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Kevin the Bored

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2 Dreamer

After a few more hours of driving I am starting to get tired.

I've already eaten Mark, though I only had his arms and legs, since his organs started rotting and were yucky, and I since I don't know anything about body disposal, I just pulled over and threw what was left behind some trees.

To be perfectly honest, even I find it kind of strange just how quickly I've adapted to the thought of cannibalism. I mean, I never doubted that I would get used to it, especially since I don't really suffer from any moral afflictions for it.

As far as I am concerned, if eating people is what I gotta do then it's what I'll do. It's not like they matter anyway, after all, they aren't ð˜Ūð˜Ķ and really the only thing that should matter to anyone is ourselves because at least we know that we are real, you know?

But even then, I had thought it would take me at least a week before I could eat humans as casually as, say, a burrito.

However, after the first few tentative bites, I was already scarfing the rest down.

Maybe it's got something to do with just how tasty people are, because I swear I have never eaten anything even half as good.

Then again, maybe my body is making it taste extra good since it's the only thing I can eat.

Eh, it doesn't really matter.

What ð˜Ĩ𝘰ð˜Ķð˜ī however matter, is that I am sleepy and I am already a shit driver, having taught myself how only hours ago, without taking sleepiness into account.

Which is why I find myself pulling into some homestead's house in the middle of the night.

Ok, I don't actually know if it is the ð˜Ū𝘊ð˜Ĩð˜Ĩ𝘭ð˜Ķ of the night or not, just that it's dark out. No need to be so pedantic.

The house itself is nothing impressive, just a typical two floor house that you can find anywhere. Wait a minute, does the attic count as a floor?

Who knows.

As I pull into the drive at a speed that is probably too fast, I only barely avoid crashing into the blue pick up truck in front of the house by pulling the handbrake as I forgot which pedal was the stop one.

Luckily for me, the lights are all off.

Why is that lucky? Don't you want to ask to stay the night or something? I hear you ask.

Well, allow me to reiterate something, just in case you missed it.

𝘐. 𝘌ð˜Ēð˜ĩ. 𝘗ð˜Ķð˜°ð˜ąð˜­ð˜Ķ.

I have already resigned myself to living like the Slaughterhouse Nine, only with a lot less torture.

After all, it doesn't really matter what I want, not with the hand I've been dealt. People aren't exactly accepting of cannibals these days, who would have thunked it.

Then again, maybe I could live of off people who donate their bodies or even synthetic meat. It does seem to be an option, but it's one that relies on other people so ultimately it's not one I really want to take.

I think it's far more likely that I will simply be killed rather than helped, especially since I'm not even that strong so there really wouldn't be a reason to help me.

These thoughts play through my mind as I walk around the house, looking for any open windows and to my great joy I find one.

Unfortunately it's on the second floor but I don't think that should be a problem with my swanky new power.

Bending my knees, I put all of my strength into a straight jump and though I do barely make it high enough, I was too slow in grabbing the sill which resulted in me falling on my ass.

Ow.

Ok then, take two, electric boogaloo. With a metaphorical hop and a skip that is actually just one single jump, I remember to have my hands ready this time and barely reach the windowsill, leaving myself hanging by my fingertips.

Lifting myself up is enjoyably easy. Really, I've never been that athletic, so feeling so strong and nimble is still pretty awesome.

When I peek through the window, I am greeted by a rather bland room, but I guess that's what I get for living in Ohio.

I mostly ignore the sparse decorations, though I do notice the rather obnoxious Legend poster, ð˜ĩ𝘰𝘰 ð˜Ūð˜Ēð˜Ŋ𝘚 ð˜ģð˜Ē𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ģ𝘰ð˜ļð˜ī. Moving on from the unsubtle poster I look to the bed where a girl about my age is sleeping.

Taking care to be as quiet as possible, I pull myself into the room, thankful that I thought to wear loose pants instead of jeans or something that would make climbing into a maybe underaged girls room difficult.

Funny how life is, a month ago my biggest concern was whether I should eat breakfast or just sleep in and have brunch.

