Chest

David Sumner

eBook (epub)

(0)

Donner la première évaluation

CHAPTER 1DONOVAN My name is Donovan Cloud, and today is the day I commit the perfect murder. Now a lot of debate can be made about...

CHF1.90

Download est disponible immédiatement

eBook (epub)

Description

CHAPTER 1DONOVAN My name is Donovan Cloud, and today is the day I commit the perfect murder. Now a lot of debate can be made about what qualifies a murder as perfect but here are my criteria: one, there must be no evidence that you committed the murder and no one must suspect you; and second and most importantly, there must be something ironic or wonderfully witty about the circumstances of the murder. Even the most devout moralist must crack at least a minimal smile when they hear about it. I drove my parent's car down Red Cherry Lane. It was a rather non-descript neighborhood, full of middle class houses nestled in a little pocket of Florida suburbia. I parked along the side of the road in between the driveways of two houses. I was a good eight or nine houses away from Chris Rohr's house. If anybody happened to look out a window I didn't want them to see my blue KIA Rio in Chris' driveway. They're less likely to notice me if I simply walk into and then later out of his house than if I spent a minute getting into and starting my car. And of course, however long it took me to do what I came to do is how long my car would be sitting in the driveway for all to see. I exited my car, making sure I brought the wrapped gift box, and started walking on the sidewalk towards Chris' house. I was wearing a long sleeve button shirt and dark baggy pants. A little heavy for March in Florida but it was perfect attire for the perfect murder. I was looking at all the upper middle class houses as I walked down the sidewalk, holding Chris' present. Most of them were two-story, single family homes. This included Chris's which I had only been to once before. On New Year's he had thrown a party to which half the senior class showed up for, including me. I really had nothing better to do. Besides I like to study how the masses spend their lives and interact with each other. It was fortuitous that I did. I loosely formed my plan that night alone in my room. Now I'm going to put it into effect. I can't wait! I was glad that I had parked so far away 'cause I needed time to stop giggling and put on my serious face. I had bought a ticket to, and been seated for, a movie about half an hour ago. It was some unfunny Adam Sandler piece of crap. I snuck out of the theater's exit ten minutes after the lights went dark. I would keep a hold of the ticket stub. It was an imperfect alibi, in fact it would not stand up in the least if they had some kind of concrete evidence against me but it would work to create doubt if anybody suspected me. I reached his driveway and started walking towards the front door of the house. His house was a cream colored, two-story single family home, with a garage and driveway. His lawn was full and green, like every other lawn on the block. I looked at his car in the driveway, a dark blue sports car of some kind, probably given to him as a gift for making his parents proud by winning the state championship last year. That and not flunking. I finally got to his front door and rang the doorbell. I glanced at my watch with the hand not holding his gift. 2:35 P.M. After a minute the door opened and Chris Rohr stood there wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. He was a little taller than me and a lot more athletic. He was on the basketball team and very popular, dating Chelsea Vain, one of the hottest girls in school. I wasn't jealous however; the guy was living a relentlessly mediocre life, barely aware of being awake. Being as thoughtful and intelligent as me would be beyond his comprehension. He looked at me curiously. &quote;Donovan, what are you doing here?&quote; he asked. &quote;I'm here for your birthday party. I brought you a present.&quote; &quote;Oh, you know it's not for another 4 hours right?&quote; he asked. &quote;Oh, it isn't?&quote; &quote;No, why don't you come back around seven,&quote; he said. &quote;Okay. Can I use your bathroom real quick though? I got to go bad.&quote; &quote;Yeah, sure, come on in,&quote; he offered. I stepped into his house and found myself in the middle of his living room. There were two sofas, a recliner and a flat table in the middle. No TV, but there was a nice stereo system. Obviously this area was designed more for gathering in conversation rather than sucking the mind dry with sitcoms; although, I shudder to think of the kind of inconsequential and banal conversations that take place within Chris Rohr's family. In the middle of the room was a staircase that led upstairs to where most of the bedrooms were. &quote;It's right through the family room,&quote; he said. &quote;Thanks,&quote; I said and started walking towards the bathroom. I exited the living room and was in the family room. There was a large, flat screen on one wall with sofas and chairs in a horseshoe shape in front of it. In the middle of the semicircle of seats in front of the TV was a wide chest that was being used as a coffee table. I knew from my last time here that it was where they kept the DVDs. I kept walking, past the stairs that led to the bedrooms, to the hall that connected to the bathroom and the laundry room and walked inside the bathroom, hitting the light as I closed the door. I looked at the gift box that was in my hand. I looked at myself in the mirror and took a deep breath. I was so nervous. I've never killed anybody before. I practiced on one of our neighbor's dogs but I imagined it would be far different for a person. I would have to be successful. If I tried to kill him and failed, I could spend a very long time in prison and that's if he didn't kill me. He was very athletic, great basketball player, and a lot stronger than me. The only advantage I had was the element of surprise. I looked down at the gift box. I flushed the toilet to maintain my deception and opened the bathroom door. I saw Chris standing next in the dining room looking at me as I left the bathroom. &quote;Are you good?&quote; he asked. &quote;Yeah, thanks, hey you want to open your present?&quote; &quote;I don't know maybe I should wait 'till the party.&quote; &quote;I don't think I'm going to be able to make it that late,&quote; I lied. &quote;All right, I'll open it now.&quote; I walked over to him and handed him the present. He sat it down at his dining room table and began to unwrap. I found myself getting excited and nervous. Was this going to work? I said, &quote;Hey are your parents here?&quote; &quote;Nope it's just me,&quote; he said. I of course, already knew ahead of time that he would be alone and I had also not heard anyone else in the house. I just wanted to make sure. He was nearly finished opening it. &quote;You know you're probably the only person who is going to give me any kind of present tonight. Most are probably just coming for the free food,&quote; he said as he finished un-wrapping the box. It was funny how friendly he was being to me. Usually he rips on me in class. I guess when his jock douche bag friends aren't around he doesn't feel the need to hassle me for laughs. Or maybe he just really wanted his present. He opened the box and was puzzled by what he saw. He reached into the box and pulled out a hammer. &quote;What's this?&quote; &quote;It's a hammer,&quote; I explained. &quote;Well, no shit, but why?&quote; &quote;Look I engraved it.&quote; He turned the hammer, looking at the other side. The word 'Chris' was sloppily carved into the wooden handle. &quote;It just seemed to be poetic&quote;, I said. It was; it was meant for him and him alone. &quote;Okay&quote;, he said, obviously uncomfortable with my lack of conformity to his social norms. Social norms that did not include giving a hammer as a birthday present. &quote;Well, thank you. How long did it take you to carve this?&quote; &quote;Two days, off and on. I accidently jammed one of the woodcarving tools into my hand.&quote; I showed him the band aid that was on my left palm. He winced when he looked at it. &quote;Ouch! I'm sorry.&quote; &quote;Don't be, you're worth it.&quote…