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      𝐲𝐨𝐮  𝐚𝐫𝐞  𝐧𝐨𝐭  𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐭𝐨  𝐛𝐞  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧  𝐢  𝐠𝐨  𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧.   but this?  this is a major headache waiting to happen.  this is something i’m going to have to deal with.  sooner,  rather than later,  judging by the way you’re looking at me.  i’m not a bad guy.  you’ve got me all wrong,  detective   —   i’m an upstanding,  straight - edge guy.  you run my name,  and you won’t even find an unpaid parking ticket in my closet of skeletons. 

i guess that kind of thing takes precedent when there are quite real skeletons.  or,  in benji’s case,  a big,  come - to - jesus bonfire where all my problems went away with the scent of burning flesh.  gotta love the great woods in the city,  right?  now,  don’t get me wrong  —  i feel like you’ve got a preconceived version of the moody,  possessive boyfriend you think i was to beck.  i don’t like killing people.  who the fuck does?!   —   benji made me go vegetarian for a week,  until i stopped smelling putrid meat in the back of mooney’s buick.  and beck…  well,  you know i had to do it.

            — but i’ve seen enough rom - coms to know that this kind of thing happens to the protagonist all the time;  someone tries to get in the way of him and his love,  but that’s the thing about these stories.  love conquers all.  (but you…  you,  detective,  are going to be a pain in my fucking ass.  you’ve got to go.  before you find something that ties me to any of this.)

i’m sorry.  no,  really.  i am.  i’m sorry it’s going to come to this,  stella.  i am.  but i’m not going down for the things i did for love…  so i’m going to have to go back to it.  old school.  i’ll start with google,  as soon as i get the fuck out of this one.

                      “—  i’m sorry?”     the store’s too crowded to make any move right now.  the mallet’s downstairs  —  my head still throbs,  sometimes,  but i’ve wiped the rest of her blood from it and i’ve learned a whole bunch since beck;  you’d be amazed what bleach can do to biological evidence.

      “i wouldn’t hurt her.  i loved her.  how can i help?  —  dna,  evidence,  anything.  i want to help.”

go downstairs,  detective.  you’ll see what i mean   —   i’ve always been a sucker for love,  but there’s really nothing to see except a controlled environment and a few dozen rare books.  my apartment’s swept clean  —  benji’s teeth have long since been removed,  and beck’s underwear  —   well.  i’ll be honest with you.  those were the hardest to part with.