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Amazing What Moonlight Can Do to a Person..
My hands were sweating and I knew if anyone had glanced at me,they could've just seen the anger,and the fear written across my face.
The room was quiet,and the only light came from the moon through the barred window.
I stared at the square of moonlight on the floor..the moon just casting it there,in that one place.
I heard footsteps form outside the locked door.
There were voices between the men,but I couldn't make out just what was passing between their lips in conversation.
The more they went on outside the door,and the way the moonlight was just resting at my feet..I knew my world was crumbling.
I heard the locks clicking as the door creaked open,and the clicking of my mother's heels to the concrete flooring.as she and two policemen walked in.
She was grasping a tissue in one hand,her purse in the other.
She sat quietly at the other end of the table.
The police stood next to me,one on each side.
I pressed my lips together,and sighed to myself.
The thoughts going through my mind,as I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I looked up at my mother.
She was restraining tears,she made it obvious.
She was squeezing the small tissue in her hand as she covered her mouth.
She tightly closed her eyes as if to wake herself from a horrible dream.
I grinned at her.
Not to be mean,but to just light a tiny fuse in her mind,that would later come back to her,and explode.
She gasped and looked away.
But I could see her eyes locking with my own from the corner of her eye.
She couldn't resist.
I knew she thought that her own spawn couldn't pull off such incredible deeds.
They were all three in conversation,and whenever I was brought up,or asked a question,
I simply nodded my head,yes..or no.
I wasn't about to spill my secrets.
Not so soon,no.I would let them ponder it over and over in their pathetic wastes of minds.
I was in terrible condition,and frightened,but I wasn't about to let them in on that secret.
I had blood on my hands...but it wasn't mine.
Small series of cuts all over my arms,scratch marks.
the bruises weren't entirely visible,but they would be in a couple days.
I was covered,and I had the scene of the crime all over my body.
My eyes were shooting between them.
To the first man,and then to the second,then I would smile evilily at my mother.
She would just turn her head as not to notice I was even in the room.
While they were trying to figure out if it was me that had done it.
The deed that had brought me into this dark room,where only the moonlight was comfort.
Where I was behind a locked door,with a barred window.
The small chair I was sitting in was icy a few hours ago.
the table was still.
I crossed my mucked up arms along its cold overtop,and rested my head on them.
I felt a hand return to my shoulder.
For I was only twelve,and I was actually related to these particular policemen,they were sceptical to beleive what I was capable of.
They were asking eachother if I was mad,or disturbed in some way.
I wonder if i was fast enough to run through the door they stupidly left swinging.If they'd be quick enough to catch me.
What would they do..if..
I continued pondering the thoughts in my head.
While working on a way to further comprimise my conspiricy..
I was indeed mad.I couldn't deny it,but I was fully capable of thought and controling myself.
They knew that,which must've been why they hadn't threw my in a straight jacket and already had me locked away.
They were curious as to why I did what I did..
And if I didn't do it,why I was there,leaning over a mutitlated corpse which was curiously laying below where I was,crouched,breathing heavily,and laughing out loud.
I remember all of the sirens,and how thye searched the house for me until they found me.
Calmly staying put,a little swaying back and forth off blance,as I laughed.Covered in blood.His blood.He wasn't fit to tell me what I was and was not capable of anyway.He got what he deserved,and provided me with mere practice.I was thrown into the back of a policecar,and strolled down 53rd street,to the old jailhouse near the bank.Where I was violently tossed into a small room.Questioned,and left there for hours.
When I was pulled up from my seat,and marched towards the door.
The men where with me,one in front,the other behind me.
I shared one more sly grin with my mother as I passed her and quietly exited the room.
She laid her head on the table and let soft tears roll down her face.
I loved the lush,crimson feeling on my hands..I loved the screams of pain I witnessed..I loved to torture my mum without even touching her.
I paused and turned her way when I heard her soft whisper.."Who are you?" and she threw her head bakc down on the tabletop and sobbed to herself.
"Let's go.Move it.It's going to be an interesting night for you,Boy."
The one behind me was roughly shoving me forward every few steps.I knew it hurt him to do so to his own nephew,but he wanted someone back.He was furious I had taken him away from him.
I just chuckled to myself with every thrust of his hand on to my back.
I was now standing in a narrow white hallway,agaisnt a ice cold wall,as the handcuffs were shoved onto my wrists.I turned and stared at them,with my deep gray eyes.My hair was shaggy and covering the tops of my eyes,but I made sure that they were stricken cold when I stared into theirs.I loved it when they locked their eyes with mine,then they would pause for a moment,then continue forcing me to wherever they were headed.
My name is Vladimir Stranger.
And tonight,I murdered my father.
...to be continued.