September Will Never End, chapter 4
I left behind all my anger towards her. I gained back my heart and soul, but they had been tainted by her blood and my emptiness.
She was left with fear that would always course through her veins. If there were one thing she would always remember, it would be that night. September 15. How nice it would be if she had a severe case of amnesia, but could still remember that night.
If that wasn't enough, there was also the fact that I was still at large, and she wasn't saying a word. She was too scared. She told everyone what had happened to her, but refused to say who I was. She was scared that if she told, I would come back after her, the boys, or that bastard. Stupid bitch, I wouldn't waste my time and energy. Well, at that point anyway...
I was enjoying my freedom while it last. I knew that eventually she would speak up, and I was going to be relatively easy to find and incarcerate. I wasn't going to play innocent. I wasn't going to plead insanity. Hell, I believe I'm one of the sanest people on this damn Earth. I wouldn't exactly say that I was justified in my actions, but how wonderful it felt to get my revenge.
People sometimes say, "An eye for an eye makes everyone blind." But what people don't understand is that they are already blind. The moment the light touches your face as you exit your mother's womb, you become blind. People talk about blindness all the time-blind by love, blind with hate. What else is out there? Every other emotion one can have is a byproduct of love and hate, so therefore; everyone is blind. Of course, I am as well, but I'm just more intelligent than everyone else... Even if the police officers tend to disagree. Ah, the day I was caught-THAT was a humorous situation.
***Flashback***
It had been about eleven months before Adrienne could finally say something, and it wasn't even on purpose. She said it in her sleep, and that other fucker had heard and reported it. Thus, the manhunt started. I didn't try to hide. It was the first week of September before anything was even said about me, and it was my neighbor's six-year-old daughter.
She had come over to my house as I sat outside in my swinging chair smoking on a cigarette. She asked me if I was the man everyone was after. The innocence of a child is amazing to a man, such as myself, filled with dark thoughts. I told her I was. She's the other person that could talk to me after what had happened. She asked me why I did it.
I remained silent, looking into the brown eyes of this innocent, blonde-haired, girl. I always had wanted a daughter, but it hasn't happened yet. I suppose I would like her to look like my neighbor's daughter. I would want her to be courageous and brave. I would want her to stand up for what she believes. I would want to tell her all my stories.
I looked down at the little girl in her blue sweater and jeans-her straight hair blowing slightly in the light gusts of wind. She asked me again. I told her to go home.
She did as I told her, reluctantly. She ran inside her big, white, house. From the bay window in her home, I saw her run up to her mother. She was talking very quickly and pointed over at me. Her mother looked out the window and stared. Then, she sternly glared at her daughter. She started to yell something, and pointed up the stairs. The young girl hung her head in shame, and slowly walked up the stairs.
She had tried to tell her mother about me, but either her mother didn't believe her or she was too scared. My neighbors all thought I was weird. They thought I had some strange mental illness. For a while, I wondered if they were right, but then I remembered: Crazy people don't know they're crazy.
The little girl was determined to turn me in, though. After school one day, instead of getting on the school bus, she walked over to the police station. The officers didn't really believe her, but she remained persistent. She was not going to leave until they came and arrested me. The police chief, with a smile, told the little girl he would take her home and have a talk with me. Lo and behold, he found me-the accused convict. I was outside when he pulled up. I had my black, leather jacket wrapped around me with a pile of freshly raked leaves encircled around me.
The next thing I know, I have an officer pointing a gun at me, radioing for backup. In about thirty seconds, it seemed like twenty police cars pulled up. All of the cops jumped out and pointed their guns at me. A few were shouting orders. By the looks of everyone, one would think that I must have murdered a ton of people. Yes, I was scared. I hate guns, and dying by a gunshot wound is not how I want to go. Needless to say, my arrest went along in a rather smooth manner.
"How stupid do you have to be to be discovered by a six-year-old?" the cops all laughed at me.
"Very stupid, I guess...considering a community of adults and about forty cops couldn't find me hidden in plain view," I would answer.
