I am drying my body. I'm from showering and I desperately need to rest because it's been a long day. I did the dishes, did laundry, cleaned the house and breathed. I'm still breathing and it's getting on my nerves,God!
Okay,I don't really mean to offend you but I just hate everyday that I live trying to make things right. It sucks trying to be something you're not and I won't start now.
I put on my sweat pants and a hoodie. I'm ready to do absolutely nothing. I grab my sketch book and walk out the door, downstairs and here I am sitting on the sofa.
I open my sketch book to revisit old traumatic yet pleasurable moments of my life.
Jennifer Connelly the first woman I ever created. The first sketch and the first murder case I'd ever committed outside of my childhood home.
Jennifer loved me and I loved her but she didn't really mean it. She didn't wanna stick to one man only. She betrayed me and so jealously, jealously bit me real hard on the neck and made me lose my mind. Jealously and of course Love for her only made me put her back to rest. Back to where God and I only know she rests. The ground.
Her body's still missing according to press and family memebers. But In times such as these, "always kill clean and don't leave any blood stains behind. Blood tells a million of stories only dark and devious minded people like us know about. Blood is sacred. It's the definite completion of man."
Suddenly,a knock! I hope it's not who I think it is. I am tired of Baba always paying me visits.
I get up from the sofa and close my sketch book. Just in case and walk up to the door to open.
It's a woman.
She's beautiful but she's not Ciara.
It's My Marilyn.
YOU ARE READING
"My MaRiLyn..."
General FictionTimothy Zolanski, a mentally distorted young man moves into a new neighbourhood hoping to start a new life. He then becomes obsessed with a beautiful lady in the neighborhood called "Marilyn". Whom he believes he "thought" into existence through his...
