case 143 | lee felix

prologue

3rd Person's POV

"That will be 180 bucks," the boy says, wiping off the grease on his pants and sticking out his palms in expectation of crisp notes as he finishes filling up the tank. He wore tattered joggers and a soiled gas station tee. Most of the letters had scraped away through the passage of time and the trademark blue had faded to an unrecognizable shade due to all the filth absorbed by it. Strands of sweaty blonde hair fell to his hooded eyes from below his worn out cap, highlighting his sharp features. Some may even dare to call him handsome if not for his unkempt dirty hair and mismatched sense of dressing.

"180 bucks? Are you crazy? This is fraud! For that price I should be having a full tank by now," the driver agitatedly groans. The boy sets his hands over the rolled down window.

"Well, it's not so don't be cheap and pay up." The man stares in bafflement before angrily stepping out the vehicle, slamming the door of the metallic white sedan behind him.

"What the hell did you just say?"

"Do I look like I decide the fucking gas prices in here?" The boy grabs the man's collar by his gloved hands, shoving him against the body of the car. "I don't get paid enough for this," he mutters under his breath.

"Who the hell is the manager here? You should be fired!"

"Uh-oh. Looks like it's just me and you here tonight," he says, a sadistic smile creeping up his face and a mischievous glint lighting up in his brown eyes. He gazes upwards at the clear sky, an endless void of darkness looming above them. The clock in the convenience store silently strikes 12. The boy was oddly comforted by this desolate environment.

The sinister grin sparks a negligible fear in the man. He was quite big, almost twice his size. No arrogant youngster he couldn't handle, he thought. He was going to teach him a lesson. He raises his hand, ready to strike a blow to the perfectly structured yet filthy face.

Almost immediately, the man finds himself tripping and landing on a smooth surface. His face repeatedly collides with the polished metal as the boy manically bangs his head on the hood of the car with a crazed smirk.

"You-you're a psycho! All this over some money I was going to pay anyways!" He cries out, the jarring effect of all the thudding creating an inexplicably painful sensation in him.

"Oh, I know."

"I-I'm reporting this to the police!" He says, and the banging stops. He slowly looks up at the boy taking a sharp object out of his pocket.

"Who said anything about making it out of here alive? No one's going to see us, darling."

A wet splatter of crimson stains the white sedan as cries of agony echo from the lone gas station till it is heard no more.