The day was September 14.
***End Flashback***
She was left with fear that would always course through her veins. If there were one thing she would always remember, it would be that night. September 15. How nice it would be if she had a severe case of amnesia, but could still remember that night.
If that wasn't enough, there was also the fact that I was still at large, and she wasn't saying a word. She was too scared. She told everyone what had happened to her, but refused to say who I was. She was scared that if she told, I would come back after her, the boys, or that bastard. Stupid bitch, I wouldn't waste my time and energy. Well, at that point anyway...
I was enjoying my freedom while it last. I knew that eventually she would speak up, and I was going to be relatively easy to find and incarcerate. I wasn't going to play innocent. I wasn't going to plead insanity. Hell, I believe I'm one of the sanest people on this damn Earth. I wouldn't exactly say that I was justified in my actions, but how wonderful it felt to get my revenge.
People sometimes say, "An eye for an eye makes everyone blind." But what people don't understand is that they are already blind. The moment the light touches your face as you exit your mother's womb, you become blind. People talk about blindness all the time-blind by love, blind with hate. What else is out there? Every other emotion one can have is a byproduct of love and hate, so therefore; everyone is blind. Of course, I am as well, but I'm just more intelligent than everyone else... Even if the police officers tend to disagree. Ah, the day I was caught-THAT was a humorous situation.
***Flashback***
It had been about eleven months before Adrienne could finally say something, and it wasn't even on purpose. She said it in her sleep, and that other fucker had heard and reported it. Thus, the manhunt started. I didn't try to hide. It was the first week of September before anything was even said about me, and it was my neighbor's six-year-old daughter.
She had come over to my house as I sat outside in my swinging chair smoking on a cigarette. She asked me if I was the man everyone was after. The innocence of a child is amazing to a man, such as myself, filled with dark thoughts. I told her I was. She's the other person that could talk to me after what had happened. She asked me why I did it.
I remained silent, looking into the brown eyes of this innocent, blonde-haired, girl. I always had wanted a daughter, but it hasn't happened yet. I suppose I would like her to look like my neighbor's daughter. I would want her to be courageous and brave. I would want her to stand up for what she believes. I would want to tell her all my stories.
I looked down at the little girl in her blue sweater and jeans-her straight hair blowing slightly in the light gusts of wind. She asked me again. I told her to go home.
She did as I told her, reluctantly. She ran inside her big, white, house. From the bay window in her home, I saw her run up to her mother. She was talking very quickly and pointed over at me. Her mother looked out the window and stared. Then, she sternly glared at her daughter. She started to yell something, and pointed up the stairs. The young girl hung her head in shame, and slowly walked up the stairs.
She had tried to tell her mother about me, but either her mother didn't believe her or she was too scared. My neighbors all thought I was weird. They thought I had some strange mental illness. For a while, I wondered if they were right, but then I remembered: Crazy people don't know they're crazy.
The little girl was determined to turn me in, though. After school one day, instead of getting on the school bus, she walked over to the police station. The officers didn't really believe her, but she remained persistent. She was not going to leave until they came and arrested me. The police chief, with a smile, told the little girl he would take her home and have a talk with me. Lo and behold, he found me-the accused convict. I was outside when he pulled up. I had my black, leather jacket wrapped around me with a pile of freshly raked leaves encircled around me.
The next thing I know, I have an officer pointing a gun at me, radioing for backup. In about thirty seconds, it seemed like twenty police cars pulled up. All of the cops jumped out and pointed their guns at me. A few were shouting orders. By the looks of everyone, one would think that I must have murdered a ton of people. Yes, I was scared. I hate guns, and dying by a gunshot wound is not how I want to go. Needless to say, my arrest went along in a rather smooth manner.
"How stupid do you have to be to be discovered by a six-year-old?" the cops all laughed at me.
"Very stupid, I guess...considering a community of adults and about forty cops couldn't find me hidden in plain view," I would answer.
The day was September 14.
***End Flashback***
