The Killer Inside His Head by M.J. Burton

Author:M.J. Burton [Burton, M.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

THE DANGER WITHIN

It’s a late Friday evening, and Carson Parker, a young man in his mid-30s, is finally arriving home. His night out with friends involved a fair amount of drinking and socializing, typical for Carson on a Friday. His designated driver and buddy, Rex, is at the wheel, trying to locate Carson’s house in the quiet residential neighborhood of Lakepoint Drive. The houses, with their uniform appearances, make it a bit challenging for Rex.

Carson, his eyes still somewhat glazed from the night’s activities, spots his house and can’t contain his excitement. “Ah, there it is!” he exclaims suddenly, reaching forward from the back seat to pat Rex on the shoulder.

He clumsily exits the car, swaying as he makes his way to the front door. Rex, well aware of his friend’s condition, patiently waits to ensure Carson safely enters his house.

“Do you need any help?” Rex asks, watching Carson struggle with his keys.

“You ain’t... you’d... uh, I don’t need no help gettin’ into my own house!” Carson booms, his speech slightly slurred and his bravado in full swing. “You ain’t... You ain’t need to wait... uh, just go, man. I got this.”

Rex can’t help but chuckle at Carson’s intoxicated antics. He starts to open his car door, ready to assist Carson if needed, just as the front door creaks open.

“You see, man? I don’t need no help from nobody,” Carson declares proudly, though his unsteady gait tells a different story. He steps inside and promptly closes the door behind him, leaving Rex outside.

Inside his home, Carson squints at the pictures he took during the night, attempting to bring some semblance of clarity to his blurry memories. “Man,” he mumbles to himself, “that girl sure was a looker. I’m gonna give her a call to... BUUUURRRRRRRRRP... come on over here and keep me company.”

In the dimly lit living room, Carson’s voice echoes, the room filled with the scent of alcohol and the faint sounds of his erratic breathing. He stumbles towards the coffee table, where his phone rests beside a half-empty bottle of whiskey.

With unsteady hands, he grabs his phone, squinting at the bright screen. His fingers fumble as he attempts to find the number he’s looking for. The room seems to sway around him as he tries to focus on the task at hand.

Carson seems oblivious to the eerie presence lurking in his own kitchen. His intoxication has encased him in a haze of blissful ignorance. He carelessly drops his jacket on the couch and fumbles with his phone, his finger swiping absentmindedly across the screen as he scrolls through his contacts, a grin playing on his lips.

After about ten seconds of swiping, he suddenly bursts into a fit of laughter, the sound echoing strangely in the dimly lit room. “How’m I s’posed to call that tasty little treat, burrrp,” he slurs to himself, hiccupping and belching in between words, “if I don’t even know her name?”

In this alcohol-induced reverie, Carson ambles forward into the adjacent kitchen. His movements are guided more by determination than coordination.

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