Precinct

7:00PM

     3:23 AM, why am I not asleep? It's been months. I finally did it. I took care of Frank. It was four months ago. We worked a late shift. There was so much work to take care of and the only ones who happened to be in the building were myself, Frank, Bridget and the custodian, Thomas. That's all. Instead of getting out at our normal time, we all departed around seven. Not too late but since it was winter it was already pitch black out before five. The dark makes everything worse for me. I'm much more triggered by night. That's when I work. Not this silly excuse for a job. My dirty work. My job is sales & marketing for a corporation who does nothing but make you broke in the long run. I sell you products and calculate all the money we've gained. It's boring. I dread it. Although I did go to school for this, it's what I wanted. I wanted a job that I could fall back on just in case all else failed. Life's a business. I know how to manage mine and I help people who can't manage their own by themselves. One way or another.
      I had planned Frank's "disappearance" for awhile. What I did was heinous. I had all my tools prepared. I even had a fake alibi. My friend from college, Matthew. I told him to order a pizza and if anybody questioned him about me, our plan was I went over to his house for pizza and stayed until 11 and I'd call him at 11:30 PM saying I got home and we'd need to make plans again soon.That means the night I wanted to go along with my plan, all I had to do was call Matt between five or seven saying I was out of work and to get the pizza. I wasn't just going to punish Frank. He was going to learn that he was wrong. You see, I'm able to tell when somebody does something wrong. Whether it's morally wrong, wrong by law. Just wrong. Frank had a family. Father, husband, brother, son. He was cherished by his family. But they didn't deserve him. He wasn't good for them. I may be sick but I genuinely want to help the Wilson family. I'm a great listener believe it or not. I put up a huge front. Inside I'm insane. I can physically feel when people are lying. Nobody knows that about me, it's deceptive.

        It was about 6:30 PM when I realized the night of January 7th 2014 would be the night. Mr. Frank Wilson was consuming another dose of his daily caffeine. His wife knew he wasn't gonna be home until late, he packed a dinner. He casually stuffed his face like the glutton he is. Lasagna. Nobody else had food with them. I only eat dinner past 8:00 PM and Bridget mentioned how as soon as she got to her small city apartment, take off her heels and eat cereal while watching "Gossip Girl" with her fiance Alexander. She's a lovely woman. Her diligence is always acknowledged. The way Frank moved, his gestures, his actions. He chewed with his mouth open. The slight lisp he had made me lose it. I couldn't deal with it any longer. We weren't on the phone at all that night, our lines close at five when the rest of us leave. This job is your basic nine to five. Everybody comes in and leaves at the same time, everyday, Monday through Friday. Frank still talked. He tried to make small talk. Why? Who knows. We had files to fill out and fax, nobody had time to talk. How could he do his job like this. Why, how is he still here, I asked myself until that last hour. The clock chimes 7:00, luckily for me, Bridget left right on time. My work was done but I wanted to wait for Frank. I headed to my car in the garage, in my trunk I had placed gloves and a change of clothes in a duffelbag. I put on the gloves, hopped in the car and drove down from the 5th floor of the garage to the 3rd where Frank was parked. I waited and waited for him to get close enough to his car, but far enough away where he couldn't get in and drive away. He had a stack of papers which I assumed was extra work he planned to finish at home. I exited my vehicle as quiet as possible. He was reaching for his keys in his pocket to unlock the trunk. I allowed him to place the papers in and I ran up and bashed his head into the car. Blood gushed out of his head and he collapsed onto the ground. I closed his trunk, and carried his body to mine. A look of anguish crossed his face. Even though he was emotionless, I saw the pain in his skin. I could tell he was hurting.

        By the time I got to my house, pulled Frank through the storm shelter that was under my shed it had to be around 9:00. I never checked the time. I strapped him to the table and he finally came through after another fifteen minutes or so. There was fear in his eyes. He has an inkling that there was something wrong.