Chapter 22: Darkness, Here It Cometh

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The night is dark and full of terrors.

Most of the human beings awake at the dead of night are usually not the kindest of them all and at this few hours before twilight some bad things could happen with no apparent reason. It would also be totally unpredictable. Again, it’s just a matter of time as darkness rolled in and slumber fell through the Earth like a cascade of dust. Rest and rejuvenate for the others who are considered normal enough.

Yet how does one commit the perfect crime?

It’s simple, one just have to make sure it’s untraceable and forever unknown. The trick is that it's not going to be easy but it's not entirely impossible either. Details are the absolute key. One has to think like the law enforcers to break the law. It's the most subtle of notions, yet the most effective. Thus the night bring along the suitable shade of backdrop to commit those urging and vile desires welling up within certain hearts.

                The innocent teenage girl didn’t suspect anything. She just drank the chamomile tea without any second thoughts before she went to bed and of course her ignorance cost her, her life. It’s an act of hatred solely due to the fact that she is a girl who fancies other girls and the true culprit shall not be known without proper investigation. There lies a simple logic behind this hatred: crime for the rest may not be considered a crime for certain some. At least she slept well, to her own end and the following morning the parents were mortified of her unexpected demise and excluded eternally from amongst the living. She’s still too young to be leaving them in such a peaceful manner and the mother kept on crying that the girl had lots more to achieve for her future. Tears are not meant for the strong, but even the strongest would shed some tears in the most critical of situations.

The sudden, unexpected loss of a loved one. Who would do such a crime? Well, it might not settle down and stop on her death alone. There might be more to come. Time is ticking like an insidious hidden force and one has to be cautious of malicious intentions bred from hatred. The two very well complementary emotions are mixed up like a magma waiting to be exploded out of the volcanic top, spurted at specific targets. Those who couldn’t stand the heat will melt from the nasty concoction of emotions. To say the least, it is a crime of pure hatred. Well targeted and of course, well planned up to the very minute details in order to mask the horrid truth with a less horrifying version such as in the case of the sleeping girl. The superbly efficient culprit will strike again soon, of that it’s sure. But nobody have a single clue about that, not even the police force. It couldn’t be just a mere suicide attempt, especially not for the vibrant girl who would be the last to ever spoke of such morbid, self-destructive intentions. More questions will arise but her own demise was in fact, not her own choice to begin with. The dead may no longer be the prime witness of the scene. She could only give out clues for the living to figure out, if there's any.

The following morning the police had to take safety precautions by securing the parameters with their typical black and yellow CRIME SCENE tapes around the house as the neighbours, both nosy and concerned were starting to flock outside the front yard wondering about the worst. The prime suspect would be the mother, who served the girl tea since she complained of sore throat and the girl is a beloved member of the school choir team. The parents were careful enough not to let the words out about their daughter’s sexual preferences. They respected and loved her more for her willingness to share out her personal life.  

       But it’s too late now, the neighbours are already talking about some other things at hand and some of them were downright nasty and disrespectful. Mostly revolving around how and why. But nobody knows for sure. The dark, lonesome night before had brought along a wonderful reason to kill. Taking a life seems rather like a mundane, typical and projected expression of a strong internal struggle of an individual. One could come up with so many reasons to justify one's acts in the eyes of God and the true pleasure differed between each one of us.

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