Speaking of brunch, my eyes trail to the poor, innocent girl who is probably enjoying her dreams about handsome gay men, I can only assume by the Legend poster, but maybe that's too assumptive of me.

As I get closer, I can better make out what the girl looks like, not that she's really much to see, brown hair down to her shoulders and a pretty average face with only a small amount of acne. Upon closer inspection, I was wrong about my initial assumption on her age. Rather than 19 like me, I's say she's closer to 16.

I don't know what her body looks like under the covers and honestly I don't really care, I'm not hungry right now.

So instead, I simply wrap my hands around her neck, gentle, like a lovers embrace, and then I ð˜īð˜ēð˜ķð˜Ķð˜Ķð˜ŧð˜Ķ and in a disgusting cracking pop, her neck is crushed underhand before she can so much as understand what is happening.

Somehow, I keep forgetting that I am kinda strong now, I thought that would be like, half a minute of thrashing around before she died.

Ah well, just makes things easier for me I guess.

Now to move onto the parents, or parent, who knows?

But as I turn to leave, my eye catches a full length mirror on the wall and I notice something distinctly new.

Most of me looks the same, a young woman with blonde hair down to my back, a pair of white ear studs in my ears and a face that could easily be called beautiful. Then again, maybe I'm just vain. I mean, it's not like I'm Alexandria, but I was offered a modelling opportunity once, not that I would ever willingly step into the shithole that is modelling.

However, instead of my normally pale green eyes, I am sporting a pair of eyes straight out of a horror movie. Honestly they're terrifying and I ð˜Ē𝘭𝘭 all for it. The iris itself is a startlingly bright crimson, shining like a pool of blood. Flowing away from the iris are small lines of red, like little streams separating from a lake of blood they flow over my now black sclera and leak out a little bit around the eyes like a spiderweb.

I'm not gonna sugar-coat it, I look fucking awesome. It almost makes up for the whole cannibalism thing. Ok, that's a lie, it's just hit me that I'm never going to be able to eat chocolate again, or drink coke, OH FUCK! I can't drink booze anymore!

Man, this sucks, ah well, no use complaining, I should go find out whether it's parent or parents.

Turns out it was singular, just some middle aged man who joined his daughter in having a broken neck, after which he joined her in her room as well, because I wanted the king sized bed he died on.

Now, time to get some shuteye, I should make it to a city by tomorrow, I assume.

Again, I don't really know where I am driving, but it would be nice to be in civilisation again.

After getting comfortable, I close my eyes and slowly drift off to sleep.

𝘛ð˜Đð˜Ķ ð˜Ĩ𝘰𝘰ð˜ģ ð˜°ð˜ąð˜Ķð˜Ŋð˜ī ð˜Ēð˜Ŋð˜Ĩ ð˜Ū𝘚 ð˜Ū𝘰ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ķð˜ģ ð˜ļð˜Ē𝘭𝘎ð˜ī 𝘊ð˜Ŋ. 𝘐 ð˜ĩð˜ģ𝘚 ð˜ĩ𝘰 ð˜Ļð˜ģð˜Ķð˜Ķð˜ĩ ð˜Đð˜Ķð˜ģ ð˜Ģð˜ķð˜ĩ ð˜Ŋ𝘰ð˜ĩð˜Đ𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ļ ð˜Ī𝘰ð˜Ūð˜Ķð˜ī 𝘰ð˜ķð˜ĩ.

