Murder Weapons

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by _mirai

by _mirai

What makes a murder weapon?

Not a random thought, I promise. The question was brought on by a Criminal Justice class. We looked a murder weapons. And let me tell you - there are a lot of murder weapons out there. Tom - my boyfriend, we’ve been together five years - he’s dead. He’s dead and I can’t bring him back. I can, however, contemplate the meaninglessness of life and wonder what makes murderers tick.

What makes a murder weapon?

There’s the famous gun. A classic, that one. Bang bang and they’re dead. Poison - I don’t know how effective that would be in today’s age, but dead is dead I suppose. A noose. Water. A cloth. Every human is a walking homicide.

What makes a murder weapon?

I sigh. The issue with lots of murder weapons, you see, is that DNA is left on all of them. Sure, you can dispose of the weapon, but once you find the victim’s DNA? You’re fucked. Bang bang, off to the slammer you go. A gun? A knife? Rat poison? Tough luck, buddy, that proves intent to kill right there.

What makes a murder weapon?

Some say the best murder weapon is one that leaves no trace. A stiletto of ice. Suffocation.

The thought bounces around my head. My finger taps against the table sporadically.

What makes a murder weapon?

I see Tom, his beautiful blue eyes wide in terror. I see Emily in the back seat, clutching on to the seatbelt, eyes wide open as she begs to a non-existent God.

What makes a murder weapon?

Well, fuck you, Tom, and fuck you, Emily. I know you’ve both been fucking behind my back. I know it’s been happening for over six months now. So much for best friends forever, eh, Emily? Weep in your watery grave, bitch.

What makes a murder weapon?

Ah, but my mistake. It wasn’t murder. It was reckless endangerment - and a penalty of two years in prison versus life.

What makes a murder weapon?

I smile at the camera in the corner of my cell. For me, it was two bottles of beer and five shots of vodka.

Oh, and a set of car keys.