The jar
By: Shrek ._.
Tags: Murder, Stories, Crime Fiction

Tick tock. Tick tock. William looks at the clock. He rocks back and forth. He can not bring back the time. He was thinking, why did he do this? Not even he knew truly. He just just guessed the anger inside was building up from the first time he was called a loser. He also kind of thought that he wasn’t worthy of life after the things in his disturbing jar but he couldn’t help it. He had to keep them. He looked down and realised it was his time to go.

Beeep. Beeep. Beeep. His alarm clock was going off. He woke up and got dressed. It’s time for him to go to the place that makes him the most angriest. School. The place where no one likes him. As he leaves the house darkness emerges and it starts to rain. He knows it’s going to be one of the worst days ever. As he arrives at school he hears the words ‘loser’,’pale ghost’ and ‘neek’. He sits on the table in the corner plotting his revenge. Rachel walks up to him and says “what are you doing later? Can I come over?” He tells her sure. He feels as if he may have finally found a friend. Rachel had long, lucious brown hair and pretty brown eyes. She was new here and he thought she didn’t know that he was a loser. They spent the rest of the day together. They even had lunch together. For some reason people laughed at them together.

At three o’clock they left school together. It was almost like they knew each other for years. When they arrived they went straight to his room. He went to get some snacks and then he heard, AAAAAHHHHH. He returned straight away. She found it. The jar that if ever was found he would be done for. The items inside were just so disturbing. This is one of the worst things anyone could have seen. He knew exactly what to do. BANG. She was conscious but not really present. Her body on the cold floor of his basement. He looked at the clock two hours till his parents returned. He knew he had to rush. He grabbed her. Then he taped her to a table. He began cutting. He started on her arm. She screamed for a little bit, but then turned pale. The dark red blood was everywhere. THUD. One arm in the bucket. THUD. Another arm in the bucket. THUD. A foot. THUD. Another foot. THUD. THUD. Two calfs. THUD. A thigh. THUD. Another thigh. All that was left was the trunk of her body and her pale lifeless head. He got a spoon and scooped out her eyes and plopped them in a jar. He put his foot on the sturdy chair that was against the wall, then held tightly onto her hair, pushed down on her shoulder and pulled. Pop. He ripped her head off with the help of the gash across her neck. In each bucket William poured hydrofluoric acid, which is extremely corrosive, and waited.

As he was pouring the last of the acid in he heard the door open. It was his parents. “William!” they screamed. BANG. BANG. William had just picked up his fathers armalite AR-15 and shot them in cold blood. He felt no empathy. He realised he had some more cleaning to do. There were blood splatters all over the wall. His parents’ faces were now deformed from the bullets but the eyes were untouched. He then scooped out their eyeballs and plopped them into the same jar and then shut it. He then poured Rachels liquid body down the bath. After that he returned back to the bath with his parents limp bodies and placed them in the bath. He then corroded their bodies as well and let them go down the drain. Now it was time for him to tackle the mess in the basement. He got down on his knees and started scrubbing. After hours and hours he had finished cleaning everything, even the walls. He then had to get out of his bloody clothes. He opened the basement door. It was bright out. He looked at the clock and it was almost time for school. He started to rush. He didn’t want anyone suspicious about why he was late to school. He had a hot shower and scrubbed so hard that his arms turned red. He had to get all that dried blood off. He put on some fresh clothes and headed off to school.

It was around ten fifteen in the morning when two police officers came into Williams English lesson and took him out. They sat him in a room and asked him questions about Rachel. They asked him “Where did you go”,”Was anyone else there”,”What happened” and “When did it happen”. He responded “We only went to my house”,”No one else was there”,”We just had some snacks and told me that she had to go home soon” and “It was around three to four because we went straight to my house after school”. They then let him go. He knew they were on to him when they told him that he was the last one to see her. He ran straight home.

Gun to his head, soaking with tears, questioning his existence. All he could hear was tick tock, tick tock. He looks at the clock. Rocking back and forth. He was thinking, why did he do this? Not even he knew truly. He just just guessed the anger inside was building up from the first time he was called a loser. He also kind of thought that he wasn’t worthy of life after the things in his disturbing jar but he couldn’t help it. He had to keep them. He looked down and realised it was his time to go. He then got a match and lit the ethanol trail. BANG.