weapons † hs

1. sociopath or psychopath?

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In other news, our small town of Pebblebrook has been experiencing countless mysterious cases of missing women recently. However, the Pebblebrook police force with Sheriff McCarthy have put numbers together and discovered that these missing cases haven't just recently increased, but have been steadily increasing over the past three years specifically...

As I wrap my wet hair in a towel, something men with long hair should have no shame in doing, I bring myself downstairs to make coffee, the news going on in the background for noise that I don't bother listening to.

When you live in a huge loft in the hills on your own, you keep background noise going. It's actually the only constant noise in my house, aside from the beautiful noises that come from the women I bring home.

Sheriff McCarthy tells us that his concern is great, and that he plans to seek justice for the many women, wives, and mothers, who have seemingly disappeared. He believes that he might have a serious, big case in his hands, something a little unusual for our town, and is dedicated to solving it with the help of the FBI.

I think over my plans for today as my coffee brews, and write up a to do list out of utter boredom.

Considering I just made my way out of the last idiotic sex-addict meeting a few days ago, I scribble down that I should avoid the angry calls of my therapist.

My eyes look up in thought of anything else I need to do, and I end up writing to find some beautiful woman to carve.

I've gone without it for a few days, might as well treat myself.

My stomach growls and I drop the pen to search for some food, but I find my fridge nearly empty for anything remotely brunch related, and I groan over the fact that living alone makes it ten times harder to remember needing food. Underneath my last activity on the list, I jot down to go grocery shopping, making a short list underneath of what to buy before suddenly getting the idea to kill two birds with one stone, and I write "woman" right at the bottom below kale on my grocery store list.

My last thought brings out a light chuckle from my lips. Literally kill two birds with one stone...

I was never the smartest, but I always had it with the good jokes and looks of course.

Police have informed us there are a couple of suspects they have developed with only slight evidence, with plans to get more evidence in the upcoming weeks, but the Sheriff says it'll be as long as it takes to keep women in this town safe. The suspects are to be taken in for questioning this morning. Video recordings from where many victims have last been seen have showed the major suspect of the case: Harry Edward Styles. Police are taking him in for questioning as we speak. 

The coffee finishes brewing and I start serving it, whistling a tune when suddenly I hear a knock on my door and some mumbling behind it that I cannot quite hear. My brows furrow as I set the coffee pot down on the counter, whistling still as I slowly leave my kitchen and approach the door, undoing my shoulder-length hair and tossing the towel on the sofa of the living room. I ruffle through my damp waves before I unlock and open the front door, my whistle slowly dying out when I find two cops in front of me, both holding their badges out.

"Uh," I chuckle, "if you're looking for your doughnuts, I didn't steal them."

"Are you Harry Edward Styles," the shorter one of the nervous-looking men questions seriously, completely ignoring my comment.