You'd Look Better as a Ghost

by Joanna Wallace

“Don’t worry, I’m not a serial killer.” Returning the smile, I get in the car and wonder how many serial killers in the history of serial killing have used that line. I might try it.

Helen asks whether I want anything to eat. A slice of chocolate cake. That’s what I really want. But I’m mindful of the fact that I killed this woman’s sister fairly recently and the cake is ridiculously overpriced.

I sit perfectly still and watch her in silence. Stillness and silence. The most underrated weapons in any given armory. People will do anything to avoid the discomfort created by stillness and silence.

She’s looking at me. Is she expecting a response? Does she think I care?

The problem is I stopped listening as soon as he became boring,

“Why don’t you ever shut the fuck up?” asks Frank, verbalizing my exact thought.

I wonder whether I’m experiencing empathy. And if so, I wonder why it’s chosen this moment to arrive.

What is this acne-covered baby thug going to say to me?

“And?” she says, sounding confused. “That’s it? You killed him for that?”

turned towards them and said, ‘Excuse me, kidnapping bitch. Would you mind changing the channel back to Bargain Hunt. I was enjoying it immensely.’

I couldn’t believe it. A real-life serial killer coming to visit. And there was me, worried I was going to be bored.