Pseudosapien

Digging

"I hate you! I can't believe this! I cannot keep living here if you're going to be like this! Your hours are crazy and the time you do have off you spend sleeping or doing something else. You don't spend time with me anymore, Garth! I'm going and I'm never coming back!" A woman by the name of Clarissa sporting four inches of black Prada heels, a slightly too short black mini-skirt, and a tight white dress shirt declared as she fumbled with her clothes. she somehow managed to do that as she stomped around in those ridiculous heels. 

Ridiculous to him, of course. She adored everything in her vast wardrobe. He was silent as he watched her from his position leaning on the door frame of what was once their room. He figured it was just his again. It's not that he minded since she was leaving because he had cut her off. Almost all those fancy clothes, accessories, and shoes had either been gifted to her or, more recently, bought with his credit card by her. His eyes strayed down to the lovely curve of her backside while she was too busy tossing clothes into a second suitcase to notice. Garth glanced away trying to find something else to take his mind off the reason she had quite literally wriggled her way into his life in the first place. A walk alone had turned into a walk with someone seemingly interesting to talk to and where did he end up?

He looked back at Clarissa wondering what had gone wrong and reminded himself it had been a mistake from the beginning. It had taken a few tiring months, but he had grown weary of her consistently shrinking his bank account after shopping sprees with her flashy friends.

"Okay." He was done with her crap. Garth Knicks considered himself to be a patient gentleman when it came to conflict. What he didn't realize was Clarissa wasn't in the mood for him to be anything at all.

"Okay? Okay?! That's it?! Are you just going to let me leave you like this? Well, you want to know something, Garth? The first time I went shopping with my friends, I told them all about how I snuck my way into your wallet." She spat in his face like it was some huge reveal.

"You aren't the first. Women like you sneak in, get comfortable spending another's money until it's no longer enough to give you your fix, and then you leave when you don't get a 'raise'. You're a beautiful and brilliant woman, Rissa, but you're so insecure it poisons your personality. It's a shame, really." It was kind of sad, he thought, as she gaped at him.

If she wasn't so dramatic and high maintenance she could have been very clever and held it out for longer, but she was just too...Clarissa. After his last statement, he sauntered into the kitchen to make breakfast, plucking the newspaper from the counter on his way.

'Murdering Necrophiliac Found Dead'

Today twenty-four-year-old Chip Shilling, someone once thought to be a simple citizen, was found dead in his apartment from what medical examiners say to be several dozen stab wounds. They estimate he has been dead for two weeks and there were signs of a breaking and entering, which have led authorities to believe this to be a robbery gone wrong. After fingerprinting was done to confirm Shilling's identity, he was found to be responsible for the death and rape of at least five young women in the area. This is the sixth serial killer murder in ten months.'

Garth read on, but he always started with the latest on this particular serial killer. It was curious, really. He thought about how this person was killing both male and female serial killers of various ages in the area, and he wondered if this person would turn on them self after there were none left to kill except for the one they saw in the mirror every morning.

He didn't even flinch when he heard Clarissa clack obnoxiously through the hallway carrying her two cases of clothes filled to the point of near bulking. The last thing he heard her do was slam the door behind her. He turned his head at the sound, but once he noticed it was just Clarissa leaving, he turned back to the article. He walked over and locked the door. A habit of his. Trudging to the kitchen again, he brewed a cup of coffee and mulled over the case.