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.
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