5- Shad0w 367

5.
Shad0w 367:

I fired the gun and watched her fall to the floor, the life falling out of her body as I chucked the stolen gun into a pile of her blood. I turned and left, leaving the door open. I put my hood up, head down and I walked away, as if nothing happened. A few doors away I slipped into my house, ran inside and went straight into the drawing room. I grabbed a glass and poured myself a whiskey. I sat down at the table that was opposite a massive window that looked upon the messed up city. I took a sip of my whiskey and let the events sink in. I took another sip before leaving the glass and going upstairs. I changed my clothes, chucking the ones I wore that night under my bed, ready to burn in the morning. I slipped into bed and stared at the ceiling.
     A murder is very easy portrayed. Most people think they just need to kill them and hide them very well. They think that is what a perfect murder means. It doesn’t. You have to watch them every day, learn their daily routine, know there family, friends, everything about them and then you go in. You still don’t kill them, you be friendly, ask them if they’d like a drink, be a gentleman to them. And then on the fourth or fifth drink, you act. Then all you have left is the clean up, most of the time I just chuck them in the river by my boat house a few miles away. But tonight was so different, this time I waited longer, she was important to a lot of people, she wasn’t like my other victims, I didn’t need to chuck her body into the river, it was all set up perfectly. It would be her drunk ex-boyfriend, now her good friend that did it. Not the neighbour who had only met her getting his post out of the mailbox. It defiantly wasn’t him.
      I could hear a soft yell for Amy a few doors down. I smiled to myself. It was him. I listened some more, it went quiet. I closed my eyes and dreamt of the morning. Knowing it was going to be everywhere and anywhere. All I had to do was pretend to be upset, all I had to do was blend in with the mourners. 
     Half an hour later I could hear sirens in the background, I knew they weren’t coming here, but to Jem’s house, but in the morning I knew they’d come, they’d get a call, they’d search the gun for prints, they find his and arrest him. A drunk ex-boyfriend murderer, the classic. I knew they’d come, so I rolled over, my body ached and the sirens becoming softer and softer, before whispering into the dawn air
     “Let them.”