Programmed to Kill

Chapter 3

I ran down the hall, and hid around the corner near a snack machine and a drink machine, catching my breath. My heart was beating a million miles per second, and I was having trouble standing up. I had just killed someone. With my very own hands. I stared down at them and shook with disgust at Mariah’s blood on my hands. “Oh God…” I sobbed quietly to myself.

I fled right after I had stabbed her the second time, because I heard her kids running towards us. I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me, because I did not want to get caught. As I slid between the snack and drink machines, I could hear her kid’s voices, shrieking “Mommy! Mommy!” I felt disgusted with myself. If I had a choice, I would have not killed her. But that thing in the back on my neck was evil. It made me do that.

I sat there between the machines for a few minutes, grasping the bloody knife, adrenaline pumping through my veins. It was all too scary. I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t know what the hell was in my neck. I didn’t know why it was there and why it had to be me. I didn’t want to kill. I knew it was wrong. I shivered, but not from the chill in the air.

I heard sirens from way down below, and felt icy cold fear pulse through my veins. I jumped up and ran to the stars. No one would take the stairs. No one would see me. Except for the cameras. Damn.

 I looked up and saw one pointing directly at me. I swore under my breath and threw my knife at it. The tip directly hit the lens, and the glass shattered. I picked the knife up and repeatedly destroyed any other cameras I saw. But I was careful not to get in the line of vision of the cameras. If I was caught, I was even deader than Mariah. But a part of me worried that they had still caught me on tape somewhere else in the building. I began to panic as I flew down the stars. I was beginning to loose my breath.

I had ten stories left to go, and then I heard footsteps and loud voices yelling “We have the area surrounded…” I let out a whimper, unsure of what to do.

I continued going down the stairs, until I saw an emergency exit, leading out a back way. No doubt they had that surrounded too. I looked down at the knife in my right hand and then, with relief saw that there was a bathroom, just one flight of stairs down. When I reached it, I ran to a sink, scrubbing the blood of my hands and the knife. It was starting to stain the sink. And my hands were left a little red. I shoved the knife back in its spot around my waist and ran out side. And then I had a sudden idea come to me. It wouldn’t give me much time. But it would give me just enough.

“Help! Help me! Somebody please help me!” I screamed and ran out to the lobby, where police officers were crowded around, guns pointing at the elevator and right at me.

Some of the officers put down their guns and rushed up to me. They dragged me over to a chair where some detectives were. “Miss, what happened? Are you okay?” Said the female, her large, brown eyes questioning. “I’m detective Melissa Steele, honey. This is my partner Anderson Rin. You need to tell us why you need help.”

“It’s about Mariah! I was at the snack machine, and I heard something from her room. And her kids – they were screaming! So I went and I checked to see what was happening and there was Mariah, on the ground! Covered in her blood! I think she was dead!” I lied through my teeth. I knew she was dead.

“Okay.” Said the detective. Her partner, who was a skinny, balding man, stepped up to ask me even more questions. But before he could say anything, I interrupted him.

“Can I please get some fresh air? Being in here is making me sick. I don’t feel safe here. What if the person who killed Mariah is still here?” Tears actually spilled from my eyes. In truth, I was crying because I was the killer.

“Yes.” She quickly grabbed my arm and gently pulled me outside. She sat me down next to some police cars and continued to ask me questions. I ignored her though, and was deciding where exactly I should punch her first.

She looked down at her notepad and scribbled down some notes. She looked up at me once again, but then her eyes caught on something. “Is that… blood on the hem of your shirt?” I slowly looked down and saw a blood smear about the size of a quarter. “Yes.” I said, and sent my fist flying into the side of her head. She dropped to the pavement, unconscious. I ran, as fast as I could back onto the street, trying to not draw attention to myself. I knew I needed to get back to the sewer.

My plan had worked perfectly. I knew that if I acted like a scared, helpless teenager, then the officers wouldn’t be quick to judge me. If I gave them a little bit of information about how I had seen Mariah’s body, then people would want to ask questions right away, assuming that I had just been a witness. And once they would start to ask questions, I needed to find an excuse to get outside. Once I was outside, then I could run away. I executed the plan and it worked just fine.

But I still only had a few minutes before Anderson walked outside and saw his partner knocked out by the police cars. Then everyone would know that I had killed Mariah. Melissa had seen that smear of blood on my shirt…I kept running, and barely anyone noticed me. They probably thought I was just some teenage girl trying to get home before curfew or before her parents noticed she was gone.

They didn’t even suspect that I was trying to run away from the murder I had just committed.