Clay People

I knew it was only my fault. I knew it was morally wrong. But I also knew, that it felt so right. Watching the air escape his lungs made me feel as if I could finally breathe again. He was gone. It was over. It felt too surreal. Could it really be? All my troubles diminished, just like that?

I, Adrienne Raven Shapiro, had become a murderer. I still felt like the old goodie two shoes that I was. Nothing had changed. Well, except for the fact that I was officially a criminal. All I did was accomplish what the police never could. I executed a man they never would have caught. To be not-so-humble, I did them an award-worthy favor.

But that surely wasn’t how they would see it. I was called an idiot, a retard, degenerate, along with many other unkind names. I was nothing close to such. I knew I had to cover up my tracks and keep this brute’s death covert for as long as possible. My father wasn’t likely to notice my absence, so I had all the time of the remaining weekend on my hands. I observed the cold body lying at my feet. What had I done? I acted irrationally, killed him with an impulse. My breathing grew heavier as I was still letting it all sink in. I knew my father would have been so proud. I didn’t care for making that man proud anymore. I didn’t want him to know I had stooped to his level. I really was his daughter. The dead, wide blue eyes stared up at me. There was something capturing about them, something that silently screamed like ocean waves, pulling you in until it was too late and the next thing you knew, you were drowning. As blue as they were, they resembled darkness. The longer I looked, the more unsafe I felt. Ironic, considering I was the murderer in these woods. We had to be close by his cabin, but I couldn’t deposit him there because I wasn’t sure of there being surveillance cameras or not. Rich drug lords took their security seriously. Hernandez Alvarez apparently didn’t have the best security, considering I, an inexperienced teenager, had caught him off guard on his weekend vacay at the cabin.

Hernandez was a sick and twisted nazi. He killed my mother. The bigger issue was, she wasn’t the Jewish one in my family. I was. And I knew the battle was yet waged. Hernandez had a nazi son I had heard of, supposedly worse than him. Damien Alvarez. He had a second son, and possibly a daughter to my knowledge, one not so much heard of.

But there were no plot holes in my plan. I had gotten my revenge when Hernandez stepped out of his car to meet what he thought was an escort (to put it politely) with a business wager, all alone, in the woods near his cabin - all with still some daylight to spare. Now what was I to do with the body? I could have simply left him there, yes, but that would cause for him to be found and an investigation to take place. Plus, I believed that no matter how horrible a being, everyone deserved a proper burial. I wasn’t much for religion, but after stuffing him in his own trunk next to some bags of cocaine and a pail of gasoline, I took his car for a joyride, admiring all the pretty cabins on the lakeside and decided maybe I should say a few words over my killing. I opened my mouth to start and quickly shut it. If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Silence. It was nice. For my world to for once be quiet enough for me to enjoy the chirping of the birds outside and the sounds of the crashing waves. I drove the jeep into the woods as far as I could, grazing over trees that I’m sure scratched its sleek black paint. Coming to a slow halt when it seemed the wheels could barely turn in this mud, I hopped out of the car, shutting the door. I needed to finish this quietly and get the hell out. I pulled out his large body, dragging him with care and then realizing he was dead and it didn’t matter if I broke or bent him. Branches snapped under his weight and scraped at his skin and smushed face as I dragged him across the muddy terrace with what seemed to be all my strength. I tried not to be too amused. I didn’t have a shovel, but the ground was relatively muddy and easy to move. I guess there still wouldn’t be much more of a likelihood of him being found here if he were only a couple inches underground.

Laying his heavy body out on the ground, I thought I could just leave him there, not bother to bury him in an area that wasn’t likely to be venued for quite a while. A shame, really. The sun was beginning to set across the lake, and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. For once, everything felt right in the world. I had gotten my revenge on my mother’s murderer; a infamous criminal. I did what she would have wanted me to do. I think. And for the first time in a lifetime, I had the chance to appreciate the setting sun. For once, it didn’t resemble a life full of darkness, for once, it calmed me. I can’t describe how anxious I felt in the whole scheme. Killing someone, someone much deserving, yes, but nonetheless, ridding of the old me that I used to be. The girl who couldn’t hurt a fly if her life depended on it, she just killed someone, because she wanted to. I felt a mix of emotions rushing through me every second. Anxiety, relief, captivity, freeness, caring, carelessness. My mind and heart kept fighting with me on whether this was all so wrong or all so right. But whatever the truth, it was too late - the damage had been done. By murdering someone, I saved thousands that were to be murdered in the future. I didn’t know whether to be proud or disappointed with myself.

