The wanted murderer L.S.

Boring People.

Police sirens were blaring to begin with.
Louis watched the red and blue lights from his bedroom balcony. He saw them move from Baker's street, to Saint George's lane, then around the corner and back again. It was a re-occuring event that happened each night, long after everyone had gone to bed. Louis, however, had always struggled to sleep. At first, he'd been awake by chance when he'd heard the police sirens roar around his house; the night after, he'd woken up and heard them. The night after that, he'd listened out and there they had been; and this night, he was sat on his balcony, waiting.

He knew who they were after; everyone did. Every person in London has seen the news on the television or in the papers. The police were looking for London's most wanted murderer, and Louis couldn't believe how many times he'd heard them chase this so-called killer, and let him get away.

There were no names to the people this man had killed, nor faces or family or anything. It was a case that everyone knew, yet no one understood. And Louis, who claimed to never understand anything anyway, had found a deep interest in the subject.

"You're up late." Louis' brother said, slapping him on the shoulder with such force that Louis almost toppled over the edge of the balcony into his mother's award-winning rosemary bushes.

His name was Liam and he looked nothing like
Louis. They had the same mother, but not the same father, and while Louis was a scrawny-looking eighteen year old, Liam was six foot one and built like a tank. Louis' clothes preference was shirts with trains on, and Liam wore heavy boots and biker jackets. Louis had one earring piercing that he'd made by accident, while Liam had seven. On top of that, he had tattoos up each arm, both legs, neck and torso. They truly had very little in common, which often lead to bickering where Louis would be favoured by both parents.

"When are they going to catch the murderer?"
Louis asked, pointing at the blue and red lights in the distance.

Liam squinted at them. He needed glasses but denied it. "Dunno. Probably never."

"Aren't you scared?" Louis asked, tapping his hand rhythmically on the balcony railing.

Liam rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and yawned. "He won't kill us, if that's what you're implying."
"How do you know?"
"He dislikes boring people."
"I'm not boring."
"Oh? Then he might kill you."

Louis opened his mouth to reply, closed it when he realised that he'd dug himself into hole, and then said, "Why are you here? It's three in the morning."

As if he'd forgotten his own purpose, Liam tugged at his beard for a moment before smiling. "Jail! I'm going to bail someone out. I need you to cover for me. If anyone asks where I am, say that I'm studying for university exams or something."

"You don't go to university."
"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't! You're never there! You're always with your friends, doing drugs and other gross stuff. You've been enrolled for two years, and I bet you've never even stepped foot into that place."

"So? I'm enrolled. My name's on the register, that's what's important."

Louis frowned and sat on his deck chair, crossing his arms angrily. "You're so lucky to be at university and you throw it all away. I hate you for that."

"You'll be at university, too, next year."

Louis turned around, "I'm supposed to be there this year! I'm fed up of school, I hate staying back a year. Adults don't go to school. Why do I have to stay there?"

Liam sighed and leant on the railing. "I know school's tough. It's not made for people like you..
But you'll do good at university! This last year gives you time to think about what you really want in life.
You might find a new interest that you want to pursue. Criminology, for example."