There's Nothing Sad About It
#1: June Carter
June Carter was beautiful. Her curly golden locks twirled all the way down her back, and when she’d bat those baby blue eyes at you your heart was sure to melt.
June had everything going for her: she was smart, funny, athletic, charismatic, charming--she had it all, and then some.
That’s only one perspective, though.
And you should know by now that there are at least two perspectives to every story.
So, let’s start again.
June Carter was beautiful. Her curly golden locks were spread all around her, soaked in a pool of blood. Her baby blue eyes were hidden under her eyelids, never to melt anyone’s heart ever again.
There was no doubt about it: she was dead.
Damian had taken me to her that August night. When we arrived, Steven was sitting on a log, eyes transfixed on June’s mutilated body. The knife was still in his hands, covered in June’s blood.
“You guys really did it,” I whispered in amazement.
Steven took his gaze off of June at the sound of my voice. He breathed in sharply. “Yeah. We did.” His voice was even quieter than mine was, however impossible that sounds. But there were absolutely no other noises in those woods that night, unless you count the insects buzzing around us, so I still heard him.
“Who did what?” I asked.
Steven and Damian were silent. After my first (official) kill, I realized that killing someone does that to you. A person who kills in self-defense would feel horror at what they had done, but not us. No, not us. We were speechless due to awe. The feeling killing gives us is like none other. It’s a high that no drug, no alcohol, and no sexual act could ever give us.
Instead, the scene turned into a vile game of charades. I was the guesser, while Damian mimicked holding a person down on the ground and Steven mimicked stabbing something repeatedly.
When the police found June Carter the next morning, livor mortis had set in and rigor mortis was at its height. June had twenty-three stab wounds.
The case was never linked to us, and is currently in a Cold Case File at the Pratt County Jail.
June had everything going for her: she was smart, funny, athletic, charismatic, charming--she had it all, and then some.
That’s only one perspective, though.
And you should know by now that there are at least two perspectives to every story.
So, let’s start again.
June Carter was beautiful. Her curly golden locks were spread all around her, soaked in a pool of blood. Her baby blue eyes were hidden under her eyelids, never to melt anyone’s heart ever again.
There was no doubt about it: she was dead.
Damian had taken me to her that August night. When we arrived, Steven was sitting on a log, eyes transfixed on June’s mutilated body. The knife was still in his hands, covered in June’s blood.
“You guys really did it,” I whispered in amazement.
Steven took his gaze off of June at the sound of my voice. He breathed in sharply. “Yeah. We did.” His voice was even quieter than mine was, however impossible that sounds. But there were absolutely no other noises in those woods that night, unless you count the insects buzzing around us, so I still heard him.
“Who did what?” I asked.
Steven and Damian were silent. After my first (official) kill, I realized that killing someone does that to you. A person who kills in self-defense would feel horror at what they had done, but not us. No, not us. We were speechless due to awe. The feeling killing gives us is like none other. It’s a high that no drug, no alcohol, and no sexual act could ever give us.
Instead, the scene turned into a vile game of charades. I was the guesser, while Damian mimicked holding a person down on the ground and Steven mimicked stabbing something repeatedly.
When the police found June Carter the next morning, livor mortis had set in and rigor mortis was at its height. June had twenty-three stab wounds.
The case was never linked to us, and is currently in a Cold Case File at the Pratt County Jail.
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I'm really enjoying writing this, and I love that you guys are enjoying it, too! :D