"For fucks sake!" yelled Gerard, beating his fists against the wall angrily. "Will you please turn your shitty ass pop music down for gods sake?!" He stood shivering, his covers lying strewn across the floor and his skeleton onesie not doing much to stop the cold from clawing at his skin. He lent his head against the wall and repeatedly hit it, hoping that the loud pulses of repetitive C-chords would be drowned out from the house next door. It was no use.

"Oi!" Gerard screamed in a final attempt, "Turn it fucking down now or I'll come over there and make you slit your own fucking throat!" Ah, that was it; he was feeling extremely irritable that day. He called it "being dehydrated" which was his way of saying that he needed to drink some more human blood as he was turning into a middle class moaning bitch who yelled at everything that may brush past them.

"Right! You know what? That's it! Play your fucking shitty empty music at almost 11 o clock at night, that’s fine by me! Its fine if I'm not around to hear it!" he yelled grabbing a jacket and slipping it over his skeleton onesie, now taking a beanie and slipping it onto his head. He rushed down the stairs of his house, holding his nose as he passed the spare bedroom so as not to smell his slowly decomposing friend. As he walked past the kitchen he picked up a few coins and slipped them into his pocket along with his house keys.

The air was surprisingly warm for a night in mid-January, a lot warmer than it was inside Gerard's house anyway and he soon found himself to have stopped shivering and for the first time in days he felt a little warmth creep up his spine. However being outside didn’t mask the fact that he could still hear his neighbours music blasting out of the upstairs bedroom. He glared at the figure who lay passed out on the downstairs sofa; unaware of his blaring music and unaware of the rock that Gerard had picked up from the side of the road and had hurled through his downstairs window. Glass shattered everywhere but still they 'slept' and still Gerard walked.

After 5 minutes Gerard still walked, passing a man laid in the middle of the road with a needle sticking at an odd angle from his body: face covered in blood from where he fell. Still Gerard walked. He passed a man shrouded in a black hoodie, eyes bloodshot and staring. Still Gerard walked. He passed a group of older men attacking a younger boy whose face lay pressed against the wall, the course bricks pricking blood from his face. Still Gerard walked.

He walked until he reached the edge of the estate. What was the time? 11:07. He had just enough time to get there. Last bus was at 11:15.

He leapt forward, using the most energy that he had in weeks, and sprinted down the main road: cars blaring as he crossed the road without a glance. Eventually he made it to the bus station his heart trying to break through his ribs. He rested his hands against his knees as he tried to calm himself down and sure enough the bus no. 453 pulled up outside the bus station.

Where the bus went to Gerard did not know, the most important thing was being out of the house and not murdering your own neighbour. (Just a little advise for you there.) He sat alone at the back of the bus resting his head against the cool glass watching as a huddle of houses whizzed past his eyes; the street slowly becoming darker until no street lamps watched from overhead. It was almost time, thought Gerard. The road now slimmed down to just one way, small stone walls rising up around the bus the only thing that separated the darkness of the fields to the darkness of the small country road.

After about another 15 minutes travelling down the same road he pulled himself up from his seat and zipped his jacket up around his neck so as to hide the bottom half of his face and he swept all of his long red hair back underneath his beanie before standing up and walking towards the front of the bus.
"You want to get of here, sir?" asked the bus driver looking rather confused.
Gerard nodded.
"Off out for an evening stroll?"
The red-haired killer did not reply and when the doors were opened he simply stepped off of the bus and walked off into the distance, merging with the darkness of the night.

---

The sun began to rise in front of Gerard, a deep umber colour lying close to the hills followed closely by fiery oranges and yellows which cast a little light upon his pale face. He shielded the sun from his eyes and that when he saw them. He had walked nearly all night walking off his anxieties and thoughts of the police finding Kaitlin's body, and he had not met a single person on his travels. He placed his black leather gloves back onto his hands.

"Hi…" Gerard smiled warmly, "Would you like any help there?" He walked to the side of the road where a young man stood over his bike which was 'passed out' on the floor. The small brown haired man jumped back as he heard Gerard's voice pierce through the silent air.
"Oh, sorry. I didn’t expect to see anyone out here in the middle of nowhere…." he looked at the man dressed in the skeleton onesie, a little surprised.
"You okay?" asked Gerard peering down at the bike from which a grubby chain was escaping.
"I'm good thanks," exclaimed the man, "Chain on the bikes gone and I just can't manage to fix it."
"Oh" Gerard replied, "Well I can help if you like…" he smiled again, ugh, it physically hurt his mind to be so kind to someone.
"Really?"
Gerard nodded.
"Thank you so much!"

Mr. hungry sociopathic killer knelt down next to the bike, not having a clue to as how one worked let alone how to fix a bike chain. He mumbled to himself as he picked the snapped end of the chain up and moved it from right to left.
"I see…." he whispered aloud.
"Yeah. I know. Not good it is!"
"Not good at all….." Gerard tilted his head to the side, "Well if you sit down next to me…." he stopped peering up at the young man in his cycling helmet.
The cyclist took the hint and replied quickly, "Andy Matthews. My name's Andy Matthews." "Well…" Gerard continued, "Well if you come here and sit down next to me Mr. Andy Matthews then I can show you how to fi-"


The cyclist immediately sat down next to him, not noticing that Gerard had constantly been checking their surroundings for people all the time that they had been talking.
"Good…well if you look here…" Gerard muttered, pointing towards the gears. Andy squinted and leaned forward so that he could take a closer look. The cold rusting bike chain was now hanging from Gerard's hands and he stood up; wrapping the chain around Andy's neck, squeezing it tighter with every shriek that escaped the cyclists blue lips.

"Oh, my belly is a rumbling!" sung Gerard happily as he doubled the chain up around his neck and dragged the gagging Andy towards his feet.
"Oh, yes! I think I'm a little peckish!" he laughed as the eyes of his victim began to flicker. The hand reached up towards the sky in desperation but Gerard only struck it back down again his foot.
"Mind if I take a drink?" he asked, sinking his teeth into Andy's neck and gulping down the blood that flowed from the open wound. He felt his taste buds awaken and smiled gently as the liquid slipped down his throat and into his stomach. He parted his lips from Andy's neck, checking around him viciously for any witnesses. Satisfied that there were none he continued:

"Hey, Andy. You're rather tasty. Mind if I?" he gestured to the other side of Andy's neck, "Please, one more bite won't hurt. I promise!" and with that he indulged himself further, ripping the flesh with his teeth, until every last trace of the blood had disappeared leaving only a trail of red raw skin around the cyclists neck.
"Thank you, Mr. Andy Matthews. It's been nice meeting you…." and with that Gerard left him strewn at the side of the country road in the middle of nowhere him being as broken as his bike. Gerard took the bike chain and when he reached a large swirling river he cast it into its depths, catching the bus 453 in the nearest town like nothing had happened.

---

He arrived home to find a letter shoved through his letter box. He took it from the envelope and flattened out the letter. He peered at the letters that lay in front of him on the letter.
Jury summons.
Oh for gods sake!
You have been selected for Jury service.
Honestly I don’t have time for this, Gerard thought to himself.
Your name was randomly selected from the electoral register.
That doesn't make it any better.
You must attend your Jury service at…..
Oh. Really? I have to go.
On the 19th of January.
Ah!
You will be required to attend court for the trial of Sebastian Carter and the murder of Kaitlin Jones.
Gerard glared at the letters. Murder of Kaitlin Jones.
"Oh fuck." he whispered to himself.

Notes

Hi. Honestly not sure what this is. Apologies is very weird; thanks for reading. :)
-Lou.