Myla Roams Around

V

THE MALEFACTOR'S STATEMENT

I lived nearby Stuart's residence six years ago. I was all alone that time; no neighbor to talk, no friends to console me—except Myla. She's sweet and adorable; and sometimes she'd steal fruits from their kitchen table to give it to me. I don't deny that I had sexual desired for her which led me to the crime.

May 13, 1973: I heard from her that her parents would come late at night—sometimes the next morning—and her honesty captivated my voluptuous desires. That night, I waited for her parents to come home up on a tree and unexpectedly, I fell asleep. May 14 1973: I woke up at 5 AM but I saw no cars yet, and that's when the evil got ahead of me.

I clicked the doorbell on the door, but there was no answer. I got annoyed and clicked and clicked and clicked it—until it didn't make any more sound. Just then, Myla opened the door, and I was so irritated that I shoved her inside and took the grass cutter by the door. I held her tightly and slit both cheeks open for not being obedient. She was screaming loudly so I covered her mouth; but the noise still got out of her cheeks. I got angrier, so I stabbed her left eye thrice until I had her bluish eyeball crushed under the blade. She was so unrecognizable so I can't help but laugh at her appearance. She cried both blood and tears, begging me to spare her life. The grass cutter on my hand took the lead and amputated her left hand's fingers. I took her middle finger and dipped it on her left eye; like fries and ketchup; digging through it deeper until her harsh shriek of pain consumed the house's deafening silence. I made her eat it. She can't with cheeks open, so I held her head and jaw so that she can bite thoroughly. I guess she liked it so much; she ended up finishing all five!

However, I can't leave her like that, and Mr. and Mrs. Stuart might barge in any minute; so I brainstormed on how to conceal it. She kept crying aloud like an exasperating pig. It was so frustrating that I can't help but stab the grass cutter into her mouth. I split the blades but the upper one won't go through the skull; so I just pushed the lower blade down to her throat—until her mouth and gullet makes a combination of a key shaped masterpiece. There was not a sound of her voice after that, but sopping blood on the floor.

I immediately went up to the bed room and drilled the ceiling a meter before the bed. I hid the body in there and reattached the cover. There is some leftover paint in the basement, and I used it to camouflage the penetrated areas. I cleaned until 10 AM, went home afterwards, and burnt my clothes and shoes drenched in her blood. I fled the town and headed to New York.

Four years later, I got into a car accident and lost some of my memories, perhaps, including my manslaughter.

I am guilty for the murder of Myla Stuart. I surrender.

THOMAS BROWN