I Feel So Alive Again

Kellin.

Last night ( Friday ), I killed someone. This morning I drove to a crime scene, my crime scene. I found myself sitting in my car exactly two blocks away from the black letters reading ’ Crime Scene Do Not Cross ’ over and over again on top of the yellow plastic tape surrounding the area. I took a deep breath, ‘I won’t let this search get to me’ I thought to myself. At least I keep telling myself that But it won’t change anything though I wish it would. I ran my hands through my lengthy raven hair, then tugged at it in frustration. I had two options; turn myself in, or kill a local drug dealer that isn’t worth shit, and no one will care if they’re gone. Then show up at the crime scene and try to get close to a certain detective. In retrospect, I choose the second option. I pulled the hood of my hoodie up over my head and stepped out of the car.

I started walking down the sidewalk fighting the wind until I got to area where I placed the body so carefully. I always put the bodies carefully underneath lamp post after stitching them up ( something I learned from my mom, the stitches I mean ), when I didn’t dispose of them. I guess that’s why they gave me the name Shadow with Killer a the end due to the lamp post placing, not the most creative name but media isn’t ever really creative.

I stood with my hands in my pockets looking around, seeing a few reporters outside of the yellow tape despite for a story. Then there is me, and cops inside of the yellow tape. I glanced around until my sight came upon a specific detective. I stood there for a few minutes before he noticed me. He immediately came over to me, looking confused or angry, maybe both. On the way here I’d been thinking of ways I could ask him out, it wasn’t really a strong suit of mine despite my charm. He stood facing me, the crime tape dividing us. This is it, I have to do this right.

“Go out to dinner with me” I said handing him a slip of paper with a phone ( burner, you can never be too careful ) number on it. It was rather blunt. He stood silent, like he was going to speak but he couldn’t seem to get words out.

“I’m not taking no as an answer,” I said ending with a grin. “Call the number when you have an answer, Detective Fuentes” I said glancing down at his shield. I poked the metallic piece with my finger and turned around, then started walking away.

I got into my car and started driving home. I guess I had to sit around all day and wait for the phone to ring, if it did. If not I could try convince him at school, I need information that he has, and I will not stop until I get it.

I pulled into my driveway, and every time I did it just brought back feelings of hatred and anger ( the only ones I seem to have ). This damn driveway is what made me who, no what I am. Every time I pull in my mind blurs and goes back to that horrible night.

“Son, would you like to tell us what you saw?” The officer says to the young boy being held in police custody.

“I didn’t see anything” the boy replies, he’s in shock, but doesn’t want to give away anything. The police arrive almost twenty minutes after the 9-1-1 call. A boy sitting with his knees up to his chest, holding the hand of a dead man underneath a lamp-post in a San Diego suburban home driveway. Six bullet wounds, four clean in and out wounds, two other bullets lodged inside; both in the man’s abdomen. When the police arrived at the scene they saw a young four year old boy.

Only pieces of the memory came back each time, which made me more angry. All I want is for it to be continuous, I want to remember every part. I got out of my car, slamming the door shut and walking to the house. I looked down the see the tinted fading pink cement.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency” the operator speaks naturally into the phone, like a daily job, like nothing phases them. The boy unaware of what else to say tells the lady in the phone the address. He hangs up the phone, and puts it down. Slowly he walks outside. Hardly being able to breath at the sight in front of him.

“What is a puzzle without all the pieces” I said under my breath. I started calming myself down as I went through the door. I plopped down onto the couch and turned on the TV, I sat through a few episodes of Fresh Prince, before the phone started to ring. I grabbed my phone and saw it wasn’t ringing, this meant one thing, Vic. I smiled and picked up the burner phone.

“Hello” I answered, in my usual kind tone.

“Kellin?” he asked into the phone.

“Well, who else could it be?” I answered flashing out my anger out a bit into my tone of voice, but I don’t think he noticed.

“I will, go to dinner with you” he said lowering his voice, meaning he’s probably around people. I let out a sigh of relief, and then my anger was gone
.
“What time do I pick you up?” I asked. Then I started thinking he doesn’t know my age, he probably thinks I’m legal.

“Kellin, I hope you know this is a one time thing, I know you’re seventeen, and this is really inappropriate of me, and” He knows my age, now how can I convince him to go out with me.

“Shut up, and tell me what time to get you,” I said cutting off his rambling. “And, I’ll be eight-teen soon” I added.

“I know, but it’s still highly inappropriate” he replied.

“Well, maybe you’ll see it’s worth the risk” I countered. I heard him laugh into the phone’s mic.

“Okay, pick me up at eight” then he told me an address. For those few minutes on the call it wasn’t about getting information, or anything. I just want him to like me, I want this dinner to be perfect.