Little Angel

Ethan Triche

I looked up. The bitch in the suit sat down, and next to her was her muscly boy toy. What a whore.
“Ethan?” The bitch said.
“Yeah?”
“Your mother tells us that you saw something last night.”
I nodded.
“Can you tell us what you saw?”
The most glorious thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on. “A murder,” I said.
“The man in the woods? Can you tell us about the scene?”
What the fuck do you think bitch? Of course it was in the woods. Of course it was a man. “Yeah. In the woods. The man was bent over a log. He had no hands. They were on the ground. Severed from his body.”
She nodded her head and looked like a stupid-ass bobble head.
“And the killer. You saw them?”
I nodded. I tried to mimic her stupid ass nod. All understanding-like. She don’t know shit. I’m the one that knows shit. I know all the shit.
“Did you see their face?”
“No. It was dark.”
“Did you see anything that could help us?”
Even if I did, I wouldn’t help some whore and her boy toy. I wouldn’t betray my fucking hero. The coolest person on the planet. “That’s really all I saw ma’am. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.” God I sound like a doofus.
“What time was it that you saw the murder?”
“Umm. 10PM maybe.”
“What were you doing out so late? And so far away from home.”
Oh shit. You interrogating me now? Okay whore, you just jumped up to the top of on my list. “I was playing.”
“What do you do when you play?”
She was fucking interrogating me. Is she that bad at her job? Is she really trying to pin this on me? On a fucking kid. “Fishing.” Fishing is normal right? Acceptable killing. Acceptable torture.
“You were fishing last night?”
“No.” Fuck.
“What were you doing?”
I looked at my mom. She scooted closer to me and held my hand in hers. “It’s okay angel. Tell the agents what you were doing.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?” The whore said.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
My mom squeezed my hand gently. It’s okay. It’s okay to tell. I looked the bitch in the suit in the eyes for a long time. Could she see through me, like I saw through her? Scared little fucking girl.  “I was fucking playing! Okay?” My mom’s hand squeezed mine, hard.
“There’s something you aren’t telling us.”
“Shit. Okay. I’m sick. I kill small animals. I torture them. I slice them up. I skin them. I do everything you can imagine to them. You happy? Now you know who I am.” I turned to my mom. “I’m sick. I’m no fucking angel. I’m sick. I’m sorry.” I don’t know where I learned it, but the more understanding I show others that I am of my own situation, the more likely it is for them to downplay the severity of my altered personality. Show remorse and all that shit.
“Are you sure it’s only small animals that you kill?” This bitch. Really?
“Absofuckinglutely,” I said. She pisses me off so much.
“Language,” my mom said.
I nodded.
“I didn’t kill anyone ma’am.”
“Okay. Thanks for telling us what you saw.” She stood and held her hand out to shake mine. I obliged. Anything to get her to fucking leave already.
She hugged my mother on her way out. I heard her whisper something, “You need to get him away from this life. This isn’t healthy.” She whispered some other shit, but I couldn’t make it out.
After they left, my mother turned around and walked to me, crying. That bitch made my mom cry. Or did I?