Life is fun, but so is murder…

Part one :

A very thin line separates the living from the dead or the breathing from those who have had their last breath.

A bullet.
The pointy end of a knife.
Cold strong arms.
Our favorite food or drink.
Love, or…Plain madness.
I would choose the last option because it’s never predictable.
But how do you even know you’re not mad?
Madness is relative, if you ask me.
What if mad people are the truly sane ones? 🤔
To some, I am deranged, but to me, I am a symphony of control, a ballet of precision and creativity.

I’m sitting in front of my mirror.
My modifier.
Sitting and putting the pieces in place.
This is where it all starts…

I begin by painting my pain in colors that match my skin tone, carefully blending until my scars are hidden. Placing my silver crown on my natural-looking wig, I check to ensure it still fits—my one constant, though even it might abandon me someday. The debate over lipstick—red devil or black widow—settles as I stare at my reflection, practicing a smile that masks the madness within. As I lift the crown, I notice the uncolored lines on my wrist and quickly conceal them. With my disguise perfected, I am ready.
Now we are done; time to take the stage.

I opened the door to my theater, and everyone was dressed up as always. I knew every one of them by name. At the center of the first row sat my very best friend. She was still as beautiful as I remembered, her lovely eyes visible despite her facial expression looking more baked now than a few weeks back. I would have to redo their makeup, but that would be much later. I made a little announcement to let my audience know that today’s showtime was going to be postponed a bit, but it would be worth it. I could hear their applause and feel their anticipation for a thrilling experience—or at least, that’s what I saw in the various immovable eyes that looked back at me when I pressed the recorded crowd applause sound effect. Leaving the stage, I turned the locks. No one needed to know what went on in my sanctuary, the only place I felt alive, welcomed, and loved. Everyone has a right to their religion, you know.

Tonight was special. My star, Philip, would be arriving soon, and everything had to be perfect. I took a moment to savor the eerie silence of my theater, imagining the excitement that was about to unfold. The thrill of anticipation was almost too much to bear. I glanced back at my audience, their frozen expressions a testament to my meticulous work. They were my masterpieces, each one playing their part in this grand performance. The stage was set, and I was ready to bring the house down.

As I prepared for the night’s events, I reminded myself of the importance of timing. Everything had to go according to plan. I couldn’t afford any mistakes. My heart raced with excitement and a touch of anxiety. This was my moment, and I was determined to make it unforgettable.

I took a deep breath, checked my tools one last time, and waited for the curtain to rise on tonight’s show. The star was almost here, and soon, the performance of a lifetime would begin.

Gloves, check. Bag pack, check. Everything was inside. I need to leave now if I’m going to get there 30 minutes early to complete my plan for the star of our show tonight.

I drove to the spot I marked a month ago and killed the engine. Turning off my lights, I set up my binoculars in the perfect location. From the beeping I could hear, our star was almost here. It always pays that the meeting spot is close to the office.

Through the binoculars, I spotted Philip’s car approaching. He parked just as I expected, a bit uncertain in the unfamiliar area. The excitement bubbled up inside me. Everything was falling into place. He got out of the car, looking around nervously, but there was no one else in sight. Perfect.

As he stood there, checking his phone, I double-checked my tools. Tonight had to go smoothly. I took a deep breath, savoring the thrill of the moment. The time had come to make my move

Now let the pre-show begin…

The fact that every victim is different creates this rush of excitement — like how we felt when we were naïve teenagers in love, even though some had imaginary lovers — keeps me going.
One two, one two, one two… I counted as the pendulum in my car swindled while I patiently waited. I think the second-best part of this is the waiting. There’s this little anxiety that gnaws at me because there’s always a probability of them not showing up or showing up and leaving like Mathew and Isaac. My phone buzzing brought me back to reality just in time to see him drive through. It was him. Yes, he came. We were going to have a show after all. This one wore a fancy blue tie with a pattern on it. I couldn’t see what it was exactly, but I liked it. He stayed in his car for a while — these binoculars need changing — probably contemplating how early he was. Oh no, he’s not thinking of leaving, is he? He stepped out of the car, and I watched him walk into the restaurant with so much stride; what a perfect star for tonight’s show. My alarm rang. It was time to leave and breathe. Perfect. Everything was going according to plan. I just needed to do one more thing. I searched for the valve core I had bought in my pocket, and the internet had said it was “a safe and civilized way” to deflate a tire. I was civilized to some extent if you asked me.

Then, I switched off my phone.

…

[Christy’s office phone ringing]

Who’s calling this late? Christen’s secretary, Ada, rhetorically asked.

