I AM HERE

Slipping away from a nuthouse? Easy as pie, NOT!

After every kill, every killer knows that it's important to get rid of all evidence of the deed. Luckily for me, I happen to sneak out of my room during nighttime and I found the storage room of the asylum. I also happened to pass by the orderly's changing room or something. I assumed it was that because of all the clothes that were lying around.

I found the clothes that I wore when I first came here. I got those and stashed them in the storage room where I plan to get rid of the weapon and evidence. I crept into the corridors that are rarely used by anybody. I used all of my senses to listen to if there are any signs that anyone has discovered the murder scene. I continued when I didn't hear anything.

I arrived at the storage room, unnoticed. I went inside and went to find a pail and some bleach. The shelves from the far end of the room were lined with everything needed in the asylum. From bleach to industrial cleaning solutions. Quite useful for erasing evidence. I took my old clothes from where I hid them and changed into my clothes consisting of navy blue trousers, a black long-sleeved sweater and a navy blue shirt with black boots. I tossed the blood-stained uniform into a bucket and filled it in bleach and mixed it all using one of the mops standing on the side. Making sure I wore gloves so no fingerprints are left.

I threw away the murder weapons in a trash bag and stuffed the clothes with them as well. I stuffed all of them inside one of the trash bins inside the room. I put on my black leather jacket, a baseball cap with the name of one of the local baseball teams, and thick semi-square glasses to finish the look. It is the most simple things that can make a person unrecognizable unless someone is that observant.

After changing my disguise, I checked if anyone is outside the door before going out. I strolled out like I had a purpose or a place I needed to be. While walking, I started to think of how this recent murder will hit the news. Without knowing who killed who, they would immediately think it's me. I'm known in this area not only for killing by using the most mundane things as weapons but also for leaving the scene with nothing to indicate that it was me who killed them. People just assumed it was me. Better for me and my work since because of them, I'm raking in cash.

I soon arrived at the reception area and signed the logbook. The lady at the reception looked at me with disdain. "Visiting hours ended half an hour ago."

I used my sugar sweet southern Louisiana voice and said, "Oh, I know sugar. I just delivered something to the head cook and she said that I can leave anytime I wanted."

That caught her attention. Nobody messes with the head cook in this place. She rules with an iron fist and always carries with her a ladle that is bigger than my palm. "Alright, just make sure it never happens again." I smiled at her and said, "Oh, no sugar. It won't happen anytime soon."

I left the reception and strolled out the doors. The night air was so crisp and clear after spending a week in a place that mostly smells of bleach. It was nice to be out and about instead of being stuffed inside a stuffy building. Ugh, I just got shivers thinking about spending another night there.

I lazily walked out of the gates and onto the gravel road that connects the building with the main road. After I put enough distance from the building that I won't seem suspicious, I started jogging to a nearby cafe to actually eat some food. All they serve at the asylum was moldy veggies with no meat and flavor.

I went inside and sat at the counter. By now, an alarm blared from the distance. Telling me that they found Evangeline's and the orderly's slowly cooling bodies. At least I'm outside the premises now. Plus, I removed all of my information from their mainframe. Everything about the patient whose name is June Doe and everything she claimed. I made sure I wiped all of it out before leaving.

I ordered a chocolate milkshake and one of the pies they have displayed on one of their cases. I stifled a silent moan just from the flavor of the pie, even though it is stale. I quickly finished my food, paid for it, and went outside. I walked to the shady parts of where I live. From where I walked through, you could see all sorts of people milling about the neighborhood. From the usual vagrants staying warm by lighting up a garbage can to the occasional drug junkies looking for someone to sell their commodities.

You could even see a few hookers looking for possible customers for the night. Some looked my way but when I gave them a steely glance, they turned around and looked for a customer in someone else. I continued on the path I am taking, did a couple of double-takes around different alleys to see if anyone is following me in the dead of night. And seeing as nobody is following me, I continued my journey.

From the shady parts, I'm now entering the more sophisticated parts of Louisiana. Where I'm headed is sandwiched in between the shady and sophisticated parts of Louisiana. It's a run-down diner that serves the best cajun food in all of these parts. For me, that is.

There is a neon sign of a crocodile with its mouth open and full of Cajun-style fried chicken dripping its juices out of its huge ass jaws. I went inside to see the usual vinyl seats and tables that lined up the back and front of the store. Big crocodile paw prints in colors blue and pink line up in the direction of the male and female restrooms, respectively.

Ah! The smell of all those spices still in the air, makes me want to stuff my face with several chicken wings. Yum!