𝘊𝘰ð˜Ŋ𝘧ð˜ķð˜īð˜Ķð˜Ĩ 𝘐 ð˜ĩð˜ģ𝘚 ð˜ĩ𝘰 ð˜Ļð˜Ķð˜ĩ ð˜Ī𝘭𝘰ð˜īð˜Ķð˜ģ 𝘰ð˜Ŋ𝘭𝘚 𝘧𝘰ð˜ģ 𝘊ð˜ĩ ð˜ĩ𝘰 𝘧ð˜Ķð˜Ķ𝘭 𝘭𝘊𝘎ð˜Ķ ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ķ ð˜Ē𝘊ð˜ģ ð˜Đð˜Ēð˜ī ð˜Ģð˜Ķð˜Ķð˜Ŋ ð˜ģð˜Ķð˜ąð˜­ð˜Ēð˜Īð˜Ķð˜Ĩ ð˜ļ𝘊ð˜ĩð˜Đ ð˜ī𝘚ð˜ģð˜ķð˜ą ð˜ļ𝘊ð˜ĩð˜Đ ð˜Đ𝘰ð˜ļ ð˜Ĩ𝘊𝘧𝘧𝘊ð˜Īð˜ķ𝘭ð˜ĩ 𝘊ð˜ĩ 𝘊ð˜ī ð˜ĩ𝘰 ð˜ĩð˜Ē𝘎ð˜Ķ ð˜Ē ð˜īð˜ĩð˜Ķð˜ą 𝘧𝘰ð˜ģð˜ļð˜Ēð˜ģð˜Ĩ.

"𝘊ð˜Ēð˜Ŋð˜Ŋ𝘊ð˜Ģð˜Ē𝘭𝘊ð˜īð˜Ū. 𝘙ð˜Ķð˜Ē𝘭𝘭𝘚?"

𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘎 ð˜Ēð˜ĩ ð˜Đð˜Ķð˜ģ 𝘊ð˜Ŋ ð˜īð˜Đ𝘰ð˜Ī𝘎, ð˜Ķ𝘷ð˜Ķð˜Ŋ 𝘊𝘧 𝘐 ð˜Ĩ𝘰ð˜Ŋ'ð˜ĩ ð˜ķð˜Ŋð˜Ĩð˜Ķð˜ģð˜īð˜ĩð˜Ēð˜Ŋð˜Ĩ ð˜ļð˜Đ𝘚 𝘐'ð˜Ū ð˜īð˜Đ𝘰ð˜Ī𝘎ð˜Ķð˜Ĩ.

"𝘐 ð˜Īð˜Ēð˜Ŋ'ð˜ĩ ð˜Ģð˜Ķ𝘭𝘊ð˜Ķ𝘷ð˜Ķ 𝘚𝘰ð˜ķ 𝘎𝘊𝘭𝘭ð˜Ķð˜Ĩ ð˜Ūð˜Ķ 𝘓ð˜ķð˜ī𝘊."

𝘚ð˜Īð˜ģð˜Ēð˜ĩð˜Īð˜Đ𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ļ ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ķ ð˜Ģð˜Ēð˜Ī𝘎 𝘰𝘧 ð˜Ū𝘚 ð˜Đð˜Ķð˜Ēð˜Ĩ 𝘐 ð˜ģð˜Ķð˜īð˜ąð˜°ð˜Ŋð˜Ĩ ð˜ļð˜Đ𝘊𝘭ð˜Ķ ð˜ī𝘊ð˜ĩð˜ĩ𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ļ ð˜Ĩ𝘰ð˜ļð˜Ŋ 𝘰ð˜Ŋ ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ķ ð˜Ī𝘰ð˜ķð˜Īð˜Đ ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ēð˜ĩ 𝘊ð˜ī ð˜Ŋ𝘰ð˜ļ ð˜Ģð˜Ķð˜Đ𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ĩ ð˜Ūð˜Ķ, "𝘌ð˜Đð˜Ķ, ð˜ī𝘰ð˜ģð˜ģ𝘚 'ð˜Ģ𝘰ð˜ķð˜ĩ ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ēð˜ĩ. 𝘐 ð˜ģð˜Ķð˜Ē𝘭𝘭𝘚 ð˜Ĩ𝘊ð˜Ĩð˜Ŋ'ð˜ĩ ð˜Ūð˜Ķð˜Ēð˜Ŋ ð˜ĩ𝘰, ð˜Ŧð˜ķð˜īð˜ĩ ð˜Ģ𝘭ð˜Ēð˜Ī𝘎ð˜Ķð˜Ĩ 𝘰ð˜ķð˜ĩ ð˜Ēð˜Ŋð˜Ĩ 𝘚𝘰ð˜ķ ð˜ļð˜Ķð˜ģð˜Ķ ð˜Ē𝘭ð˜ģð˜Ķð˜Ēð˜Ĩ𝘚 ð˜Đð˜Ē𝘭𝘧 ð˜Ķð˜Ēð˜ĩð˜Ķð˜Ŋ ð˜ļð˜Đð˜Ķð˜Ŋ 𝘐 ð˜Īð˜Ēð˜Ūð˜Ķ ð˜ĩ𝘰. 𝘚𝘰ð˜ģð˜ģ𝘚."

