The Murder

It was a snowy night. A very cliche snowy night. The wind was howling, and in the little cabin, it felt like it came right out of a storybook.

"Looks like we'll be stuck here for a while," I said bitterly, turning to face my friend. "At least until the snow dies down." Roger was an odd sort of person. Most people were slightly afraid of him, and that was due to his intense addiction to anything related to crime. Mystery shows, Agatha Christie novels, serial killers, he loved it all. I still felt a little light-headed when he talked about some of the things he read.

"And, from the look of things," Roger responded, an intrigued look on his face. "That will be a long time." I'd like to say the idea of being snowed in was just as exciting to me, but that wouldn't be the truth. For one thing, I hate snow. And another, this wasn't really the best place to be snowed in. Roger and I had been on a trip to the Colorado Rockies in a small cabin. It was a beautiful place, in the middle of the woods with a crystal-clear lake right by. Of course, we get stuck on the night we're supposed to fly out.

"What do you want to do?" I asked, swirling my spoon in a cup of tea. "And not another horror movie. We've had enough of those." Roger looked slightly disappointed but luckily didn't insist on it. I don't know if my nerves could've handled it, especially tonight.

"Well," He looked out the window where a cloud drifted across the sky to block the moon. "I'm in the middle of a book..." I rolled my eyes. Roger could live happily for some time if he had enough of his books. I don't even think he would need food. He practically lived off of suspense already.

"No, Roger," I said. "You know me, I get jittery. Let's see what's on TV." I picked up the remote and turned the TV on. One of those old black and white movies was playing. Arsenic and Old Lace, I think it was called. I switched the channel. Before I could see what was playing, the screen flickered and shut off. The lights above us did the same, and all I could see was Roger's eyes, eerie in the sudden dark.

"Great." I moaned. "Power's out." Roger turned on the fire, and I lit a few candles. If I'd been nervous before, the dim, flickering light of the fire certainly didn't help matters.

"How exciting," Roger said with a laugh. He closed his book and set it aside. "Would you join me for a game of chess?"

"There're not many other options," I replied, sitting across from him at the table. "Besides, I always win at chess." With a skeptical look, Roger pulled on his glasses and began setting up his pieces. I did the same.

"You go first," I said, and Roger moved a pawn forward. The game went on pretty smoothly, considering the circumstances until the door flew open and a blast of cold air hit us.

"Goodness!" Roger shouted, jumping up from his seat. He grabbed the door and pushed it shut. "Will you lock it?" I ran to the door, grabbing the key, and locked it shut. The small bit of snow that had been blown into the room was already melting. After making sure all the windows were locked, Roger and I went back to our chess game. He moved a piece, and I looked down to see that his side of the board was mirrored to mine.

"What are you doing?" I asked, and he lifted his eyebrows, sipping his tea.

"What do you mean? It's a strategy." I shook my head but decided not to argue. I pushed my glasses up and looked at the board. Roger had a clear move to take my queen. I guess it was a strategy. I looked at him, hoping he wouldn't see it. He moved a different piece. Thank goodness. I moved my queen out of danger and we continued with the game.

"Actually, most serial killers follow a similar pattern." Roger continued. I put my hands on the table.

"Please, Roger," I said. "No murder talk right now." He ignored me.

"Coping the exact daily routine of their victims gives them something in common with them, and that usually gets rid of suspicion." He took a sip of tea.

"Fascinating," I said sarcastically. "I really wanted to know that." Roger didn't have a very good understanding of sarcasm. He was sort of like a computer, only understanding logic. Except for his mediocre chess skills.

"I'm glad." He responded. For some reason, that really got on my nerves.

"Do you know anything about me?" I asked him, albeit a little harshly. He looked up, his eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"What?" I stood up, my fists clenching and unclenching like they did when I was nervous. Roger stood up too.

"You know I don't like that kind of stuff. Yet you keep saying it!" Roger clenched his fist.

"We don't need to start fighting. We've been fine this whole time." My anger surged at his monotone, calm tone. I stepped across the table to stand closer to him. He met me halfway.

“We’ve been fine this whole time?” I shouted. “Roger you’ve been fine this whole time. Have I? Have we done anything that I wanted?” Roger opened his mouth and shut it, looking like a fish. I laughed at him. 

“See?” Gaining his composure, Roger tugged on the bottom of his shirt. 

“I recall having done many things you’ve enjoyed.” 

“Like what?” I crossed my arms and leaned back. Roger did the same. He started to respond, but I didn’t give him time. “Exactly! It’s always about what you want! Never what I want.” Roger’s expression changed dangerously. His sweet and unassuming eyes morphed into something more… sinister. 

“This has always been about you. Everything I’ve done was for you. You wanted me, you got me. So here I am.” Losing all my cool, I lunged forward and slammed my fist into Roger’s face. Glass shattered. Breathing heavily, I looked into the mirror at Roger’s bruised face. 

“I guess this is it, then.”