7.4.09. The fourth of July.
Seven thousand women, men, and children gathered at Lakeshore park to watch the fireworks display. Seven thousand people with their own troubles, their own lives, their own joys and pains. Seven thousand people who were all fully comfortable ignoring the fact that possibly half a mile away from the fireworks display watching site, was a mental institution. What all these people did not know, was that Stephen Murphy had just escaped from his ward. His mental injury: pure, uncontrolled insanity. He had committed 49 murders, to date.
"Dr. Andrews, he isn't in his room!" a frantic nurse screamed to a tired, exasperated looking man in probably his mid 30's. "We've looked for him everywhere...if he escaped on a night like this it could mean disaster!" she blurted, then hurried off to look in other places that had already been checked. the doctor stared out the window. His wife and two twin sons were out there, about to watch a beautifully designed fireworks display, and he had to search for a psychopath. He checked in Molly Hughes's room, a teen girl who was a suicidal case, and saw that she was trying to break her window again.
"Molly!" he yelled, and she stopped, staring at him with her freakish, big, yellow eyes. "For the final time, that window is reinforced. You cant break it. Calm down," he tried to reassure her that she was okay just as she just started screaming something.
"Doctor! Fire!" She screamed horrifically. "He's going to...kill them! Make him kill me doctor! I want to be dead! I deserve it! I've been good! How come they get to die!" Molly screamed over and over, out of breath. The Doctor stopped. Fire! He's going to kill them! Molly had seen Stephen leave!
"Molly! Molly! Calm down, girl... Breathe..." He soothed her into a calmer state and got her to go to sleep, then sprinted out the door to the break room. His assistant, Dr. Parr, was in there drinking her third cup of tea for the day. She was on the night shift of watching the severe cases, as was he. Unfortunatley, she suffered with insomnia. She was always exhausted, but she could not sleep. He quickly informedher on the situation and she offered to look after the ward while he went to look for Stephen, which he accepted with thanks. He marched out the institute doors and breathed in the fresh scent from the fresh grass and the lake nearby. He took off at a brisk walk down to where all the people were gathered. Out of the seven thousand souls, he had a little trouble picking out his wife and children. Eventually, he found them. His wife, a serene-looking 37 year old with chocolate brown, smooth hair and pale pretty skin named Anna, hugged him hello.
"Hello, dear. Why are you here? I thought you had to work all night."
"Anna, listen, I want you to go home, one of the patients is loose, the killer one. Stephen Murphy. Take the boys home and lock the doors."
"Honey, honestly. There are so many people here! It's impossible to kill all of them. We'll be careful."
He caved in and let them stay, but kept an eye out. Soon, the sun was fully set, and the loudpeakers boomed, 'five minuites until the display, five minuites!' and there was a great rush to the field where everyone sat. The show started, and everyone watched in awe, but no one noticed the skinny man standing at the edge of the lake. No one noticed his lopsided smile. No one noticed the rusted bush trimmer in his hands. And definitley no one noticed that the trimmer was dripping in blood. Stephen Murphy had just brought his total to 51.
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