• Prologue:
    Boredom

    It’s surprising how much you think when you don’t have anything to do. Just sitting around, stuck in your head, looking back on fond memories. Though I suppose it is a little different in my case. Where as others would think of times they’ve been with friends or going on vacation, I reminisce about murder. Other peoples’ minds are filled with happiness, or in the case of most teenagers, angst. I find happiness in my mind as well, but through the destruction of those opposing me, rather than self-achievement.

    I guess I’m just a bit weird.

    Chapter 8:

    In the park, sitting on a bench by the pond, bored out of my skull. School’s been out for a few weeks. The school board scrambling to find someplace to put students during the investigation. From what I’ve heard, the principal doesn’t even want to let the students go to other schools. He says that as long as the students are out of school there won't be any more murders.

    The truth is, he’s scared. He wasn’t concerned when it seemed only students were being targeted, but Ms. Trases’ death shook him. He suddenly realized adults were at risk too. He couldn’t have cared less when some teenagers were killed, but as soon as there was a small chance he could be in danger. He isn't alone in his fear. The adults around town are starting to act edgy, afraid now that it seems the murders don't have a set demographic.

    Selfish assholes.

    That’s become one of the major forces driving me to continue my series of…let’s just call them confrontations. At first I thought people would change after seeing what happened to those who acted selfish, that I could unlock the good in others. Now I realize it was pointless. Humans have the amazing ability to completely ignore any faults in themselves, even when they can see them in others.

    Now my goal is different, I see that the people around me won’t change, so the best way to make this s**t-hole of a town is to take out the worst perpetrators. The only problem is finding out just who those are. I’ve been trying to figure it out since school was cut. It seems every time I decide on a target, a bigger a*****e arrives on the scene, eclipsing the actions of my previous mark. It seems the world has a more than abundant supply of cockbites and a** hats.

    I’m shaken out of my head by the sight of a familiar face, a beautiful face.

    Katie.

    She’s a ways away, on the bridge that splits the pond in two, with a couple of friends, trying to take advantage of the time off of school. There’s an adult just a few feet off, a parent most likely. The recent string of murders has put the whole community on edge. My mom only agreed to let me go outside if I brought her mace with me.

    One of Katie’s friends spots me, says something and the others turn. I raise my hand lazily. I’m ecstatic to see Katie, but I’d rather no look too excited. Katie waves back, flashing a smile.

    That smile, it was the first thing I noticed about her when we first met. She was the first person I ever spoke to in Middle school. I’d been nervous, not sure what to say to people, even back then I’d had “underdeveloped social skills” as the school councilors would say.

    Katie turns back, starts talking to her friends again. As they walk off, I turn myself and lay across the bench. Close my eyes. It's a nice afternoon, quiet since the park is practically deserted, warm but not too hot, calm breeze. A nice day to just relax.

    I lay there for a while, dozing but not quite asleep, taking in the chirps of birds, the rustle of grass, not really focusing on anything.

    I feel someone shove me. I open my eyes. Some guy is standing next to the bench.

    “Move,” He says, shoving me again. “I wanna sit here.”

    “Well in life we don't always get what we want,” I reply. I'm comfortable here and I sure as hell won't get up for this douche. “Sit somewhere else.”

    He tells me to “shut th ******** up, get the hell off the bench, and lose the smart a** attitude.” I respond, in an equally polite manner, to go suck himself off.

    The guy shoves me again.

    “Shut up and let me sit down you little pest!”

    I sit up, get a better look at the guy. He's a good foot taller than me, curly black hair down to his shoulders with a face reminiscent of Geddy Lee. In other words, he looks like a douche bag. A douche bag I know.

    Katie's ex-boyfriend