Hypothetically

Hypothetically... *looks around furtively*.... and I mean hypothetically, if I were a serial killer, I'd be just as I am... except I'd be a serial killer.

After all, nobody expects the wide eyed teenage girl who is always stuck in books to be truly present, much less kill real people. Then again, nobody checks to make sure I've actually read them either. You wouldn't know that they could read English. Or were ever teenagers. I mean honestly, do they really think I want to read an entire book about other stupid teenagers who do stupid things like falling in love? Goodness.

And getting out? No biggie. It's not hard to hang out with friends that don't exist. Who needs to sneak out of windows? Lame. And then, after the deed is done, just waltz up to your room and BAM! Alibi. Because nobody really remembers where I was, nobody really cares. And I've been working on that butt load of homework, hmm? Well, naturally it's hard work being a serial killer. I've got to work my hand off at school copying answers all lunch. What a fantastic student.

Not to mention my murder weapons. Ha! They're lying right under their noses. Papa, I'm so sorry. I was showing your gun to a guy friend and forgot to give it back. At most, a small scolding and a pat on my head. Oh, Ms. Rainsfield? Mind if I use the chemistry lab after school? It doesn't hurt to bat an eyelash or two with her either. An unlimited supply of super strong acid in the clutches of a teenage who may or may not be alone in the AP Chem classroom? What could go wrong? *bats eyelashes*

Why become a serial killer? Well first off, paid target practice with the gun! Blowing up heads is pretty cool, especially if you weren't particularly fond of them. The poison is for jobs I might possibly feel guilty about in the long run. Leave it up to providence then. After all, I'm not making them drink that cup of water on the nightstand. Then again, fate's pretty cruel too.

Besides, the black market pays well. College? Bah, I don't need to go to some stuck up school to make a decent living. I'd rather not put myself under that ginormous pile of debt only to have to live under it. Might as well sell yourself in to slavery. Me? Once I make enough dough I'm going to see the world.

Live life. Survival of the fittest, you know. Who says you have to live by society's rules? Not me, no siree.

But you know. It's not like I have it planned out or anything. I'm just one teenage girl who is so stressed by her exams she's always breaking out. Such a brilliant student, a bookworm as well! She's got her head in the clouds, couldn't have done this. Besides, there's no murder weapon. Because, y'know. This is all hypothetical.

By the way, there's a glass on my nightstand. Thirsty?