“Hello, Christen’s office,” Ada answered the phone. She suspected it was Philip calling, as Christen had been eagerly talking about her date tonight with someone she hadn’t even met in person yet. Some people find love online, but I’m not that crazy, Ada thought to herself. “She just went to use the bathroom,” Ada continued, “but she’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll let Christen know you called.”

“Thank you,” Philip said and hung up. Ada had heard so much about Philip despite never having seen him. I hope she finds love this time, she thought as she prepared to go home.

“Christen, where have you been?” Ada asked as Christen walked in, looking as if she had run a marathon.

“That bad?” Christen replied with a wry smile. “Anyways, your work phone has been ringing, and ‘you-know-who’ called,” Ada said, rolling her eyes and grinning.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot my cell phone,” Christen said. “I had a little situation in the restroom. It must have been the seafood we ate for lunch, was I gone for that long? I’ll call him right back. Thank you, Ada. Are you already packing?”

“Yes,” Ada replied, somewhat happy.

“I should too,” Christen murmured to herself.

Christen dialed Philip’s number. “Hey, baby,” Philip said when he picked up. Christen loved the way he said that, judging by the big grin on her face. He is the sweetest man in the world for me, Christen thought.

“I had to call your work line since your mobile wasn’t going through,” Philip said.

“It must be dead; I haven’t plugged it in since morning,” Christen lied.

“I was calling to check on you and, you know, our date that you’re ten minutes late for.” She could imagine the smirk on his face by the smile she let out.

“I know work is a bit full right now, so I wanted to know if we should reschedule,” Philip said.

“Oh, no, darling,” Christen said, cutting him off. “I’m almost out of the office. I’m done for the day. I can’t wait to see you finally, and we are not canceling.”

“Me too, baby,” Philip said and hung up.

As Christen reached for her office wardrobe knob, Ada appeared. “Christen, I’m on my way now if I’m going to catch tonight’s episode on Too Hot To Handle. I just stopped by to let you know I was leaving. Goodnight.” She looked back with a mischievous smile and said, “Enjoy your date.”

“Thanks, Ada,” Christen said with a sheepish grin. “I hope I will.”

If only the world were full of sane people, Christen thought as she changed into her outfit for the evening.

…

I laughed to myself as I walked down. Retrograde amnesia—who even knew that was a thing? You just had to hit the head at exactly the right angle to cause temporary memory loss. It took a lot of practice to perfect the momentum and angle, but my victims surely didn’t enjoy it. These writers are something else. Well, you couldn’t blame them; none of them was safe. Without my deep knowledge of biochemistry and chemistry, how would I have been able to develop a drug that causes rapid thiamine deficiency in just 20 minutes? It took time to achieve, understanding these metabolic pathways required patience, and modifying them was even more frustrating. You can trust these writers and all, but I couldn’t leave the possibility of being overpowered to chance. Even Goliath was defeated, after all. This drug will always help keep that possibility at bay. Things we do for love.

…

Christen watched Ada drive away, a thoughtful expression on her face. She does care about me, Christen mused. Ada reminded her of someone she used to know—Georgia. If only she knew. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Christen changed into her outfit, admiring her reflection in the half-size mirror in her office closet. She rummaged through her pack and pulled out her white gloves, smiling at how they perfectly complemented her ensemble. After a quick touch-up of her makeup, she headed to her car.

She looked stunning in a black, three-quarter-length, fully-sleeved, body-fitted gown that flared from the knee. A red-haired wig completed her look. Although the gown revealed only a small part of her lower elbow, it accentuated her figure flawlessly. This was her third time at this restaurant, each time with a different man. Christen giggled as she stepped out of her car, glancing at the CCTV camera mounted at the entrance and smiling—a smile that was as angelic as it was devilish. You couldn’t tell. She truly was beautiful.

Scanning the area, she saw him. They hadn’t met in person before, but the adoration on Phillips’s face was unmistakable as he watched her walk into the restaurant. She glided gracefully to his table and, using her “Stephanie’s voice,” asked rhetorically, “Phillips, right?”

He smiled, “How did you know?”

“Well, you’re the only one who looks like he wants to impress whoever he’s waiting for.”

“Indeed, I was,” Phillips said, taking her hand and kissing it. They both laughed and shared a light hug. “Allow me,” he said, pulling out the chair opposite him. “S’il te plaît, asseyez-vous, ma reine,” he added, mimicking a French accent. They laughed again.

“What does it mean?” Christen asked naively, smiling, though she knew very well that he had said, “Please sit, my queen.”

