The Doll Collector's Son

Chapter 7: Kris' Diary

October 6th, 2014

There is no handbook on how to become... well, I haven't really become anything. That part of me, I haven't come to terms with yer. I don't really know what it is that I'll be doing. Well, okay, I do. How do you admit that to yourself? That you're looking for someone to kill. Perhaps that's the wrong word, too. I'll be immortalizing someone. It took some time to figure out how to properly watch someone without being too obvious. My presence was easily noticed and perhaps that's because I carry the presence of a cop. My wardrobe changed, then my personality, and finally the way I looked. It wasn't much. Each time I tried to put on a disguise it looked like one, so I changed small things like the way I fixed my hair and the color of my eyes. My hunting grounds were a couple of cities away where I wouldn't run into fellow officers or civilian workers from the station. Less people noticed me, and I was able to hold conversations with people without being memorable. How did I know this? They were usually employees of whatever business I was patronizing, and when I returned a few days later to pick up the conversation where it left off, they had no idea who I was. I hadn't brought myself to actually take anyone yet. Just the thought of it sent my heart racing and not in a good way, it wouldn't be in a good way just yet.

About three months after spending nearly a year creating another persona, I decided to take a trip as the new persona. I went to Arizona, to a small town just outside of phoenix. It looked like it was stuck in the 1980s with beat up old trucks, kids riding in the flatbeds with no seatbelts. Everyone was dressed in cowboy boots and hats, all carrying guns. It was certainly different from California, but I didn't mind, it was a nice change. The whole town could use a facelift into the present, though. I went into a diner that looked like it was bustling. Inside the waitresses were dressed in pink uniforms out of the 60s, oldies playing on a jukebox set into the corner. The smell of greasy food wafted out from the window that opened into the kitchen. A waitress zoomed by telling me she'd be right with me. I slid into the booth closest to the exit on the other side of the restaurant. My side faced the entrance, perfect for people watching. Their patrons consisted mainly of families with screaming children and elderly parents in tow.

The waitress who had spoken to me seemed overwhelmed with the amount of customers, so I waited patiently. Out of the corner of my eye, a woman stepped towards the booth. I glanced up to meet eyes with a young waitress holding a notepad. Her hair was swept up into a ponytail with a ribbon. If I didn't know any better I'd say she was a high school girl from the 60s come to ask me to the sock hop. I smiled, looking at the menu I hadn't even bothered to pick up yet. It was faded with time, the plastic it was laminated with curling on the edges and slick with old grease. My toes curled in disgust, but I didn't let it show on my face. Who knew how many damn germs were crawling all over this place.

I ordered their breakfast platter and a cup of coffee. She lingered for a few seconds longer than necessary, cheeks blushing as I held her gaze. Yes, young girls were easy, especially from small towns where they'd grown up with everyone. A stranger was always exciting. I ate slowly when she brought my plate, hoping she would interpret it as lingering for her company. She stopped by frequently to check how my meal was going, each time flitting away with pink tinge on her cheeks.

My breakfast settled heavily in my stomach, going past being satiated and more like being stuffed. I rose, leaving a couple bills on the table, extra for the young lady's tip. She spotted me from the counter and circled around a large group of entering customers to come see me off. Her eyes were glittering with nerves as a small blush crept up into her cheeks again. She stuttered out for me to have a good day. Time for the charm to kick in. I thought back to a most embarrassing memory, allowing for my own blush to show up as I reached back to the table to pick up her tip. I placed it in her hands, thanking her for such good service. I'd had better, but she was open to compliments from a stranger. Her blush deepened as she giggled out girlishly. I smiled in satisfaction, but to her it surely appeared to be flirtatious. We stood facing each other for a few seconds longer, then shyly decided to part ways. She watched me leave through the back exit. I looked over my shoulder catching her eyes, and grinned before turning the corner out of sight.