I drove in silence, except for the occasional thump from the back seat. Every once in awhile, I'd hit a bump in the road, and hear the garbage bag jump behind me. The sound was satisfying.

Before long, I pulled into my driveway.

Home sweet home.

The sky was still dark, but streaks were starting to ombre down to the tips above the trees. A pale blue illuminated the treetops like a flickering candle, and I knew that I only had a few more hours before the sun rose. I quickly got to work.

I hopped out of the truck, my steel toe boots pounding into the gravel beneath me. I opened the back door to my truck and grabbed the heavy trash bag. A pool of fresh blood stained the carpet. I groaned. It must have leaked from the bag. Great, another mess to clean up before tomorrow. I slammed the door shut.

I brought the bag over to a fresh patch of grass in my large yard. I lived all alone, in the middle of nowhere. I wasn't worried about anyone seeing me.

No one ever saw me.

Then I hurried to my garage to grab a shovel.

I did this every time. I picked out a perfect little circle in my yard and dug a hole, not too deep, but deep enough. It never took me too long. I always buried the bodies of the people I killed, but I did it for a reason. I'm not crazy. Everything I did was for a reason. They think they can just walk all over me like I'm a doormat; they can't. And now? I was walking on them.

I stomped my boot down, hard on the ground.

"How does that feel?"

An hour went by, or at least it seemed like one. I hadn't ever bothered to look at my watch. I plopped down on the lush grass and stared at the hole that I'd dug. I wiped my hand across my forehead. Beads of sweat slid down my cheeks. Now for the fun part.

I opened the garbage bag and slowly pulled out each limb, examining every little imperfection. Then I threw it into the hole. My mouth turned upwards when I heard the sound it made as it hit the dirt.

Thump.

I laughed at the pure irony; they treated me like dirt, now they're buried in the dirt.

Finally, after I'd chucked the boy's torso into the hole, it was time for the head. I always saved the head for last. It was the part that hurt me the most. It was what distinguished each and every kid from the next. I grabbed it in my hands and stared into the cold, blue eyes. Then I threw it in with the rest of the body, as hard as I could.

...