Nice Spot

          He remembers other victims while watching the family move about through the windows of the home. He had killed many and craved more bloodshed. Some were old, some young. The youngest he killed was ten. He didn't like doing it, he didn't want to be a child murderer. She had simply gotten in the way, an accident. He had never felt so bad, killers are not suppose to have a conscience; or so they say. She was blonde and very skinny. He remembered that, and the little teddy bear she was holding when she ran in front of her mother as he swung the knife. She should be alive still, someone to tell the story of The Night Marauder.

They said her name was Amelia on the news. He thought about her from time to time and how she would be alive had she not have come when she did.

He watched the family intently, waiting for the right moment. He knew that they would be home at this time, getting ready for bed now. He had thought that he would have to break into the home through the front door. The young girl had raised her bedroom window, a smile grew on his face as he nodded in his black hoodie.

Now he wouldn't have to worry about the noise of the glass, or disarming the alarm. This was going to be so easy, he smiled even bigger now.

He crept to the open window slowly and climbed in. the young girl was around nine or ten. The same age as the girl he had killed. She was holding a bear in her arms, cradling it like a child. She rocked it while she listened to her jewelry box play as the ballerina inside danced. She had her back turned to him, her hair was blonde. He watched her for a moment, not making a sound. Her hair had been brown before, and short. There was the mother and father, and the young girl. Only three, so who could this be?

The girl slowly turned around and he could see that she looked exactly like the girl that he had killed some time ago. She had long blonde hair, skinny, and very pale with a sweet face. He stepped back slowly and could feel something under his foot, it squeaked as he put pressure down. It was some kind of toy; he didn't care what it was. It had gotten the young girl's attention.

"It is you. You killed me, why, why did you do that?" The little girl said with sadness. Her eyes started to tear and she ran out the blue open door of her bedroom.

He felt woozy and stood there motionless in his thoughts. What was going on? Was his mind playing tricks on him? That couldn't be the same girl, not the one he killed. She was dead right? He put his hands on his head; trying to grasp the situation. He looked around and noticed that the room was not pink anymore. A unicorn border now lined the wall to meet the ceiling and the room was now blue. It looked just like the room that belonged to Amelia. He felt like he was falling apart.

"This can't be real, it has to be a dream." He said aloud. He moved slowly toward the door to leave the room and enter the rest of the house. He walked down the hall and found the mother at the sink in the kitchen.

She heard his footsteps coming down the hall and turned to him as he entered the kitchen.

"You are not real! You can't be, I killed you!" He yelled at the woman, seeing her face.

"You are a murderer and you need to leave this place!" She said moving toward him with a butcher knife.

"You think you are going to kill me? He laughed hardily at the thought and moved toward her with malice in his eyes. "I killed you once and I can do it again." He said with vengeance in his voice.

He pulled the knife from the holster on his side. It was the knife he had used time and time again for his own indulgence. She came at him and he thrust the knife into her gut as he came closer, her knife ready to sink into him.