Cassiel

"Angel of solitude and tears."

“Mother in heaven…” my voice was soft, husky and sounded tremendously numb. My spirit was there, hanging above my trembling body, but there was no connection whatsoever. A strange sensation ordered them to never detach. I wanted to detach, but that was not possible. Unlikely. Highly unlikely.

My knees hurt. Especially my left one. It had a deep scar, made when I fell out of my tree house as a young lad. It did not suit me. I despised things that were not right. There is no other way to describe it. It’s not equal, planned or meant to be.

“One’s skin is not made to be scarred.”

Then what was I doing right now? Was I a hypocrite for even considering this? Maybe. Okay, I was. Nevertheless, what I was planning needed to be done.

How should I explain this, this almost impossible thinking mechanism? How does one expect me to tell the end of a very long story without even mentioning the start?

So, I’m starting here, where it all began. The race for the exit. The most peculiar thing was that I voluntarily walked through the entrance of my cage. Strange. Weird. Insane.

You can now see my trembling body sitting behind a desk. I was hiding. Hiding behind my teacher’s desk, seated on the floor, making sure no one could even suspect me being in this very room.

I was looking at my notebook. I never planned before. This was extremely new to me. I needed to do this, though. If this wouldn’t be planned, everything would go wrong.

Last night, I had analyzed everything. I needed to get away with not getting away with murder. This meant that I needed to get caught and look really unstable. Not like your average killer who murders people as revenge, or those kinds of emotional drives. No, I needed to look really insane.

Which made me insane, right? I was fine with this. It was okay. I needed to get into a highly secured place, so that I could escape from it. I needed to perform my skill and feel alive once more. The adrenaline you get from escaping is incredibly eye-opening.

However, I escaped from every single imaginable place I could visualize. There was nothing that would give me that high again. Nothing but one place. Unit 13.

Unit 13 is not some place you can easily get sent to. It’s a place for level five dangerous criminals who are labeled mentally insane. It’s that secured, I have no information whatsoever. No info, impossible to get out and mentally unstable inmates.

A perfect place to escape from.

A tougher place to get in.

I couldn’t just grab a gun and kill a person. I would get sent to a normal prison, which would take me a day to get out. It was a waste of time and Unit 13 was my only chance to mess up my image. I was still a high school kid, just turned eighteen.

Unit 13 was something I would trade my life for. After I escaped, I could say goodbye to my life as I knew it.

To get into Unit 13, I needed a plan. I needed a profile.

Killing someone I knew would interfere with a lot of things. They would think I was angry, in love or they would dig up any other weird motive.

I didn’t need a motive.

The only thing they had to assume was that this person would be labeled as a sick sadist who lives to kill. Only then I had a chance to get into Unit 13.

Another thing, I needed to make myself popular. And with popular, I meant notorious. Every single person needed to know me, in order for me to make my amazing escape. They needed to know that I was untouchable and superior.

These are the big parameters to get caught and sent to Unit 13:

Kill a random person in the sickest way you can imagine and laugh it away.

It was time for me to get up. I inhaled deeply and looked around. This was not my school. I wouldn’t murder someone within a range