"𝘋𝘰ð˜Ŋ'ð˜ĩ 𝘚𝘰ð˜ķ 'ð˜Ķð˜Đð˜Ķ' ð˜Ūð˜Ķ 𝘚𝘰ð˜ķ 𝘭𝘊ð˜ĩð˜ĩ𝘭ð˜Ķ ð˜Ĩ𝘚𝘎ð˜Ķ. 𝘕𝘰ð˜ĩ 𝘰ð˜Ŋ𝘭𝘚 ð˜Ĩ𝘊ð˜Ĩ 𝘚𝘰ð˜ķ 𝘎𝘊𝘭𝘭 ð˜Ūð˜Ķ 𝘊ð˜Ŋ ð˜ļð˜Đð˜Ēð˜ĩ ð˜ļð˜Ēð˜ī ð˜ēð˜ķ𝘊ð˜ĩð˜Ķ 𝘭𝘊ð˜ĩð˜Ķð˜ģð˜Ē𝘭𝘭𝘚 ð˜Ē ð˜Ģ𝘭𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ĩ ð˜ģð˜Ēð˜Ļð˜Ķ, ð˜Ģð˜ķð˜ĩ ð˜Ē𝘧ð˜ĩð˜Ķð˜ģ ð˜Ī𝘰ð˜Ū𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ļ ð˜ĩ𝘰 𝘚𝘰ð˜ķ ð˜Ŧð˜ķð˜īð˜ĩ 𝘎ð˜Ķð˜ąð˜ĩ ð˜Ķð˜Ēð˜ĩ𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ļ ð˜Ūð˜Ķ, ð˜ļð˜Đð˜Ķð˜ģð˜Ķ 𝘊ð˜ī 𝘚𝘰ð˜ķð˜ģ ð˜ģð˜Ķð˜īð˜ąð˜Ķð˜Īð˜ĩ?"

𝘐 𝘧ð˜Ēð˜Īð˜Ķ ð˜Ū𝘚 ð˜Ū𝘰ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ķð˜ģð˜ī ð˜Đð˜Ēð˜ģð˜īð˜Đ ð˜Ļ𝘭ð˜Ēð˜ģð˜Ķ ð˜ļ𝘊ð˜ĩð˜Đ𝘰ð˜ķð˜ĩ ð˜ī𝘰 ð˜Ūð˜ķð˜Īð˜Đ ð˜Ēð˜ī 𝘧𝘭𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Īð˜Đ𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ļ, ð˜Ū𝘰ð˜īð˜ĩ𝘭𝘚 ð˜Īð˜ķð˜ŧ ð˜īð˜Đð˜Ķ 𝘊ð˜īð˜Ŋ'ð˜ĩ ð˜ģð˜Ķð˜Ē𝘭𝘭𝘚 ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ēð˜ĩ ð˜īð˜Īð˜Ēð˜ģ𝘚, ð˜Ēð˜Ŋð˜Ĩ ð˜īð˜Đð˜ģð˜ķð˜Ļ ð˜Ū𝘚 ð˜īð˜Đ𝘰ð˜ķ𝘭ð˜Ĩð˜Ķð˜ģð˜ī.  "𝘞ð˜Ēð˜īð˜ĩð˜Ķ ð˜Ŋ𝘰ð˜ĩ, ð˜ļð˜Ēð˜Ŋð˜ĩ ð˜Ŋ𝘰ð˜ĩ, ð˜ģ𝘊ð˜Ļð˜Đð˜ĩ?" 𝘐 ð˜ļð˜Ķð˜Ē𝘎𝘭𝘚 ð˜Ēð˜ī𝘎, ð˜Ūð˜Ē𝘎𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ļ ð˜Đð˜Ķð˜ģ ð˜ģð˜Ē𝘊ð˜īð˜Ķ ð˜Ēð˜Ŋ ð˜Ķ𝘚ð˜Ķð˜Ģð˜ģ𝘰ð˜ļ.