I crouched down onto my ankles, keeping my eyes on the setting sun. It looked so serene, calm - yet so fiery. It’s something you want to touch or stare at, regardless of the knowledge of how bad it is for you. I started digging my hands into the soft mud. I hadn’t done so since I was a kid. The dirt seeped into my fingernails as I continued digging, caking my forearms in mud. It didn’t disgust me, I was a girl who didn’t mind getting her hands dirty. What did disgust me, was how I had gotten my hands dirty with blood just over an hour ago. I was disgusted with myself and my actions, yet at the same time, happy. I wasn’t as weak as everyone seemed to deem me. But I couldn’t settle my emotions, so I decided what I was going to feel towards this situation, towards death; indifference. If I was indifferent to everything, nothing could hurt me any longer. I just wanted to not care.

It took me about half an hour to successfully dig a hole large enough for Hernandez’s body. Only to realize, I was an idiot who could have burned his body as a much simpler, and efficient way of covering up the evidence. But since I had gone through all the work, I might as well let his body rest in one piece. I still had fingerprints to cover up. I took the gasoline from Alvarez’s trunk, pouring it onto the driver’s seat, door, and trunk handle. I pulled out the matchbox my father had taught me to carry around in case of an emergency. I never thought his advice would one day be helpful, but there I was, lighting a rival’s car on fire.

I glanced at the body one last time, deciding it was best to say nothing as his dead ears obviously couldn’t hear me, and as I made my way out of the woods as quickly as possible, I wondered what my mother would think of me in that moment. I wondered if I had done the right thing. I ran until I came to a clearing, which, if I’m to be honest, was only about ten feet away. I turned to see the sun setting on my right, illuminizing the water.

“Hello?” A deep voice called out. Crap. My eyes met a pair of green ones, eyeing me quizzically. “Hi, I um, I was going for a walk. The scenery here is incredible, isn’t it?” I was making small talk. Really, Ade? He seemed to nod off whatever creepy feeling he got from seeing a mud-caked girl emerge from the woods next to his yard. A perfectly white smile spread across his face. “Yeah, it really is. Not enough people appreciate the beauty of the living things surrounding us.” His gaze bored into mine. I gulped, not knowing what to say. He looked young; seventeen or eighteen. I studied his features. He was one of those hot guys who got almost any girl they wanted, so I realized he probably assumed I was hitting on him. I felt my cheeks flush a little. “Hey, do you… do you smell that?” Confusion crossed his face. My eyes widened. He could smell the smoke from the burning car. I should have left. I should have been on the run back into town and on a train back home by then. But I wasn’t. I was standing before a gorgeous guy, on a gorgeous lake, in front of an eerie woods with a fire and a dead body, practically screaming ‘guilty.’ “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Did you start a fire?” He almost looked amused. “No. There’s no fire and there’s no smell of smoke. You’re delusional,” I reasoned, just as a loud noise of an eruption came from behind me. It sounded like the car engine.

He opened his mouth to speak and gestured to the large smoke cloud and now visible flame. My eyes were the size of saucers as I looked back to the guy with furrowed brows, and bolted.

I ran until my legs gave way, making sure he hadn’t been following me. My breaths grew jagged and my sides ached. When the woods and cabin were no longer in sight, I leant on my knees and breathed in and out, in and out, my gaze on the ground. After about a humiliating minute of panting, I looked up to realize that I had no idea where I was. A large building stood next to me, about a hundred meters away, but with it’s enormity, it felt closer. It looked abandoned, depressing. There was a torn down sign placed in the dead grass that read; For Sale. Everything about the building looked old and faded, except for the door. The entrance looked brand new, with sleek, black double doors. I eyed it quizzically, scanning my surroundings to see there were a couple vans parked in the parking lot of the abandoned building. There was something off about this place.

Somehow, I had left my state of shock and grew curious. I stepped off the gravel road and into the filtering grass, making my way towards the odd building. What the hell am I doing?