Word of the day: James Johnson. A paranoid young computer engineer with a knack for convenient observation skills.
The girl and I did just that. We hid the body in the boiler room, which was an awful idea, but we didn't know what else to do with it. The dumpster would have been a more reasonable place to dispose a body, but no one went into the boiler room except for the creepy guy. Therefore, it only made sense we stuffed him there.
The girl remained in her hiding spot, where I gave her food and paper supplies so that she could document all she could remember.
I, returned to the upstairs, my mind whirling around ideas and scenarios about my office colleagues. Were all of them suspects to a murder? Who would want to kill me (a nobody) and the beautiful angel underneath the staircase?
It was strange entering the cubical after now realising different people were plotting my death. It was weird. There were multiple times I wanted to so dreadfully hurl myself out of my bedroom window, but now, now that someone else wanted control of my life, I never wanted to live so badly.
I was also slightly mad that someone wanted to kill me...it didn't make sense. But I suppose that's what I'm needed to do before the next day. The police, I'm sure, will question me why we hid the body and didn't call immediately. But I never said any of us were the normal types to do normal things.
I was also wondering why the girl was so calm. For being held captive for many, many nameless months, I would think that would take a toll on her sanity.
As I sat down at my desk, I saw Mark on the phone line in the corner. He looked nervous. He was rubbing his forehead pretty frantically.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I took out a sheet of paper and clicked a pen to life. I smiled, excited by the beginning of the case.
Mark will be our first suspect.
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Extraterrestrial | #wattys2016
Mystery / ThrillerHe's in all of us. He knows our minds. He can see through our eyes. He's an outcast living in the inside - the ghost of society. Enter the dark and tragic life of the lowly James Johnson as he trudges forward as an office drone in a boring textile...