Lunatic (l.s)

Chapter 1- H

It's not everyday you hear of murders in Cheshire, in fact, it's barely if ever spoken of. The last murder was almost 35 years ago. The people of Cheshire probably had forgotten such thing even existed. It's statistics that 1 in 5 kids will suffer from psychological issues. It's always underlying issues though, depression, anxiety, a bit of paranoia and every now and then, maybe even schizophrenia, however, that's not common at all either. Cheshire is small, and sometimes even considered a bit too small to be called homely but that doesn't stop people from living there. The residents are nice, so it's shocking when the news hit the press, the residents and the news expands itself across the nation. They'd never thought a 20 year old boy that seemed so innocent could cause such crimes. It's not even a day before the news is spread across the entire continent and is displayed on almost every bloody television screen known to man. It's the same photo, over and over. The same boy standing in front of a white wall. It starts off with a view of his entire body and switches up to close up. The world is all too familiar with the pictures within 24 hours. It's a pale skinned boy, quite beautiful, and seems to innocent to be guilty for the crime. His jaw juts out, slightly clenched, his angular face is surrounded my a giant mop of dark, thick curls that clump together loosely around his ears, some even sweeping off into different direction. He appears to the spectators almost like a porcelain doll. His skin is smooth and has a lack of flaws, well, there was no flaw. His eyes bore right into the soul of the viewers, and it catches some off by guard. The eyes are the window to the soul, some people say. If this was a window, they're staring right at the flaming gates of hell. They're dark, no sign of remorse. His eyes were so captivating yet so haunting; dilated pupils that seem to take up most of the space and the faint ring of a dark, sea green. His eyes slightly tinted red, possibly stoned, probably drunk. His hands are bunched into tight and seemingly painful handcuffs, long, slender and pale fingers tightly clasping each other. The boy appears tall too, and thin. Evident by the skin tight jeans he is wearing. His legs seem to go on for miles, and his arms are long too, but his biceps slightly push at the fabric that is rolled up around the top of his arms. His shoulders are broad, and his shirt clings to his frame. It's until they look at his mouth, his plump, strawberry red lips, pulling up into a sadistic smirk, the skin besides the corner of his lips slightly showing off a shallow dimple. He doesn't look sorry.

His face was on every newspaper clipping, front page for almost 3 months. He wasn't really phased by the paparazzi and the townsfolk shouting abuse and throwing things at him when he stepped onto the sidewalk, snowflakes gently floating in the breeze and some falling delicately at his feet. His arms were tightly gripped in the hands of two police officers, skin slightly pinching between their fingers. He tries to ignore the anger that's flickering inside because they're moving so god damn fast, he can't even walk for himself. His eyes slowly move from the dark grey bricks at his feet, to the maybe couple hundred people congregating around his home. He tries to make eye contact with each and every person, his face painfully blank. The voices are muted to his ears though, because the sound of his heart hammering and the sound of his blood pulsing furiously throughout him fills his ears. He's snapped back to reality when the guards are trying to shove his body into the back of the all too familiar police car. His eyes flicker back to the paparazzi that are moving closer, cautiously. He flashes one last wicked smile, white teeth gleaming and eyes burning with fire before he's thrown head first into the back of the car. The back doors slammed shut and locked before he can sit himself up, the stench of smoke and fresh leather makes him want to gag, so he scrunches his nose up. He considers swearing at the officers that are already speeding away from the crowd, but he decides he'll save it for later. The officers wouldn't hesitate to attack, and they'd be ruthless and the boy wouldn't be able to defend himself, he's helpless, with his hands cuffed behind his back and all.

August 13th, 2011. A date that will never be forgotten for many years around Cheshire and residents of England.