"It was an accident," I said.
" Even so, this man is dead, and you're the one who murdered him," The cop said," Now if you'd mind, could you tell me the whole story, and I mean from the very beginning."
" Okay, I was born August 13th, which happened to be a full moon and on a Friday. My parents wanted to put me up for adoption but ended up taking me in anyways. Though I don't think this information is important and for all do respect, I think I should skip a couple of years," I said.
" Alright, then let us get to the point, tell me how you met, and that's as far back as I need," The cop said.
" Delightful," I said, " I think it was around kindergarten when I met him for the first time. It was one of those where you sit in a circle and tell each other your names. Though I can't say I cared about the other student's names, they were too predictable and boring to remember anyways. Though his name had a ring to it and it was quite fun to say. His name was Kiz Villin, though, for some reason, he wanted to go by Jason, cause it was easier to say. Though I don't understand the process of how Kiz got to Jason, I preferred his real name. Even though that's when we met, we didn't start talking until the second grade when we got paired for a project. I think it was a reading project, but I'm not sure. We were both acting dumb, so it was a bit challenging. I had an Iq of around 130, and I don't know about him, but we both knew exactly how the project worked, but acting dumb was pretty fun, so we failed the project in the end. We had a lot of fun and ended up becoming close friends. Around third grade, he had told me he had a rare autosomal recessive disorder called Congenital insensitivity. I had thought that it was pretty cool, he didn't. I didn't know what to tell him to make him feel better, so I told him a secret that I had, that I had a younger identical twin brother. At that time, my brother was living with my grandparents cause my parents were still young and were short on money and couldn't afford two kids. I had only seen my brother twice at that time. Though, that isn't important until later. Kiz was pretty shocked when I mentioned that, though he never asked for proof, which shocked me quite a bit. We got closer over the years, and by fifth-grade, people assumed we were either dating or family. Also, around fifth grade, my mom was diagnosed with Coronary artery disease. She had died the next year. After she died, I went numb. I was in serious denial. I even turned to cutting for a short while, and when I say it's addicting, I'm not lying. It was even more addicting than drugs, and I would know I used Marijuana for a while as well, it made me happy, and that felt good, definitely since my mom just died. Honestly, what I'm curious about now is how a sixth grader got Marijuana. It was Kiz who got me out of that, and I couldn't stop crying that night, his shoulder was wet by the next morning. That was the best day of my life, cause afterward, we stayed up watching cringey movies and eating his entire kitchen. We didn't wake up until about nine at night the next day. When we woke up, my dad took me to a mental hospital for my depression. I stayed there for three days. Then my dad sent me to a military school because he didn't want to see me. The rules there were crazy, but I survived, and my dad took me out when I turned 16. I found out he had bought me an apartment because he had moved overseas and started a new family. I haven't seen him once since he sent me to the military school, he hasn't even sent me a card," I said.
" This isn't therapy, get to the point," The cop yelled, annoyed.
" Sorry, sir, but there is a reason for all of this," I said.
" Then continue," The cop said.
"Alright," I said, " When I found out my dad left me to go make a new family, I snapped. What was even worse, he had taken my twin brother with him, or so I was told. He had sold my brother to human traffickers so he would have enough money to go overseas and buy a new house, but he had lied to me so I wouldn't save him. Though, Kiz had bought him so he wouldn't end up dead. When my brother finally explained what happened, I wanted my father out of my life. Forever! When I turned eighteen, Kiz told me someone had killed my father. I didn't want him dead, I hated him, yeah, but he was still my dad. Later that night, I overheard Kiz say he had hired the assassin to kill my father and that the only reason he bought my brother was cause he honestly thought it was me. That made me angry. He wasn't the person I thought he was. I had to get revenge for my father, but he couldn't feel pain. So I'd kill him, an eye for an eye.
Though days had passed and I had yet to kill him. After some time, I wondered if I had been over-dramatic, I mean he only killed my father cause he thought he was helping me. I didn't understand that such a thought would change my opinion later, but at the time, I wanted to give him a chance. I honestly wish I had just killed him sooner, but I was a dumb, naive child who wanted to see the best in everyone. Ugh, I wish I was smarter. I wish I would've thrown him off a building, problem solved. I couldn't do it, I loved him, though it was hard to do sometimes. Though every day at around two a.m, he'd come to my house covered in blood and put tallies on my window. I know what they mean now, but back then, I found it creepy. I almost called the cops once, and now I wish I had. I'm starting to think this entire interrogation is about how I regret every decision in life. That's a whole mood, though.
The next couple of months had passed, and he had stopped coming, just out of nowhere, he was gone. Kiz stopped showing up at my house or school. He had almost entirely vanished. I say almost because he'd still post on social media and keep everyone updated. Now that I think about it, I almost forgave him.
I wasn't necessarily the forgiving type, but I don't know he was incredibly adorable, and I couldn't stop loving him. All of this sounds quite pitiful, but I was friends with him for quite a long time. Though, all that pity turned to hate when I figured out what he had been doing while his absents. He had gone mad. He had murdered his entire family. Each of his tallies represented one of his murder victims. I no longer contradicted myself. This man was no longer human. He had to disappear from this world. He was unwanted trash. An absolute piece of garbage.
In the next couple of days, I created the perfect murder. First, I would tie him up with an anchor. Then I would concreate his feet for extra measures. Lastly, I would throw him into the deep part of the ocean where he'd be crushed. Though knocking this man out would be quite the problem. I'd have to find him first. Then I'd have to figure out how to knock out a trained assassin. I don't remember ever figuring that part out. I had someone facial track him while he did his daily catch up vlog. He smiled so brightly, so very blindingly bright. I couldn't wait for him to scream in pain. How was I supposed to know I'd all end as an accident.
The day had finally come. He'd die today. I placed everything in my truck and drove over to his place. He opened the door and smiled, and in a flash, his arms were wrapped around me. I looked up and smiled. This man was gonna die soon. We spent the whole day together, laughing and joking. I couldn't kill him. As I was leaving, I picked up a knife I had left there last time. He ran over to me and hugged me by the door. I hugged back forgetting about the knife, forgetting what he had done, and worst of all, I forgot I was being hugged by a killer. When I let go, I had realized, I had pierced this man in the heart. He was dead, and you, my nice cop, know the rest."