She screams so loud the speakers make cracking noises. "Help me! Help me, someone!" Over and over again, desperate attempts to plea with me and when that doesn't work, anyone else who can hear her. But no one can, I made sure that she was so isolated that no one would find her, but just in case she lucks out and someone does come close enough to hear, I have made the small shack soundproof.
A smile creeps onto my face when I see that all of her struggling has cause a wound on her elbow. I would have thought that she was smart enough to tell that she couldn't get out, but she's one of those girls that won't give up and is dumb enough to try anything.
Her screams start to quiet down for a moment and so I turn up the volume. "Why me?" She asks, like every girl that has been trapped in that small shack. For some strange reason the answer is my favorite, because I chose you. Really it is a compliment but none of them take it as one, instead they whimper or beg or scream--something loud and annoying. Maybe if they were quieter we could spend more time together.
My dad, the one that taught me all of my strategies, has always said I pick the wrong ones. But he doesn't agree with anything I do or however I do it. I don't care what he thinks, he left me to do this chore by myself. I used to believe that once I started getting better at it then he would be pleased with me, but it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter.
"Let me out of here!" Her voice, once soft, now has a roughness to it from screaming so much. I hate the sound. I turn the volume down again but close up on her. I better leave soon so I can get to her before seven, I don't like to be out there when it's so cold, neither does she or any of the previous ones, I'll bring her a blanket.
I leave the computer screen to get a blanket in the living room. When I walk past the computer again I can't help but smile at her quietness, I turn up the volume again. Maybe she will listen to me and won't scream so much. I can't help but notice her pretty brown hair collecting in natural curls, she will look very pretty resting against the tree, like I have planned. None of their parents thank me for making them look so beautiful when their natural rosy blood is no longer bright and pulsing under their cheeks.
She screams again, "help me!"
I roll my eyes and walk away from the computer. When I fling the door open I hit the ground, and hard, so hard that my back aches and my lungs, also scream, but instead for air not freedom. They roll me onto my stomach and cuff me behind my back.
"You are under arrest for kidnap and seven murder cases." I stare at the vest that says FBI on it. My smile widens, I don't have to keep trying to please my dad even if he is gone I know he was still watching. Now he can't. Then I frown, now she's free, but a smile reforms me, I am free too.
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