[Angela]
It was a few days later. As Patrick left for work, I sank into the couch, gripping the mug of coffee in between my hands. I switched on the television and flipped through the channels.
I settled with the Daily News that came up. There was a murder case in the north of California, at Sacramento. It was a gruesome sight. The murderer made it look like a messy job, but with close examination one could see that it was skillfully done.
The sheets were arranged carefully around the victim, with no stray bloodstains, so obviously she wasn't killed on the bed. Her hair was splayed out behind her, which was only possible if she was dragged downwards or dropped from a height. She was fully clothed, with blood soaking through her tank top and shorts, so it wasn't a sexual assault.
I was beginning to feel proud of myself for being so observant until I saw it. The trademark, which I had heard so many times, but never really saw it because we didn't order the daily papers and we hadn't kept up with news for a long time.
The trademark of death, of power, of murder.
The red smiley.
It was a… I guess you could call it a routine. The killer uses the victim's own blood every time, to paint a huge red smiley face on the wall above or behind the victim.
It stared back at me, with scarlet blood dripping down the perfectly formed circle, the curve of the eyes and mouth. It smirked as if mocking the police for not finding him after almost half a year. Throughout the 6 months there were 6 murders.
I felt sick to the bone at the thought of killing for fun. My hands shook and my coffee mug slipped from my hands, crashing onto the white carpet below.
"Dang," I muttered as I tried to shake off the uneasiness and went to get a rag to clean the mess up. At least the mug wasn't broken. I grabbed the cloth and mopped up the mess, wondering why I was so uneasy.
I mean, murders happen all the time, right? What's such a big deal? Why did I feel so queasy?
I decided that I wasn't feeling well so I called in work to take a day off. I climbed onto the already-made bed, intending to read a book or browse a fashion magazine.
I hadn't gone very far before my tummy started cramping and it was so bad I doubled over, clutching my abdomen.