That's how long it's been since I've made contact with anyone on the outside.
From the way I'm talking someone would think I'm on a super secret superhero mission or something but no, the only super secret thing I'm doing is trying to figure out how to kill a man without getting caught.
Since the day I saw Flint Marco, the man who murdered my uncle in cold blood, the only emotion I've been able to feel is anger. So much anger that I don't have the decency to pick up the phone whenever Anastasia or any of my friends would call, nor would I bother getting up from bed to answer the door when they'd actually show up.
I don't even speak to May anymore, which seems physically impossible, since she lives in this apartment with me. It's true though, she always attempts to make conversation with me and I always either ignore her or give her one word answers.
Lately I've been watching a ton of murder and police documentaries, trying to figure out how these murderers either got away or didn't get away with their crimes and mentally taking notes. Usually though, there aren't much tips, what I've mostly been doing is getting annoyed at the murderers who've been caught because of stupid mistakes like killing someone in broad daylight or not burying the body once they're done.
I've been practically stalking him these past four days, seeing what Flint's been getting up to since he got an early release from prison.
It angers me so much, not just because he's somehow rigged the system and got out decades early, but mostly because he's happy. Men and women like him don't deserve happiness, they don't deserve the luxury of being able to crack a smile when people like me haven't lifted their lips up in days.
Flint Marco spends his mornings in bed, his afternoons at the gym and his evenings at the casino. So I've got three possible locations where I could carry out this sin. I'm just about to decide on one when I hear the key coming through the door, telling me that May's home.
It also tells me that I need to go and board myself up in my room so I don't have to engage in any conversation with her.
I carry myself over to my bedroom, locking the door as soon as I close it. I don't have anything special to do in here, since I don't have the privilege of having a TV in my room so I could continue my research. I could go down to the library and search some stuff up on there but I don't feel comfortable having to do that in front of random strangers.
Since there's nothing better to do, I decide to clean out my drawers for the hell of it. I begin to think about Ben's dead body when I'm tossing all my jumbled clothes on the ground, basically feeling how warm his blood was on my hands. The way that warmth contrasted the coldness of his face will forever haunt me.
