The Day Gilbert Scratched the Itch
This story begins and ends with a large, and very tired looking man called Officer Morgan. Officer Morgan slides into the chair across me, exhausted, and wanting to go home  after a long day. “I guess you better start from the beginning then Mr. Gilbert,” says Officer Morgan as he loosens his tie. “Why did you kill Rita Lawrence?”.
“Well, Officer, I suppose I should tell you a bit about myself first, otherwise I am afraid that today’s events won’t make very much sense.”
Officer Morgan sighs and jerks his head toward the door, signaling Officer Berry to go get him a coffee, and tells me to get on with it. “Well,” I begin, “I am twenty eight years old and I have nothing to live for. I have no passions or experiences worth sharing, and I have no friends. The only real personality traits I have are that I am very habitual and easily distracted.”
At this point I can tell that I’ve described myself rather accurately because Officer Morgan doesn’t look very interested. I continue, “My distractedness is derived from a constant pins- and-needles feeling I have in my head that is accompanied by a buzzing sound which I can only explain as being an odd sort of itch in my brain.” Officer Morgan seems interested now. I can tell that he’s trying to figure out whether I’m making this up or not. “I’ve had this itch in my head for as long as I can remember. Sometimes it takes over my thoughts and it’s the only thing I can focus on. The ease with which I am distracted by this itch reminds me of how pathetic and empty my life is. I have never been so enthralled or in love with anything enough to drown out the itch.” I look up and Officer Morgan gives a slight nod showing that yes, he understands what I’m saying. Then he impatiently looks up at the clock behind my head, my cue to continue talking.
“The habituality is just a natural part of my personality I suppose. I just like it when things are in order, I’ve never liked chaos.” Officer Morgan snorts at this; I just carry on. “Yes, well I guess it does seem ironic now. Anyways, I’ve always had an organized agenda for everything; I do laundry every Wednesday, go to hot yoga on Thursdays, I wake up at six everyday and go to bed at eleven just as regularly, I eat three meals a day at the same times everyday, and I go grocery shopping late every Thursday. I never stray from this time table. Now Officer, I suppose you have enough background information on my personality that is necessary to understand what happened.”
Officer Morgan sits up straight as Officer Berry comes back with a large coffee and a donut. Officer Morgan thanks Officer Berry and tells him to feel free to go home now. He starts drinking the coffee and slides the donut over for later. “You may begin telling me about the events of today now Gilbert,” says Officer Morgan. I start to explain my day.
“Since today is a Tuesday, I had to go to the supermarket to buy groceries. Now I don’t particularly like my usual supermarket, but I’ve been going there since I was a kid, with my mother. There was a certain cashier that I always had the displeasure to come upon when grocery shopping, that cashier was Rita.
Rita always gave me the dirtiest, judgemental look. It was a kind of look that suggested that Rita could tell how much ambition and feeling I lack, and that she had nothing but pity and contempt for me. She never even had to change her facial expression for me to tell that she felt this way, it was all in the eyes. Rita’s eyes were unnerving, and like the itch, a reminder of all of the nothing in my life. Sometimes I thought about doing terrible things to Rita, I would plan out killing her in my head all of the time.” Officer Morgan puts down his coffee and stares at me intently and curiously, different from the way Rita did. The way Officer Morgan is staring makes me seem interesting, like I am something worth studying and knowing. This is new and exciting. “In my head I would go to the supermarket late some Tuesday evening like usual, but once I left I would go back to my car and wait. I would wait for Rita to finish her shift and walk through the lonely parking lot to her car. I would walk silently towards her, taking painfully slow steps one after the other until I’m less than five feet away. As Rita unlocks her car, I would grab her from behind and put a strong hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming as she she struggles to escape me. Her eyes would be wide and alarmed instead of squinted and judging. I would slam Rita against her car and pin her there with my knee. Then I stop.”
Officer Morgan looks understandably confused now. “Officer Morgan, in my imagination, my sick fantasies, I never end up killing Rita. I had always known that the intention was there, but at that point I would come out of the imagination and back to the itch in my head. I always wanted to know what would happen next, but the itch would buzz away until it consumed again.”
“So you found out today?” asks Officer Morgan, fully awake again.
“Yes, well today when I got to the checkout, Rita was there. I usually ignore her, but today I just avoided looking at her so I wouldn’t have to see those eyes. I was almost clear too, until I got my debit card out. When I went to put it in, I accidentally caught a glimpse of her face, and it was the same as always. Rita gave me that demeaning look, and for some reason it hit me harder today than any other time before. Today Rita’s eyes stung, and gave me a feeling of something boiling up from the bottom of my stomach. I left the supermarket, put my bags in my car, and waited.”
“When Rita came out about thirty minutes later, I followed her to her car, as quietly and patiently as I did in all my imaginings before. When I was close enough behind her to see the parking lot lights shining off of the little hairs on the back of her neck. Then she went fishing around in her bag for her keys and that’s when I went to grab her, but I slipped. Instead of swiftly grabbing her, I got nervous and she was able to let out a short scream. I managed to get my clammy hands over her mouth, sloppily silencing her. Rita was scared, I could tell that she was scared. I could see her eyes the way I imagined them, large and glistening. This encouraged me, and incontrol again, I slammed her against the car and pinned her there with my knee in the centre of her back. Rita began breathing heavily and shaking, and I didn’t know what to do. At this point the buzzing would have kicked in, but I noticed that I couldn’t hear it at all.I just went with my gut.  I kicked the back of her knees until she buckled, and I kept one hand over her mouth as I positioned myself on top of her, one leg over either side of her body.” “You can stop there” Officer Morgan says quietly, we know how you killed her.” But this is my moment, the only time I’ve ever done anything real, this is my only story worth telling, and now he doesn’t want me to? “I’d rather continue, if you don’t mind Officer.” He nods. “ I grabbed her hair with my other hand and pulled her head up about a foot off of the ground, and then slammed it back into the asphalt.” Officer Morgan shakes his head, and I know that he really doesn’t want to hear it, I continue anyways. “It made a hard sound, somewhere between a crack and a thump, and then I lifted her head and did it again, and again, and again.”
“It didn’t take too long until her struggling beneath me stopped, and the hard crunches turned into soft, mushy slaps on the ground. Then Officer Morgan, I dismounted Rita’s body and lay down beside her to looked up at the sky. Lucky Rita, the last thing she saw was a sky full of stars. I gazed up at the stars for while with nothing in my head, no itch. At first I was confused by why the itch would leave right at that moment, why it gave me clarity when it could have distracted me from committing homicide. But that, Officer, is when I realized that I was experiencing  the feeling of passion and achievement, and all the excitement from what I had just done. I had nothing to distract me from it.”
“Well” starts Officer Morgan, “How do you feel about it now?”
“I feel like I am finally content with being uncontent.”
“Gilbert,considering you’ll be sentenced to life in prison, would you do it the same? If you could go back I mean?”
I think about this, and then answer Officer Morgan’s last question, “Yes, absolutely. As long as I am without that insufferable itch.” Officer Morgan sighed, sat up from the little aluminum table, and left.