Murder Confession #01

Dear the eager and prosperous students who take their first steps on university soil,

Your gleaming eyes and visible sense of wonder continues to intrigue me as I watch you drift around in search for a comfort zone. It was only this time last year when I first entered the university scene in the same fashion. My backpack was strapped firmly to support the burden of new textbooks; my hands sat passively in my pockets and only revealed themselves to readjust my glasses or hold a coffee. Usual glances from passing young women gave me slight confidence in my stride as I proceeded from class to class.

It was my third lesson of the day that I met her. I noticed her as I walked in. She had simple hair and simple eyes. She impatiently fiddled with her pen and appeared to have arrived early. She readjusted her posture as the room filled and people began to sit at her table. She was adorable and she dressed humbly. She asked intelligent questions in class and sat quietly when other people spoke. She appeared the quintessential student. How annoying.

I immediately hated how I couldn’t remove my interest of her. She was so basic yet captivating. There was something about her simplicity that irked me and drew me simultaneously and I often found myself ogling her. She caught my eye on occasions but instead of withdrawing in disgust, she politely smiled and turned away, which only enflamed my desire for her.

It was when the tutor allocated people into groups for the first assignment that my emotions escalated. She sat next to me so close that she almost brushed against my arm. I loathed her distracting beauty and yet I wanted it. I refused her my spare pen when she was without one. I disagreed with her rational arguments and made an effort to publicly prove her wrong. In the time frame it took her to go to the bathroom and back, I managed to rummage though her bag and eat her entire lunch. I was so full I later threw mine away.

Yet, she still warmed to me and involved me in discussions, asking me for advice as well as offering me advice of her own. She handed me her email address on a piece of paper so I could contact her. At one stage she laughed at one of my jokes and placed her hand upon my arm. It was then I lost all pure thoughts and I knew something had to be done about this wretched godsend.

It was not difficult to get us alone together. A simple email explaining the details of a mandatory group meeting was all that was required. The brutality that followed took her very much by surprise. I began by charming her into a false sense of security so all her guards were down. I brought chips to share and started conversations that were off topic from the assignment. She thought it was cute when I pushed my glasses back firmly on the bridge of my nose and she easily giggled at my witty and not so witty comments. After she had her last chip, her third after she claimed she would only have one more, I suggested we go for a walk and she agreed.

We only walked a short distance before I had my hands tightly wrapped around her throat. It was her whistling, a calming tune, and the first I had ever heard; it struck a nerve I cannot explain and my patience ran thin. Her eyes shot wide in panic and I could see the millions of questions overloading her mind and clogging her intuition. Her arms flapped about as though it received muffled signals from her brain. She could only stare at me with the dark holes of her eyes that silently screamed the question ‘Why?’

In only two weeks the class had come to the conclusion that she had dropped out of the course. The tutor was surprised, as he thought of how she participated in class, but week-by-week with student attendances trickling down it became more likely. One student thought she left university completely as she was nowhere to be seen. But I could see her, sitting across the room from me, resting on her hand with her angel wings drooping across her shoulders. She stared at me, disturbed but calm, as though patiently waiting for me to answer all her questions.

So, I write to you my confession as well as a welcome to university. Take of it what you will. Society will blame me for my callous actions and some will hold society responsible. I can’t help but place some blame on the mandatory group work; was that not to occur, she would have never met her demise.

Yours Sincerely,

Jonathan Richards

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