I’m very good at killing people.
Well, to be more accurate, I’m very good at disposing of bodies and evidence. No one has ever found someone I killed, and no one ever will.
I don’t like killing now though. I’ve been trying to escape.
I thought maybe I could back to college. I remember my first day back in school. I wanted to try dorm living again. I walked into my dorm room, and my roomate was there was ladies older than him.
I usually am more cordial, but I was a bit off. I ended up putting all my stuff away in the dorm an stuff organized. Then I started opening up and introduced myself. They were very honest themselves about what’s up. It was crazy.
This kid apparently is the heir to George Carlin’s fortune. Not billions, but definitely some nice cash George racked up as a famous comedian and actor I guess. And these ladies are this guys body guards. Intriguing. The women didn’t look like much, but apparently they could handle themselves given they have this job. Very intriguing. Combat used to be a lot of fun for me.
The cool part of this situation was that after this semester this kid was going to quit school. He was only there to satisfy some requirement of getting the inheritance. So after that he quits and that would mean I could get the dorm room all to myself sweet!
I needed to get a job.
I wanted to see if I could do some farm work. Never really tried, but seemed like honest hard labor. I didn’t even know how to go about getting this, but I thought I could just try knocking on some farm houses. Turned out out that first door I knocked on needed some help and were willing to give me a shot.
Things were going very well with my new plans. I loved my new employer. She even let me have access to a room at the farm so I didn’t have to go back to the dorms and share it with Carlan Jr.
One night though it cam crashing down. I was staying at my farm room. When I cam up to the room though I saw someone knew something about who I was and tracked me here. They left me a little gift. Carlan Jr.’s two body cards were dead, throats slit, fully clothed, laying on my bed. A note was on top providing some very detailed instructions for how the bodies should be prepared and disappeared. As well as a tray of food. The note said the food contained dozens of clues as to who my admirer is, and if I didn’t play along with this strange game, things were going to turn out badly for me.
I did what I had to do, but I’m not good at games like this. I have no friggin idea what these clues were telling me. I tried to keep doing what I was doing. Where am I going to run again, I thought I was pretty blended in and hidden now. I might as well see how this was going to play out.
The next week while I was in class, little did I know that a woman I didn’t recognize was torturing a man in a beautifully designed room. An attic. An attic that looked like it could be above a farm house. I also didn’t know until later that evening when I returned to my farm house, that this lady and her colleague were setting fire to a bunch of bails of hay. A fire whose embers fell on my farm house and burned it right down.