knife, I proceeded to the kitchen. There he was. I took no hesitation, lunged forwards, and pushing the blade slightly into his throat.
Drip … drip … drip …
The blood dripped, so beautiful, gracefully fell onto the floor. My manic smile was reflected on a kitchen knife … this was going to be fun …
Please tell me where I've gone wrong, or whatever.
