Kathleen panicked. This was not happening. No way, no how. The gash wasn’t there the day before. She had spent the whole night in Kenny‘s room like always, hadn’t she? Kathleen couldn’t remember. Pulling the covers up to her chin, Kathleen began to shiver.
Sanity. It is a novel idea; normal, the same. What is sanity, really? What qualifies one as insane? What is it that causes one to go what is considered insane? Is it possible that we are all really crazy, and those who we believe to be crazy are, in fact, sane? It is like asking if the sky is really blue. How do you even describe color to one who has never seen it? How do you describe what it’s like to be insane to one who is sane?
"Do you think there’ll be anymore?"
"Who did it?"
"Hey man, where were you last night?"
The entire school was buzzing over the news of the nurse’s death. Her face had been cup up; the skin on the edge of her mouth was cut open, then pulled back. Geometric figures had been carved on her face. If it had been done in paint, she would have resembled a clown. Investigators believed the killer of at least this woman was a male, a psychopath who got a sort of sick sexual pleasure from what he had done.
"I don’t get it. Why?" Wendy asked.
"It’s probably some psycho who thinks he’s really Don Quixote." Kyle started to crack his knuckles. Wendy flinched.
"Could you please not do that? It’s gross." Kyle continued until he was finished. A few moments later, Kenny started.
"Don Quixote. Isn’t he the guy that lead the Nazis?" Wendy and Kyle sighed.
"Cartman, Don Quixote is a fictional character who thought he was fighting monsters for the love of his life, when all he really saw were everyday objects. Hitler lead the Nazis." Wendy couldn’t take it anymore. "And could you possible stop that?!" She screamed over at Kenny, who was still cracking his knuckles.
"Do you think that murders are related?" Stan asked.
"Unlikely. There is no connection so far, and it was all males murdered up until now. The female was killed in a sickening fashion, and like the news said, the murderer was probably getting a sick sexual stimulation from it. If that is true, and all the murders are related, why did he kill the males first?" By now, Wendy had confused even Kyle. At that, the bell rang, and, as they did everyday, the children groaned and walked inside.
Kathleen had decided to come out from under the covers. She walked in to the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, Kathleen walked over to the mirror. Looking at her reflection, she rolled up her sleeve. There it was again. She reached over and touched it. She watched her reflection touch it, then pull its hand back. She had felt pain; it was real. There was still no memory of her receiving it. All the reasons went through her mind. Had she rolled over on something during the night? Unlikely, for Kathleen was a light sleeper and would have felt it. Had she been in an accident of some sort? She had heard that often people could not remember the time around the occurrence of an accident. Could that explain her memory lapse? She decided to try and forget it. Not that that would be hard to do; She already couldn't remember most of it.
Stewart lay on the family couch, obviously drunk. "Stewart, are their any waffles left?"
"No Kevin, sorry honey."
"It's Kathleen. I think I'll just go look for myself." Kathleen walked in to the kitchen. Just as Stewart had said, nothing. She sighed. The school gave Kenny lunch for free, so she had always simply taken food from him and the others for lunch. Hopefully, Kenny will use the two brain cells he has left and bring home some of the leftovers, Kathleen thought.
"This does not help at all!" Officer Truck slammed the case folder down on the table. He had loved being the main police officer of Middle park, but with the recent string of homicides in South Park (Along with South Park's only officer being Barbrady) Truck had been relocated to South Park until the case was solved. "There is no connection!" He was screaming to no one. The room was empty besides him. All his helpers had been left in Middle Park. He opened the file, and looked over the facts again:
Victim 1: Male, 48, single, Judge.
Victim 2: Male, 43, married, two children, lawyer
Victim 3: Male, 36, single, prison guard.
Victim 4: Male, 39, married, no children, prison guard
Victim 5: Female, 38, single, nurse.
There were no connections between the five. The prison guards were of course connected, they had been killed together. But still, that was all he could find. He still looked; He still found nothing. Of course, this was the only information he was given. Past criminal records, extended family, known friends. Non of this information had been given to him yet. Until he received it, he could make no connection, and the murderer would still be on the loose, wherever he was.
There was only one person she wanted to see. Stan. He was so perfect; cute, smart, funny, nice. A girl couldn't ask for more. Wendy Testaburger-Marsh. It sounded so perfect. But where was he? Wendy finally noticed him, standing over with Kyle.
"Hi Stan!"
"Uh, didn't I just talk to you a few minutes ago?"
"No."
"Oh, ok, hi." He sounded confused.
"What's the matter Stan?"
"Uh, nothing." There it was again. Wendy tried to think of what could've been wrong.
"Is Kath bothering you again?" That must've been it. Only she could do something t bother her Stan.
"But….your…"
"Wendy. Of course you know who I am Stan, you silly."
"Who are you and who stole your sanity?" That was Kyle. Just what was he babbling about?
"I'm Wendy, duh! You should know that Kyle! And no one stole my sanity. If anyone's sanity was stolen it was yours."
"Dude, calm down!" Was…did Stan just yell at her? No, he would never. Would he?
"Stan?"
"Well, at least she still knows who somebody is." Kyle and Stan laughed. Stan had laughed at her. How rude!
"Stan, I…I…" Wendy couldn't stand it, watching her Stan sit there doing nothing while Kyle made jokes about her. She started to cry, and ran off.
Stan stood, dumbfounded. He turned to Kyle, who seemed to be as confused as he was.
"Wasn't that just…?"
"Yeah. I'm prety sure."
All the time, a dark-haired girl stood to the side, watching the scene before her. She was as confused as the others. She grabbed the necklace her father had bought her as a present, and began to once again play with it, twisting the chain around her finger, then un-twisting it. She checked the nameplate. It still had the same name that it had when she first got it. Wendy.
To be continued…..