The Dizygotic Killer
Two: Motivation
Every day when I turn on my TV, I get novel news about the Dizygotic case. Today, Detective Handsome had dogs sniff the Miller-Sanchez’s yard, hoping to find a trail of the killer.
I had a dog when I was seven years old. He was a small retriever who had a brother that looked exactly like him. The other dog stayed with my grandma while I kept one as a pet. I named him Hermes because my mother wouldn't stop talking about the expensive brand. Every day I’d give Hermes a break and let him roam our front yard for his doggie needs. One day Hermes didn't come home after his daily stretch so ma was beyond pissed. Half the local police department came to my home, which was stupid because it's a dang dog, and questioned our neighbors. A bunch of resources and time were lost because of the commotion.
The next day, the lady who lives across my street rat me out to the PD and made a statement that she saw me last with Hermes. One, she's crazy. She spent half her elder years talking to plants. Two, she was probably just bored. But PD took her word against my pleas because I guess old ladies look more truthful than younger girls. That following day, the department found Hermes’s remains at a park, which I thought was abandoned, a couple miles down the road from my street.
The cops described me as psychotic, insane, inhumane and other gruesome things. It was painful and rude. I knew I was disorganized and inexperienced but I was aroused.
I was motivated to kill.
I had a dog when I was seven years old. He was a small retriever who had a brother that looked exactly like him. The other dog stayed with my grandma while I kept one as a pet. I named him Hermes because my mother wouldn't stop talking about the expensive brand. Every day I’d give Hermes a break and let him roam our front yard for his doggie needs. One day Hermes didn't come home after his daily stretch so ma was beyond pissed. Half the local police department came to my home, which was stupid because it's a dang dog, and questioned our neighbors. A bunch of resources and time were lost because of the commotion.
The next day, the lady who lives across my street rat me out to the PD and made a statement that she saw me last with Hermes. One, she's crazy. She spent half her elder years talking to plants. Two, she was probably just bored. But PD took her word against my pleas because I guess old ladies look more truthful than younger girls. That following day, the department found Hermes’s remains at a park, which I thought was abandoned, a couple miles down the road from my street.
The cops described me as psychotic, insane, inhumane and other gruesome things. It was painful and rude. I knew I was disorganized and inexperienced but I was aroused.
I was motivated to kill.
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yeah, this story definitely scares me