"𝘍ð˜Ē𝘊ð˜ģ ð˜Ķð˜Ŋ𝘰ð˜ķð˜Ļð˜Đ," ð˜īð˜Đð˜Ķ ð˜ī𝘊ð˜Ļð˜Đð˜ī, "𝘚𝘰ð˜ķ ð˜ģð˜Ķð˜Ē𝘭𝘭𝘚 ð˜Īð˜Ēð˜Ŋ'ð˜ĩ ð˜ĩð˜Ē𝘎ð˜Ķ ð˜Ēð˜Ŋ𝘚ð˜ĩð˜Đ𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ļ ð˜īð˜Ķð˜ģ𝘊𝘰ð˜ķð˜ī𝘭𝘚 ð˜Īð˜Ēð˜Ŋ 𝘚𝘰ð˜ķ."

𝘐 ð˜Ŧð˜ķð˜īð˜ĩ ð˜Ēð˜Ŋð˜īð˜ļð˜Ķð˜ģ ð˜ļ𝘊ð˜ĩð˜Đ ð˜Ē ð˜īð˜Ū𝘊𝘭ð˜Ķ ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ēð˜ĩ ð˜Ūð˜Ē𝘎ð˜Ķð˜ī ð˜Đð˜Ķð˜ģ ð˜ī𝘊ð˜Ļð˜Đ ð˜Ēð˜Ļð˜Ē𝘊ð˜Ŋ, ð˜Đð˜Ķð˜Ē𝘷𝘊ð˜Ķð˜ģ ð˜ĩð˜Đ𝘊ð˜ī ð˜ĩ𝘊ð˜Ūð˜Ķ.

"𝘞ð˜Ķ𝘭𝘭, 𝘐 ð˜ķð˜Ŋð˜Ĩð˜Ķð˜ģð˜īð˜ĩð˜Ēð˜Ŋð˜Ĩ ð˜Ŋ𝘰ð˜ĩ ð˜ļð˜Ēð˜Ŋð˜ĩ𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ļ ð˜ĩ𝘰 ð˜ļð˜Ēð˜īð˜ĩð˜Ķ ð˜Ū𝘚 ð˜Ģ𝘰ð˜Ĩ𝘚, 𝘐 ð˜ļð˜Ēð˜ī ð˜Ē𝘭ð˜ģð˜Ķð˜Ēð˜Ĩ𝘚 ð˜Ĩð˜Ķð˜Ēð˜Ĩ ð˜ī𝘰 𝘊ð˜ĩ'ð˜ī ð˜Ŋ𝘰ð˜ĩ 𝘭𝘊𝘎ð˜Ķ 𝘐 ð˜ļð˜Ēð˜ī ð˜ķð˜ī𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ļ 𝘊ð˜ĩ, ð˜Ģð˜ķð˜ĩ ð˜Ĩ𝘊ð˜Ĩ 𝘚𝘰ð˜ķ ð˜ģð˜Ķð˜Ē𝘭𝘭𝘚 ð˜Đð˜Ē𝘷ð˜Ķ ð˜ĩ𝘰 𝘎𝘊𝘭𝘭 ð˜Ēð˜Ŋ 𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ŋ𝘰ð˜Īð˜Ķð˜Ŋð˜ĩ 𝘧ð˜Ēð˜Ū𝘊𝘭𝘚?"

𝘛ð˜Đ𝘊ð˜ī ð˜ĩ𝘊ð˜Ūð˜Ķ 𝘐 ð˜Ĩ𝘰 𝘧𝘭𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Īð˜Đ ð˜ī𝘭𝘊ð˜Ļð˜Đð˜ĩ𝘭𝘚 ð˜Ēð˜ĩ ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ķ '𝘐'ð˜Ū ð˜Ŋ𝘰ð˜ĩ ð˜Ūð˜Ēð˜Ĩ, ð˜Ŧð˜ķð˜īð˜ĩ ð˜Ĩ𝘊ð˜īð˜Ēð˜ąð˜ąð˜°ð˜Šð˜Ŋð˜ĩð˜Ķð˜Ĩ' ð˜ĩ𝘰ð˜Ŋð˜Ķ ð˜īð˜Đð˜Ķ ð˜ķð˜īð˜Ķð˜ī.