And there, sitting behind the cash register is the man I owe my life to. Sipping his hourly dose of bitter black coffee while reading a copy of one of the Harry Potter book series.

"Why are you late, June?" He didn't even glance my way. I narrowed my eyes at him and tried to understand his expression, but alas! I learned the art of stoic facial expressions from him, why did I even bother?

"Well, I'm sorry Henry. I was trying to get away from all those crazies. They were making me crazy from all of their drooling, babbling, and gurgling day in and day out. Were you worried about me, Henry?" I gave him a playful smile.

"Who? Me? Why would I worry about you? You hungry, June?" He was worried. He immediately changed the subject. It's no use teasing Henry further. He'll only give you me the cold glare he uses whenever he gets pissed at me.

"Starving." He nodded at me and went to the back of the store where he cooked and prepared the food for all of our customers. I heard him frying up a new batch of fried chicken, thick-cut sweet potato fries, and tossing a simple potato salad. While he does that, I went to behind the counter and took a piece of blueberry muffin from the display case.

I started munching on the muffin. By the time I was done with it, everything Henry was cooking and preparing was done. He placed it in front of me and I happily inhaled the scent of the spices intermingling with each other. It automatically brings a smile to my face.

I started to dig in the food when Henry gave me a tall glass of cool cucumber lemonade with exactly three ice cubes. I like my numbers to be precise. I really love eating food, especially the ones served in this diner. I always asked Henry about the recipe for his fried chicken. I was always missing one ingredient. He wouldn't tell me what it is. I swear that I will get the secret ingredient from him.

"So, Henry, when are you going to tell me the secret ingredient of your famous fried chicken?" He raised his eyebrows at my question. "Never. When are you going to give up?"

"Never." I countered. "Then we are at a stalemate, girl. Now finish your food." I just gave him a saccharine smile and continued eating my food until there is nothing left on my plate and my glass. It seems that Henry has been waiting for me to finish eating before he drops a bomb on me.

"Okay, spill. What is bugging you? Nothing can bug you like this. Is it school? I'm graduating in a few days, Henry. Keep everything in your pants. I won't get caught anyway. You taught me everything I know."

"June, what did I say about arrogance?" I rolled my eyes at his question. "It gets us killed if it goes to my head. I know, Henry. Sorry, can't help it. What's wrong?"

"They're getting curious about you, June."

I just stared at him, confused. Who's getting curious?

"Chase Williams." He answered my untold question. Guessed he read my expression. Chase Williams. The one who runs the whole show here in Louisiana. He has his hand in every business here, whether it is legal or illegal, he's in as long as it lets him rake in tons of cash. And he's the one who ordered to have me and my parents killed. By who? I'll never know. I just want him dead. But circumstances, as it is, I can't touch a single hair on his head.

He has security that rival that of any royal family in the world. Plus, he rarely does any job or meetings out in public. They're all being done in closed rooms, so chances of getting a bullet through his head without getting noticed are very slim.

I had to ask Henry why he is getting curious about me. I hid my tracks when I was twelve pretty decently if I should say so myself. I changed my name, changed my background, wore colored contacts all the time, and made myself into a wallflower all my teenage life. Doing nothing so that I won't gain any attention from anybody. I wasn't even able to defend myself from bullies when I was in high school.

"Why would he get curious about me? I've been hiding my tracks since I was twelve. What did I do to gain his undivided attention?" I ask him with the curiosity of a cat. That's one of the things I picked up from him. Always be curious. Always question. Always have back up plans to your back up plans.

"You've gotten into Harvard, June. That's what got his attention. Usually, nobody gets into Harvard without his help, you know that. You got his attention when he received word that you were accepted there without his help." I slowly digested what Henry just said to me. I was accepted at Harvard. My eyes turned bug-eyed from the shock of the news. I can't believe it. I got in. But, wait. That's the reason why I got his attention?

"What the heck? Is that enough of a reason to be curious about me? Maybe he's curious how I got in without his recommendation? But why didn't I hear this?"

"You were in the asylum, remember? The letter arrived on the day you were thrown there." I really shouldn't have done that stupid stunt that day and waited for my acceptance letter.

"But how did he know? Did a little birdie tell him?" He just stared at me. Of course, someone from the post office told him. He has men everywhere. It would be trouble if he starts digging into my background after the Harvard s**t. I need to make a plan of action for this.

"You're already thinking of a plan?" He asked me, but before I could answer him, he continues speaking. "Good, because I've already prepared one for you." Well, that saves me time.