Killer (Short story)

Part 1

AN: Hello, my lovelies. I know that maybe you have been asking for me. But a lot has happened lately. Happy Christmas and Happy New Year! I hope you're having a great time in this winter break. :) Ok, moving on to the story. This is like a reader x story kind of type, but I'm not sure. The detective and the boy are fundamental in the story so what I sort of highlighted is for you guys to not get lost and for like action I'll make it like this: -bold-. I'll edit the story if you tell me what you want me to change, of course I'll decide what its good for te story or not. So yeah, leave in the comment anything you want. Thank you and enjoy. :)

Its 4:55 pm. Reporting as Detective Allen. Today is Monday, January 4th of 2016. We are in the interrogation room number 5 with the murderer. Murderer, a 15 years old male with black hair, odd color of what seems to be white in his eyes -waves hands in front of the boy. The boy pushes a hand away shooting daggers through his eyes- he's not blind. Hmm... he's body well built, he's like 5 feet and 10 inches tall. Name unknown, files can't be found. Murderer suppose to be a ghost in flesh and bone. -The boys huffs and then puts a smirk on his face- End of physical description, shall we begin?

We shall. -Smiles-

Ok then... Talk.

Ok. I was coming back from the drug store, instantly I realized that there wasn't anybody home. Blood red were painted on the wall, like if it were art, a corrupted artist. Me. -Smile is bigger-

I'm certainly not amused with this happening, I knew someday I would break and loose control.

Two bodies.

Two people.

Both, of my parents.

They were looking at me with dead and glassy eyes.

Why did you kill them?

That's and easy question I killed them because its in my blood, the people that you took photos of weren't my real parent. They adopted me, so I'm going to find my biological parents and kill them too, they didn't want me so why should they be alive. My suppose to be mother told me when I was little that my real parents were going to abort, they were going to kill me first. So -raises both eyebrows- do you see my point?

Oh. Ok. Tell me about your mother.

She's not my mother! -Detective gets startled and the boy calms down- Sorry that was rude. I'll tell you my point of view from the murder. 

My mother was sitting on a chair, naked, with dull knifes all over her body so it would be more painful for her.

First, on her feet.

Second, on her palms.

Third, her thighs.

Fourth, her stomach.

And last but not least, her fake big boob chest.

I'm guessing she died out of blood loss, you know because of the messy blood pool you guys founded. I obviously had to clean it up, it was just to much blood I had to clean up like two thirds of the blood. She taught me how to take care of myself, the last thing she taught was to clean up my messes. I went for the mop and the bucket of water and cleaned up some blood, afterwards the water turned a light shade of red. My fake mother was nice, even a little too nice. -The boy kind of daydreamed a little and got back to the subject- Oh! I forgot to mention, all of this happened in the kitchen.

And what about your father? 

Well I found him in his bed asleep, so I went as quietly as possible to where his gun is. I grabbed his gun and some ammo then I woke him up. He looked at me with the typical father look. Why?