Psychoville *CURRENTLY UNDER CONSTRUCTION*

Chapter Two

Thank you Heather (flowersandnirvana ) for giving your wonderful input on the last two chapters (even though we were supposed to be working on our science work)!

I walked out of the forest and onto the road, covering my front with the the jacket that I had picked up from another, more unfortunate hitchhiker. I'm sure that the police would find his body in the morning, if they were really looking. I stuck out my right thumb and waited for a car to stop and let me in, my hand aching to feel the cool handle of the hunters knife that I had picked up from the last guy. I had left his drivers license on his stomach for easy identification, laying a single hand over it to prevent the wind from blowing it away. After all, I wasn't a monster. Besides, he deserved what he got. Everyone knows that hitchhiking is dangerous.

A dark blue Nissan pulled over and rolled down the passenger window.

"Do you need a ride?" The young man driving the car asked politely.

I smiled. "Yes, actually. Do you think you could drive me? That is, if you don't have anywhere else that you need to be."

He answered by waving the idea of denying her a ride away. "Oh no. My wife would kill me if she knew that I turned down a nice girl like you. Besides, it can wait." I thanked him and climbed into his car, sinking into the plush seats as my hand finally closed around the knife in my pocket.

"Where to?" The man asked.

"Oh, just follow this road and I will tell you when to pull over," I told him. But I had no intention of stopping anywhere near this road.

"You know, my son has never seen Finding Nemo?" He told me. "I'm actually on my way home with a gallon of ice cream so that we can watch it. Not that we need a huge tub of ice cream, but he is just so excited that I couldn't resist."

Aw, how sweet. I need to get out of this car soon or I might just stab him while he's driving. Or myself. But patience is the key.

About three miles and two off key sing-alongs later, I told him to pull over. Thank God. Go time.
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Checking the address, I made sure that I was at the correct house before I pulled a large white tub out of the trunk of my newly acquired car. I set the tub down on the front porch and pulled a small piece of paper out of my coat pocket, scribbling down a note in my neat calligraphy, the black pen contrasting with the white paper. I grabbed a small stone and used it to hold down the paper on the tub before I rung the doorbell and walked calmly back to the door. The last thing I saw was a young woman answering the door with a small child behind her. I would have left the tub on the porch for the to find later, but We wouldn't want the ice cream to melt now, would we?

"You can stop here," Mary told the man and he pulled over, puzzled.

"You don't want me to drive any further?" He asked. Instead of answering his question, she asked one of her own.

"How old is your son?"

"Four. Why?" Mary smiled.

"Great. That means he probably won't remember you." She turned to him. "And I wouldn't want to leave him with memories of a distant father. That would be terrible."

Mary swiftly brought the knife out of her coat pocket, only giving him a moment to react before she sliced open his throat. She stepped out of the car and to the other side, dragging him out of the car and into the middle of the road. Someone would find him there. She patted his pockets and found his driver's license, quickly writing the address down on a notepad she had found in the glove compartment. She set his license down beside him for easy identification and stepped back into the car, driving off. But not before leaving the police a note.

I smiled at all of my beautiful murders, my masterpieces. It had been a a few hours since I left the note and ice cream, so they must have called the police by now. The sun began to rise behind me as I drove down a nameless road, and I wondered if they had understood my note. It was simple, so I was sure that their tiny little brains could process it, but you never can be sure. Simple, but meaningful.

For Finding Nemo