Academy Murders: How?

In the wake of her confession, there still existed a gulf between Kim and freedom. She wanted to breathe, to taste liberty so much. She remained back in the cell. Silence screamed around her. There was no wonder that she kept wandering in her thoughts.

She remembered Tall K. She smirked at the fact he was still probably selling cocaine. She could care less. She laughed. It was a laugh of relief and an outburst of recognizing the ugliness of her situation. She guffawed at the fact she had to knock down another giant.

She did revel in the idea that the prosecution's lawyers were gnawing at vapors and dust. Her innocence overpowered the powdery stuff that Tall K was selling. Homicide in the first degree snd then it being tossed but another death tied to her name made her laugh. She didn’t laugh at the loss of life, just the ironic plight with which she found herself.

When she considered her predicament, she wondered whether blood would fall from the clouds and the sun would glaze over into a black hole. She just didn’t want to exact revenge against anyone. No humans. Not the system. She wanted to fight reality itself. She wanted to claw and dig out the eyes of realness for it being so heavy of a burden on her. And then she thought, no. She didn’t want to battle reality. She found it to be okay with her spirit to realize that reality is the showcase. It is a multi-billion-dollar production. It is the highest example of what is. The time and space aspects just contributed to the idealism that her laugh cracked at the end.

With the proximity of sheets and a towel close to her, she remembered the cleaning lady’s words. Such would have to happen for her to be freed in her own mind and not just from the cell. It was like a celestial storm occurring in her soul. She still chuckled even as the lighting splintered spiritual trees and the thunder rumbled. Still, she looked at her position as one with at least one leg unfettered. But her hands and one foot still had the shackles.

The thought of Tall K cooperating actually gave her a boost to her morale. Personally, she knew that real criminals, rapists, murderers, fraudsters and the like deserved to be walking on cement floors in shower shoes. They deserved to make widgets for less than the minimum wage.

She didn’t even mind her state of mind. From all around, her mind was like a snow globe and the thoughts were the swirling white specks. All of the times that a drug dealer had got knocked for selling something, for providing a good and service.

Now, of course it wasn’t the loftiest title to hold but the impetus behind their movements could be understandable. What could you do when you make five to ten times your teacher’s salary who just called you a weedhead and a waste of space?

But that was just it. She wasn’t laughing now. She thought about her own experiences as a detective. She even let go of some pushers on the block. To take into account the billions of dollars, the thousands of lives and all of the idealism around how mostly brown and black people found the penitentiary with football numbers, it made her bite her tongue. Some blood spurted from her mouth. A corner of the sheets soaked up the redness. Now, she laughed again. How could she not laugh at how ludicrous, ridiculous and vicious the whole game was? How?