Perspective

     In life, everything is a matter of perspective. To the fly, a spider is a murderer, from its clinking pincers to its web-weaving silk. But to the spider, killing the fly is a matter of survival. 

     And in a matter of life or death, people do crazy things. 

     To be honest, the day started off like any other. There was no sinister plan I devised, nor any prior hatred that lead up to the death of Walter Reeves, contrary to popular belief. People like to believe those that have the power to kill aren't human. They like to think that under similar circumstances, that they would choose differently, that they would choose better because they aren't "soulless creatures".  However, underneath it all, we're all just flesh and bone. Some of us are just more accepting of the truth than others.

     You see, like all good "villains" I have a semi-tragic backstory. Got bullied a lot during school, didn't live in a great area, got threatened at knife and gunpoint multiple times. And beginning of sophomore year, I moved to a nice area. I was finally starting to get my act together. Hanging around better people, getting better grades, having a better life for the most part.

     ... I'm boring you, I can tell. You know, for being a person who's reprimanding me for killing someone, you sure do want to know the violence of it all. So much for trying to get some sympathy.

     Alright. Anyway, so we had this partner project, and I got paired with the infamous Walter Reeves, our high school quarterback. When I got to his house to work on the project, he started making a move on me. I mean, hey, I'm pretty good looking, so who could blame him? When I said stop, he said okay, but I saw him reach for something in his pocket. I thought it was a knife or a gun. And in that instant I saw in him the epitome of everyone that's wronged me. All the guys who think they can treat me like trash and not give it a second thought. All the violence that's surrounded me since I was a child. All the people who picked on me because they thought I was a tiny little girl who wouldn't stand up for herself. Enough was enough.

     I acted without thinking, almost like I was having an out-of-body experience. I punched him twice before he could react, rendering him unconscious. I didn't check to see whether or not he was dead, though in hindsight, his nose did look quite a bit shorter and maybe he wasn't breathing, I don't know. So I checked his pocket and it turned out to be his phone. He unlocked it before I, you know, punched him. It was open to one of his jock buddies. Apparently they made some sort of bet if he could get with me or not.

     I sent a very... strongly worded text to his friend, to say the least, then threw his phone, probably breaking it.

     Then I put Walt into a chair - hey don't give me that skeptical look, I'm stronger than I seem - and tied him up. By then I kind of noticed, he wasn't looking very... lively. I dialed 911 and left, continuing on with my day.

     And you know what? I may be trapped in jail for the rest of my life, but for the first time, I actually feel free. Free of my old life, my old self, my old everything.

     So maybe I am insane like they all say, but I did what I had to do. It's just a matter of perspective.

     Is that what you wanted to hear, detective?