The Dead Boy

Date: May 26
-Gas Station
-Ladies' restroom ren...renavashun? 
--It was a mess, not the kind related to his death, though...
-Men's restroom ~young boy dead
-Killed somewhere else because there's no blood on the floor or in the stall
-Clothes were oversized and clean
-Head was cleanly cut but barely attached

She sat mulling over any extra detail she may have noticed. She didn't know the time she found it or how old the blood was. It wasn't fresh because it wasn't dripping, but it wasn't quite that old...?
"Mom, what time was it when I found the body?"
"Hmmm...we had lunch a bit late at around two and was on the road...I would say no longer than an hour..."
"What about when dad almost ran over that fox?"
"I looked at you, not the time...Oh! But I remember looking at my watch when I stood in line to pay for gas. It was about 3-5 minutes when I took you inside so around 3:20 or so."
"Thanks mom!"
"Sure, honey."
"He didn't die there."
"Why do you say that?"
"There wasn't much blood even though the wound was so deep."
"Come to think of it, you're right. Did you write down his features?"
"Oh! I forgot ~ thanks mom!"

She remembered that he had stunning hazel eyes; she wondered who the killer was, that he saw his killer, she wished he could tell her. He had the most beautiful chestnut skin for which she was almost jealous of its unblemishes. Now having created a word, she also remembers that his hair was peppered with white -to be young and have what she calls "old man" hair must've been quite the hard life for him...unless it was genetic in which case she wondered how he would've looked had he lived to his twenties...
She once read that murderers are most likely loved ones, or those you know...or was that for sex offenders...regardless, she went on to write:

-Hazel eyes
-Chestnut skin
-Black hair with old man colors (*she giggled despite the gravity of the situation)
-Maybe 8-11 years old...? Hard to tell when boys don't really grow until later...
-Closed mouth

Wait, was his mouth closed because it was forced shut in some way (like sewn or wired)? Not that it should've been open but something struck her as strange about his mouth and even the way he was positioned: re-dressed and sitting up (well, slumped over a little, thanks gravity) against the toilet...that was kind of respectful...? But considering it was in a bathroom at a gas station in the middle of nowhere, to crap an expression, that was the least amount of respect afforded to him in his death. What else was she missing here? She couldn't think of any further details, besides, thinking with such might left her a bit dizzy.
"Dad, can you roll down the windows a little? I'm getting a headache."
"Sure thing." he said rather cheerfully although it was dark and the wind was a bit strong and quite chill. They would've normally arrived at a hotel by now but she had a feeling he wanted to put as much distance between that scene and themselves as possible. She didn't realize that much time had passed, actually. So much for her powers of observation. She chuckled silently at her admonition of herself. Becoming serious again, she couldn't imagine the levels of pain he must've felt, although her own neck was trying --at least it seemed like it wasn't hacked through with a razor blade ~oh geez the thought made her cold all over. Or...was it rushed? Was that why his neck was still connected?! Child sacrifices are so weird (but then again, so is the idea of sacrifice), she thought, then wondered what made her think it was a sacrifice...well...why not? He was given a modicum of decency in death...and...well, there were no strange symbols or anything nearby, however. But if it somehow was, maybe she didn't want to be involved after all, especially if it's something cult-ish. But...she couldn't un-see what she saw, he was crying out for help, she couldn't just ignore him...even if she wanted to. Chastising herself for her imaginative conclusions, she also tried to think of any other stories she might have read that had anything to do with severed heads and then wondered why would she? She reads a lot and reads varying topics, sure but torture, sacrifices and anything cult related was never wouldn't hurt to cover all bases, but still, there's something creepy about the dark arts.

She didn't realize until she heard the familiar tune that her mom had turned on the radio to catch the late night news. It must be 11 now then. She began to focus on the present as her ears strained to catch anything about the boy...even though she knew it was still too early for any kind of relevant reports -and even though she knew that things like that were usually reserved for the 1 o'clock news.
As she suspected. Nothing. She sighed despite herself. Misconstruing it for disappointment, her mother says in a reassuring tone,
"There will be news about him, and they'll find who did it." They all knew that to be a lie. How many people cared about the plight of people like them? No matter how "normal" they tried to be, there's no room in the world for posers, or rather, for people believed to be marked by "it". Perhaps because of its unusualness it would be reported or in the very least, investigated.

The End

0 comments about this story Feed