"𝘞ð˜Đð˜Ēð˜ĩ? 𝘐 ð˜Ŋð˜Ķð˜Ķð˜Ĩð˜Ķð˜Ĩ ð˜ī𝘰ð˜Ūð˜Ķ ð˜ąð˜­ð˜Ēð˜Īð˜Ķ ð˜ĩ𝘰 ð˜ī𝘭ð˜Ķð˜Ķð˜ą ð˜Ēð˜Ŋð˜Ĩ 𝘊ð˜ĩ'ð˜ī ð˜Ŋ𝘰ð˜ĩ 𝘭𝘊𝘎ð˜Ķ 𝘐 ð˜Ī𝘰ð˜ķ𝘭ð˜Ĩ 𝘭ð˜Ķð˜ĩ ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ķð˜Ū ð˜īð˜Ķð˜Ķ ð˜Ū𝘚 𝘧ð˜Ēð˜Īð˜Ķ, ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ēð˜ĩ 𝘎𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ĩð˜Ē ð˜ģð˜ķð˜Ŋð˜ī ð˜Ī𝘰ð˜ķð˜Ŋð˜ĩð˜Ķð˜ģ ð˜ĩ𝘰 ð˜Ļ𝘰𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ļ 𝘰𝘧𝘧 ð˜Ļð˜ģ𝘊ð˜Ĩ." 𝘐 ð˜Ĩð˜Ķ𝘧ð˜Ķð˜Ŋð˜Ĩ.

"𝘖ð˜ģ, ð˜ąð˜Ķð˜ģð˜Đð˜Ēð˜ąð˜ī," ð˜Ū𝘚 ð˜Ū𝘰ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ķð˜ģ ð˜īð˜ĩð˜Ēð˜ģð˜ĩð˜ī ð˜ļ𝘊ð˜ĩð˜Đ ð˜Ē ð˜ĩ𝘰ð˜Ŋð˜Ķ ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ēð˜ĩ ð˜īð˜Ē𝘚ð˜ī ð˜īð˜Đð˜Ķ ð˜ĩð˜Đ𝘊ð˜Ŋ𝘎ð˜ī 𝘐'ð˜Ū ð˜ąð˜Ēð˜ģð˜ĩ𝘊ð˜Īð˜ķ𝘭ð˜Ēð˜ģ𝘭𝘚 ð˜īð˜ĩð˜ķð˜ąð˜Šð˜Ĩ, "𝘚𝘰ð˜ķ ð˜Ī𝘰ð˜ķ𝘭ð˜Ĩ ð˜Đð˜Ē𝘷ð˜Ķ ð˜Ŧð˜ķð˜īð˜ĩ ð˜ąð˜ķ𝘭𝘭ð˜Ķð˜Ĩ 𝘰𝘷ð˜Ķð˜ģ ð˜Ēð˜Ŋð˜Ĩ ð˜ī𝘭ð˜Ķð˜ąð˜ĩ 𝘊ð˜Ŋ ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ķ ð˜ĩð˜ģð˜ķð˜Ī𝘎?"

...𝘰ð˜Đ. 𝘞ð˜Đ𝘚 ð˜Ĩ𝘊ð˜Ĩð˜Ŋ'ð˜ĩ 𝘐 ð˜ĩð˜Đ𝘊ð˜Ŋ𝘎 ð˜Ēð˜Ģ𝘰ð˜ķð˜ĩ ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ēð˜ĩ? 𝘐 ð˜Ļð˜ķð˜Ķð˜īð˜ī 𝘐'ð˜Ū ð˜Ŧð˜ķð˜īð˜ĩ ð˜ķð˜īð˜Ķð˜Ĩ ð˜ĩ𝘰 ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ķ 𝘊ð˜Ĩð˜Ķð˜Ē 𝘰𝘧 'ð˜ī𝘭ð˜Ķð˜Ķð˜ą' ð˜Ēð˜Ŋð˜Ĩ 'ð˜Ģð˜Ķð˜Ĩ' ð˜Ģð˜Ķ𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ļ ð˜ī𝘚ð˜Ŋ𝘰ð˜Ŋ𝘚ð˜Ū𝘰ð˜ķð˜ī.

