January 18th. The day when it all came together.
Part of me couldn't believe what I was about to do, and I hated myself for it. I was actually planning to take away someone's life, just because she made feel...I don't know. Strange.
But part of me, the bloodthirsty part that was controlled by emotions and impulses, leapt at the thought of blood, spilling all around, the warm, salty tang, the metallic taste. That was the part that was in control that day.
The day dawned bright, a beautiful, picturesque January morning. I hadn't slept at all that night. My mind was too busy, plotting.
I got up early and went to my closet, pulling open the door. The rusty hinges squeaked, and I cringed, hoping no one would hear. Slowly, carefully, I reached up and pulled a cloth-covered box off the shelf. My heart was poundung in my throat as I unwrapped it. There. The sun glinted off its silver blade, the edges sharp and threatening. The dagger I had been given for my fifteenth birthday.
Carefully I tucked it into my belt. Its sharp, cool blade pressed into my skin, and I shivered. For an instant, my mind reeled, shouting, What am I doing? But then I was back in control.
I went down the stairs quietly, hoping to slip away before my mother saw. But there she was, in the kitchen, just sitting.
"Morning, Ethan," she said with a slight smile that didn't quite reach her tired eyes. "Good night's sleep?"
"Fine," I lied easily, with a charming smile. "How about you? You look tired."
Her eyes drifted toward the window. "Oh, you know I don't sleep well since- well." She closed her eyes. "Just be careful today, okay? I love you."
My heart twisted inside of me, but I didn't let it show on my face. Instead I kissed her careworn cheek. "Love you. Bye."
I was free. Now I would lie in wait, like the common killer I was about to become.