"Al. You are the brains, this is the only way I'll be useful during this process. Just let me do it, please!" Mara looks at me with pleading eyes and I sigh, handing her the dry erase marker.
"Fine. But you have to keep up! This kind of work has no room for error," I say jokingly as I sit on the chair a few feet in front of the giant white board that I had purchased yesterday, just to keep all of our ducks in a row.
"Alright. So how will we format our process?" Mara says and pops the lid off of the marker.
"Maybe we should list steps. And leave areas next to the steps for the clues we find along the way," I suggest. Mara nods in agreement.
"Okay, step one . . . " She draws a big red '1' in the top right corner of the board and circles it.
"Research. This would include asking the host of the party who showed up, who was upstairs, interviewing people at the party, figuring out who Darren hung out with and if he had any enemies, etc," I pause for a moment, letting Mara finish up writing.
Once she finishes, she turns and looks at me with a bewildered look,"How in the seven levels of hell are we going to pull this off?"
"You're good with people, Mara. Go ask around. Talk to the party host, find out who Darren hung out with," I smile up at her. "We can pull this off."
"And what about you?" She questions, placing a hand on her hip.
"You know, they say you can find anything on the internet," I smile at her, and she sends a knowing grin.
* * *
While Mara is out trying to juice information out of people, something she does best, I sit at home on my laptop.
"Alright, social media. Don't let me down now," I get on Facebook and type in Darren's name. Surprisingly, we're already friends.
Something about his page puts me off. I scroll down and see a post. I know something is wrong instantly. This post was shared less than 24 hours ago, after Darren is already dead. If someone is trying to fuck with his friends, that's messed up.
I wonder if we've ever talked before, and if anything telling might be in our conversation. I click the button on his profile that takes me to my messages, and to no surprise, there's no conversation. But I do see something that makes my stomach drop instantly.
'Active Now'
What. The. Hell.
I breathe out, putting my fingers to the keyboard.
Me - Who the hell is on this account?
I hold my breath as I wait for a reply, and just hope to god it's not his mother turning his account into a memorial page or some shit.
It seems like I'm sitting and staring at the screen for a decade before I see three dots pop up. A few more minutes pass by, the dots going on and off.
'Darren'- I'm his killer.
My heart skips a beat as I read the word. What if he's lying? I quickly type a response.
Me - I could get the police to trace you, you know that, right?
'Darren' - And you know I have some very incriminating evidence with your fingerprints all over it.
I suddenly feel like I just inhaled a can of helium and I suddenly feel dizzy. How did he know that I was the person who knocked him out?
Me - You're jumping to conclusions rather fast. How do you know it was me and not one of the dozens of other girls at that party?
'Darren' - You just confirmed it for me.
My eyes widen.
Me - How so?
'Darren'- I don't recall mentioning a party.
Me - That doesn't mean anything. We all know he died during that party. You, however, just helped me out.
'Darren'- Now it's my turn. How so?
Me - Now I know for sure you were at the party. And that you would have had to see me leave the room. You were one of the people I passed by on the stairs.
'Darren' - So you know who I am?
Me - No. But I do have one last question for you.
'Darren' - You're talking to an alleged killer and you only have one question?
Me - I'll forgo your arrogance for the sake of my question. Why did you kill him?
It's a few minutes of typing once again before he actually responds.
'Darren' - I like killing people. I like to hear them scream, watch them struggle. They know that they can't get away but they try anyways. Blood excites me. The thrill of the kill. Will I be caught? Probably not, but that always give me adrenaline. I don't have a type, either, which makes finding a victim even easier. But to be honest with you, I wasn't even going to kill anyone last night. I was there for the alcohol. But then I saw you running from the bedroom- you looked panicked and your hair was disheveled. And when I walked into the room my suspicions were confirmed- he had tried to rape you. It was obvious. That made it all the more satisfying to kill him.
Me - So rape is terrible, but murder is okay with you?
'Darren' - You said only one question.
Me - With follow ups.
'Darren' - I would never hurt a woman - unless she asked me too. Murder is one thing - but I believe all sexual acts have to be consensual in order for both parties to enjoy.
Me - I see. One more question, why don't you just frame me?
'Darren' - The same reason you won't tell the police that we had this conversation.
Me- Why are you so confident that I won't?
'Darren' - It's all one big game to you. I may be a murderer, but you're no better.
I don't respond. I just kind of stare at his response. He's right.
I don't care about Darren, I don't care about the bottle because I know he won't frame me.
Am I really as bad as a murderer?
'Darren' - That's what I thought.
YOU ARE READING
The Murderer's Experiment
Misterio / SuspensoHe pressed the blade of the knife against her neck and she gasped. "You wouldn't. You won't." she said confidently. The look in his eyes, however, made her believe he might. "You're right, princess. At least, not without your permission." Sh...
