Airports, stores, bus stations and
movie theatres have it. It is the little room with the least helpful,
unfriendliest of employees; where missing, precious objects go to die, to be
eventually resurrected by the staff upon need or desirability.
It was snowing
outside, and Grant had no gloves. Blood was no longer flowing to the tips of
his fingers; and is toes were about to fall off. He walked into a theatre to
put himself together before going out again and continue his journey. He went
to the customer service desk and asked for the black gloves he lost. A young member of the staff
presented him with a cardboard box containing several pieces of clothing, from
within which he rescued a pair of black gloves that seemed fitting.
Strolling to the
theatre next door, he bought a ticket for "Prognosis Negative: a story of
betrayal and redemption”. With so many holiday movies screening that night, he
was bound to watch it almost by himself. Immersed in these thoughts he was when
a heavily pierced young girl with a medium-sized bucket of popcorn walked in
and sat almost in front of him.
The movie started
after four trailers of equally dark films. The girl kept chewing her popcorn
loudly. Grant grew more irritated by the minute. He wanted to enjoy at least
part of the show before making his move, but his patience wore thin too
rapidly.
He removed the
gloves and choked the girl from behind. She was so focused on the screen, that he
was able to get a very good grip on her neck. When done right, choking can
produce death in a matter of seconds. Doing it from behind permits the killer
to cross the index fingers over the windpipe, helping suppress guttural sound
immediately. Done at the precise time she exhaled helped prevent her from fighting
it off much, and added to the silent nature of the killing.
Once sure she was
no longer breathing, he pulled a post-it from his pocket, glued it to her
forehead, and wrote the following on it:
"If found, do
not return"
He got up, pulled
up his hoodie and left to the bathroom; where he locked on his reflection in
the mirror and frowned. A mixture of joy and satisfaction rushed through his
veins.
Grant reflected on
his life as he walked home that night. He had never been molested as a kid. He
held no particular hatred towards women, or any specific group of people for
that matter. His parents were still alive, and remained together. There was
just nothing else he was interested in anymore. He was empty inside. Only
taking a random stranger´s life excited him.
Immersed in those thoughts he was
when he realized he was just a block from home, his favorite falafel joint just
steps ahead. He came in and ordered the special – no onions please.
There was a brief mention of the
incident in the next day´s evening news.
A phone number was provided for anyone with information to call
anonymously. The story rapidly drowned in the ocean of holiday discussions
about best places to shop, the “war on Christmas” and celebrity breakups; lost
to never be found again.
