_____oh__prozac (_____oh__prozac) wrote in _oneliners,
_____oh__prozac
_____oh__prozac
_oneliners

This story started with that one line jogging a memory, and then the rest of the story came with it. It doesn't seem like it BUT it really was spurred on by the oneliner. Also I plan on posting it a couple different places.
And I'm really not as psychotic as I seem in this story.

I am a generally loving and nice person.

I don't really enjoy fighting with people and I don't live to screw around with people, their lives, or their minds.

You would see, then, why I usually look at the good in people. I see the bad, but I wouldn't hold it against anyone.

Unfortunately this leads to problems.

Most people when you hate them, you just hope they won't bother you too much. Or that they don't interfere with your life or you just focus on the good.

But not when they're your best friend.

Mandy and I started off with a fist fight.

In third grade.

We from then on pretended that the other didn't exist, and it all worked very nicely. Like I said, when you hate them, you just hope the other wants to avoid you too.

But at some point or another, we somehow got closer, by the fact that I was getting into the whole "goth scene" I suppose, and if anyone was goth in our school..it was Mandy.

She hadn't always been that way, in fact the exact opposite and in third grade, a prissy tattle-tale with bad taste in clothing was the devil in my opinion.

So there I was, best friends with Mandy.

The reason? Look back on what I said before. I ignored the bad.

In fact, I might have not ignored it at first, maybe I was even blind to her faults, or maybe I saw her faults as her strengths.

I don't know, but something made me think Mandy was a good person.

How very wrong I was..

I started noticing her shortcomings very slowly. It would only come up once in awhile, but I would dismiss it. I disagreed with her veiws very often, but I kept my mouth shut, because I figured I was just too stupid to understand where she was coming from.

But it all got very annoying, very quickly. She got incessently annoying. She would accuse me of being judgemental, and I would think, "Yes I know I am..but at least I'm not hypocritical about it."

I won't get into everything that was so completely wrong about what she thought.

Because honestly, I could write novels, thats how wrong she was.

Okay so I was putting up with her.

because I've said it before, I really am a very nice and understanding person. She often complained about troubled times at home, so of course I felt sorry for her.

But every person has a breaking point.

And I swear I hung on for as long as I could.

But because I was such a nice person, and I literally tried to force myself to like her..

I swear to God, it drove me insane.

Drove me off the edge, and around the bend. I was obsessed with the thought of her and the more I tried to ignore it, the more I became overwhelmed by the little things. Everything about her drove me mad, right down to the way she laughed, or moved her eyebrows..for God's sake, the way she WALKED made me want to rip my teeth out.

It wasn't long until I was thinking of creative ways to kill her..at first jokingly. Weird, outlandish conspiricy theories were born in small talks with my other friends who seemed to hate her also.

The hate consumed me, became the only thing I could ever think about. I never went out, in fright that I might see her. I wanted her to be driven mad by me just like she did, I wanted to watch her writh in pain while I sat by and just watched. She destroyed my caring nature, and she was the only erson ever on my mind.

The plans and theories sooned turned to a more serious note, more focused on getting her out of my life than just creative garrish tales that focused on the graphic shock than the actual killing. They stayed in my head, going unshared with my friends, who didn't seem to have the same problem with Mandy as I did.

Further more, I came to realize how possible the ideas in my head were, how easily they could be carried out...

At first, I wanted her in pain..but as time went on, I just realized it would be safer to just get her gone, done with.

This, I hoped, would rid me of the horrible hate that had enveloped me.

It all came down to a chilly autumn night. It was after a football game and she would be walking home.

Luckily for me, she lived in one of the more shady parts of town, and it wouldn't be the first time someone had been murdered. I was hiding behind a bush that was on the corner of her street. A shining silver knife was in my shaking hands and my eye twitched uncontrollably. She was walking slowly, in the swaggering way that made my insides twist in knots. I watched her every step, watched which cracks in the pavement her shoes went over and the ant hills she scuffed about. I saw her face come into the moonlight, and her pale face was what did it. Every feeling of hate came over me, and I swear the Devil himself would have been afraid of me at that very moment. My body was trying to take over my mind and only a small part of my brain fought against my instinct to launch forward and slaughter her on the spot. It was a fight for control of myself, impulse and sense were head to head, disagreeing with eachother in the most unpleasant manner. All of it resulted in me jerking forward and then back as my mind finally won by telling myself that it wasn't time yet.

The movement made a slight noise and she turned towards the bush suddenly and looked around. She stared at the bush long and hard and I held my breath in fear. For an entire minute, maybe two, I didn't breath, and she didn't move.

Finally she turned back around and continued walking, albeit faster than before, the confident swagger gone, replaced by edgy nervousness. I decided that before she got too far..I had to do it.

I didn't jump out like my body and primal instinct told me to. I slowly stepped out called out to her.

"Mandy." I said just loud enough for her to hear me.

She jerked around with a frightened look on her face. The face faded as her realization that she was with someone she knew took over her.

I walked towards her slowly, the knife behind my back. I was completely calm and centered. I wouldn't let myself act rashly and ruin this.

I kept my face blank and she said, "Hey." in a casual way. I said nothing, just continued walking towards her. That was when she started sliding back to her skittish way.

"Umm, what's up?" she said, unsure of what to do. I put my hand on my shoulder and pulled the knife out...

I aimed higher than I would have if it were a quick killing, making it seem like the killer had been taller than me, and pointed it upward. I hadn't slit her throat because that would indicate that it was done from behind, although it would have been easier.

She slid to the ground and I quickly ripped at her shirt in a hurried fashion, and undid her jeans.

Rapists were common, and if I made it look like a male, the police would be on a wild goose chase.

After she had stopped breathing and I was sure that she was dead, I stood up. I had been very careful to avoid blood and only the knuckle of my left thumb was bloodied in anyway. I left the body and walked slowly home.

I washed the knife, which was a normal kitchen knife. placed it back in the wooden knife block and went to bed.

Two mornings later was when I heard of it, at school. I hadn't gone near the crime scene. I hadn't told anyone and my mind was finally calm and settled.

People were crying and to my shock, I cried.

But it was out of releif that it was finally over. My torture was over and I could move on with my life..

That night, on the news, they told of a young woman brutally murdered in an attempted rape case.

They were looking for a man somewhere around 6 foot.
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