He smiled back, “You’re truly beautiful.”

She replied, “As are you, Monsieur.” They laughed again. “You look great,” Christen continued, “and your tie—the flowery patterns complement the blue color. It’s unique.”

Blushing, Phillips said, “It was a birthday gift,” his voice tinged with pride. They ordered their meals and started talking. Christen glanced at her wristwatch—it was about 7:45 PM. “The night is still young,” she whispered with a smile.

They shared stories about their silly meeting, his childhood, and hers—or at least, what she imagined it should have been. A few minutes after they finished eating, Christen grabbed her purse and excused herself to use the bathroom.

…

The stopwatch vibrated, I looked up and checked the restaurant wall clock and it was 8:28 pm. Two minutes earlier, I thought. Well, Christen was always on time.

…

As the barman sorted his drinks, a strikingly beautiful redhead approached him at the bar. He couldn’t quite tell if her hair was real or a wig. She complimented him sweetly and requested two glasses of champagne be sent to a table, gesturing towards Philip and Christen’s table. She spoke in almost a whisper, explaining they were celebrating, and smiled sheepishly. She had used this line before. The previous waiter would have recognized her.

Skeptically, the barman started pouring the champagne. As he did, the woman’s purse slipped to the other side of the bar. Bending to retrieve it, the barman was just out of sight long enough for her to slip two tablets into each drink. The pills didn’t produce much effervescence, so he remained unaware. She then headed to the restroom.

Christen, walking towards the ladies’ room, muttered to herself, “This night is going to be ecstatic.” Adjusting her hair and applying more lip gloss, she grinned mischievously at her reflection. “We are both going to get our freaks out tonight,” she said, brimming with excitement.

Returning to the table, she was met with an adoring smile from Philip. As she sat down, he asked, “You had to add the note as well?”

Christen, almost laughing, asked, “Which note?

“You pretending it wasn’t you is even more adorable”, Philip said, raising his glass for a toast. They clinked glasses, and Philip took a drink while Christen set hers down, still chewing her food.

…

As my stopwatch started vibrating, indicating it had been ten minutes since Philip drank his glass of champagne, I watched Christen closely. She was attempting to clean something off Philip’s face, accidentally spilling her glass of champagne in the process. It was either a mythical coincidence or Christen was an exceptional actor. Well, she’s never really disappointed me before.

…

“I’m sorry,” Philip said, reaching out.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Christen interrupted, waving him off. “It’s no biggie. I have a pair of sweats in my car; I’ll just change there.”

Philip looked at her with raised eyebrows. “I mean, it’s night already—no one’s going to see,” she giggled.

“You’re one crazy lady,” Philip said, laughing. He paid the bill, and they left the restaurant.

Christen had parked far east of the restaurant, a perfect spot for whatever “crazy” plan she had in mind. Philip suggested they use his car, but she insisted on driving him home since he had taken care of the bill. Being a gentleman, he refused. They walked to his car and noticed he had a flat tire. He asked where her car was parked, she pointed, and they walked to it. Christen giggled about how the universe wanted her to drive him home. “I’ll just have to come pick up my car tomorrow, then,” Philip said, smiling.

As they drove, Christen turned on the music and sped up. Amidst the loud music, Philip managed to ask, “How come your house is so far from your office?”

She smiled, talking about how she had always loved the quiet.

Ten minutes after leaving the restaurant, Philip started feeling dizzy. Almost immediately, Christen made a sharp turn. She continued speeding, and Philip weakly motioned for her to slow down, trying to understand what was happening to him. Just then, they hit a tree on the side of the road, and the car stopped abruptly.

When Philip came to it a few minutes later, Christen was nowhere to be found. Confused, he got out of the car and called her name, worried something terrible had happened to her. He heard a noise nearby. It was dark, and he was certain they were alone. Turning towards the sound, he barely had time to react before a loud bang on his head caused him to pass out.

Where was Christen? he thought as he fell unconscious.

…

I went up the stage to address my audience. Usually, I start our show—my show—with a small speech.

“Women have been ignored for so long, and it has allowed us to evolve right under their noses—what was that sound?”

I turned around and saw Philip—our star for tonight’s show—moaning and wincing in pain as he woke from his slumber. He partly opened his eyes, squinting against the bright light and groaning from the terrible headache. He began to whimper as he looked towards the audience, either because he saw half-baked people who were once alive, didn’t know where he was, didn’t remember anything… or the realization that he couldn’t feel his legs.

The End.

Comment for Part 2…