"𝘌ð˜Đð˜Ķ, ð˜°ð˜°ð˜ąð˜ī?"

"𝘠𝘰ð˜ķ'ð˜ģð˜Ķ ð˜Đð˜°ð˜ąð˜Ķ𝘭ð˜Ķð˜īð˜ī, 𝘚𝘰ð˜ķ 𝘎ð˜Ŋ𝘰ð˜ļ ð˜ĩð˜Đð˜Ēð˜ĩ? 𝘈ð˜ĩ 𝘭ð˜Ķð˜Ēð˜īð˜ĩ ð˜ąð˜ģð˜Ķð˜ĩð˜Ķð˜Ŋð˜Ĩ ð˜ĩ𝘰 𝘧ð˜Ķð˜Ķ𝘭 ð˜ī𝘰ð˜Ūð˜Ķ ð˜ģð˜Ķð˜Ū𝘰ð˜ģð˜īð˜Ķ. 𝘞ð˜Đð˜Ēð˜ĩð˜Ķ𝘷ð˜Ķð˜ģ, 𝘊ð˜ĩ'ð˜ī ð˜ĩ𝘊ð˜Ūð˜Ķ ð˜ĩ𝘰 ð˜Ļ𝘰."

𝘞ð˜Đð˜Ēð˜ĩ?

"𝘞ð˜Đð˜Ēð˜ĩ ð˜Ĩ𝘰 𝘚𝘰ð˜ķ ð˜Ūð˜Ķð˜Ēð˜Ŋ?"

𝘚ð˜ķð˜Ĩð˜Ĩð˜Ķð˜Ŋ𝘭𝘚 ð˜Đð˜Ķð˜ģ 𝘧ð˜Ēð˜Īð˜Ķ 𝘊ð˜ī ð˜ģ𝘊ð˜Ļð˜Đð˜ĩ 𝘊ð˜Ŋ 𝘧ð˜ģ𝘰ð˜Ŋð˜ĩ 𝘰𝘧 ð˜Ū𝘊ð˜Ŋð˜Ķ, ð˜Ū𝘰ð˜ķð˜ĩð˜Đ ð˜ļ𝘊ð˜Ĩð˜Ķ ð˜°ð˜ąð˜Ķð˜Ŋ ð˜Ēð˜ī ð˜īð˜Đð˜Ķ ð˜īð˜Īð˜ģð˜Ķð˜Ēð˜Ūð˜ī, "𝘞𝘈𝘒𝘌 𝘜𝘗!"

Jolting up with my heart pounding in my chest, I take a moment to gather my bearings before I recognise the room I'm in and recall what happened yesterday.

The dull covers slide down my bare body, so I like to sleep naked, fuck you, as I look out the window and the midday sun shining through it.

Guess I slept in.

Right, I should probably get going.

First things first I head to the girls room to look for some clothes, as I kinda, mighta got some blood on mine.

Now that I think about it, I should probably burn those clothes, and now that I think about that, I should probably do something about the bodies.

Well, I say that, but it's not like I'm a cop or something, I don't exactly know how to 'cover my tracks' as it were, so I'm just going to go with the idea that the less information available to find the less likely I'll get caught.

I mean, what could they know so far?

Me and my mom have disappeared, reasons unknown, and then a short time later another family pair goes missing, reasons once again unknown.

Most likely they will assume that we have both been kidnapped and presumably will be looking for the mysterious kidnapper in a few days at most.

All this means that I need to hide the bodies.

Eh, I'll just throw them in the truck and dump them behind some trees like the other guy.

Man, I am really lazy about this whole hiding evidence thing.

Ah well, I'm sure it'll be fine.


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