I drifted away with the pouring sound of granola into an empty cup. I thought of life. It scared me. I thought of death. It sounded funny. I poured the Greek yogurt into the same cup and topped with more granola.
I remembered Windy. Windy had her legs on the backrest of the sofa in her house and her back against the floor. Facing the ceiling with her phone in both hands, Windy wanted to get up and decided to do so with a back roll but she rested on her neck instead, snapped on it and died almost instantly. I laughed at the bizarre memory. It was a simple death, not a very thoughtful way to die. An avoidable death.
I sat criss crossed on the new chair in my apartment and scooped a spoonful of yoghurt into my mouth. I drummed on the cup with my left Index finger– a sign I was becoming impatient– a sign my adrenaline was beginning to drop. I pushed another spoonful into my mouth and couldn't stop my eyes from dancing round the clock and the only sound I could hear was my heartbeat and a constant tick-tock. The silence sickened me and made me cringe. He will be back soon with a new victim, I pacified myself and we'll make love after, like we always do.
I know you must think I'm nefarious, but I'm not. I donate to charity to feed the poor and send little kids to school, I say my prayers daily and volunteer at humanitarian events. I swear to you, I am the type of person you want in your life. I am not a psychopath. I'm pretty much like you and every other person.
You see, the only difference is, I kill pretty girls as a hobby.
I absolutely loveeeeee this!