Introspectionmature

The police seemed to be taking their time. Then again, it was rather late. None-the-less, Kyle couldn't help but feel a little disappointed by their response time. You just couldn't rely on the police nowadays.

However, the delay before his inevitable arrest gave him the time to engage in a little introspection. Laying back in the chair so as to force it into a fully reclined position, Kyle chuckled at the similarity between it and what he imagined a psychiatrists couch to be like. A not entirely inappropriate analogy given the circumstances.

So, why had he done it? Lacey had been a nice enough girl, all blonde curls, long legs and beautiful blue eyes. She was good company too and had a mind of her own unlike the crowds of vapid, mindless women that seemed to inhabit everywhere he went. She was a real gem really, so pushing her through the window should have been all the more difficult a decision to make he supposed. The reason, he pondered, was perhaps that he was looking for something, a thrill, a lesson, an experience that couldn't be had any other way. As he figured, to merely kill someone was somewhat mundane. People had been killing each other for centuries, what made the difference was whom and why. He was sure that Lacey over the passing weeks had come to love him, or that at least the faint flutterings of the heart where there, waiting to take flight. In truth, he had felt something for her too and if this hadn't been preordained they could perhaps have continued their relationship. Oh well.

Returning to his line of thought, he reasoned that killing her had been to experience something. To kill someone, entirely unexpectedly, someone who cared for you and that you cared for, to take their life out of the blue. That kind of emotion, what was it? Betrayal? Shock? Awe? Something intangible and that was just within the eyes of Lacey, what of his own feelings, the sense of loss and power and fear. It was a potent cocktail and even though he lay here, relaxed and awaiting his fate, he could still feel the rush.

Of course, he supposed, only what society would term a crazy person would want to do such a thing, but Kyle didn't consider himself crazy. He was a seeker of experiences, nothing more. He didn't particularly want to hurt anyone, but unfortunately sometimes these things were inevitable. He expected he would be painted as a psycopath, a mad man that killed his lover for no reason, or perhaps the authorities would make up some motive or decide it had been a crime of passion, though no evidence of struggle would be found. Such was the way of things, people needed explanations, answers and some people couldn't palate the thought that someone could do things through pure force of will and determination rather than being influenced by passion in one form or another.

He was about to explore the possibility that perhaps he was testing the world around him, like a grand social experiment when the door slammed open. He had left it slightly ajar so the authorities wouldn't need to damage the hotels property, he'd already done enough with their window and no doubt now their reputation.

His neck craned back over the head of the recliner and several upside-down officers entered his field of vision.

"Hello officers, I suppose you'd like to ask me some questions."