text: It was just a normal night for me, eating pizza rolls and catching up to my favorite Youtubers when I finally decided to kill my father. The videos I watched had nothing to do with my resolution. I had been thinking of killing my dad for years. He had always been disappointed in me for not following in his athletic aspirations. To tell the truth, we had absolutely nothing in common. But now I needed money and, while we didn't along, I was the only family my well off dad had left. Surely, I'd inherit something. Plus, it wasn't like I had anything else going on in my life. I had been stagnating for far too long. After all, doesn't everyone need a hobby? While my commitment to murder was sudden, I wasn't going to impulsively fly off the handle and just shoot him. I had to remain free to enjoy whatever spoils I got. Besides, I enjoy mysteries. I thought it would be fun to craft the perfect murder. So, I researched. I found out that some of the hardest crimes to solve were those that started with random impulses. A lot of those do end up being caught because the lack of planning usually leaves lots of evidence behind and perpetrators who are quick to confess. But it's another story if the killer is lucky enough, or plans all along to target random people, and doesn't leave evidence behind. Cops also have trouble distinguishing between copycat killers so I started paying attention to the local news and police blotters. I knew I would also need an airtight alibi. The police would be quick to suspect a family member and I didn't want to get caught just because some dumb cop just assumed it was me and worked backwards from there. To that end, I started streaming videos of me playing games. I made sure to only play older games with absolutely no commentary nor have any over the top reactions to the action on screen. That and the fact I did no advertising kept my viewership practically non-existent. Fine by me. I needed as few variables as possible. I streamed like this for 2 months before fate gave me what I wanted. I read about two very similar murders that happened relatively nearby. Both victims had their back doors broken into. Both had been killed by slit throats with their own kitchen knives. Not a lot of evidence was left and the attacks seemed completely random. This was the best news I'd had in quite some time! Police were still unsure if those cases were connected but I wondered if they'd admit to a potential serial killer if a third body popped up. All I had to do was recreate those scenes but leave no DNA evidence behind. Then, all they would have to go on is the evidence already gathered that wouldn't point in my direction. I made sure a pre-recorded video of me playing games was being streamed as though I were live. That gave me 3 hours to do the deed so I immediately rushed over to my dad's house. Luckily, I rarely went over there so no neighbors would recognize me or my car. My dad was surprised to see me but I told him that I had big, good news. I sat him down in his armchair facing away from the kitchen and then told him I needed a drink to calm my nerves. The fool didn't suspect a thing. I had kept my gloved hands hidden in my hoodie pockets but he didn't notice. I was able to waltz right over to his kitchen knife holder and draw the cleaver. I even put on a hair net to make sure I left no evidence. I was shaking with excitement as I walked back. My gloved hand went over my father's forehead and pulled his head back, exposing the neck. My dad didn't even say a word. He was probably confused but expecting an explanation. Instead, I slid the blade across his neck and cut deeply. I dropped the blade on the floor and spent the rest of my strength on pushing my father's shoulders forward and down. This made him unable to get up and all of that gushing blood flowed away from me. Very quickly, his attempts to get up and to talk stopped and I just stood there until every last drop of blood stopped spurting out. I carefully wound my father's watch so it read 3 hours later and then smashed it with the butt of the knife before dropping it for the last time. Then, I popped outside the back door, only to break in again. I left through the front and locked the door with my own key. Finally, I drove home. The only emotion I felt was smug satisfaction. I made sure to swap out the fake streaming footage with the real deal but this time I apologized to my 1 viewer and promised I would interact with the chat more. And I so for the rest of the night. Especially around the time I had wound my father's watch to. At that time, i made sure to comment on every single thing going on in the chat. The police came the next day. Actually, they came twice. First in the morning to tell me that my father had passed away. And then, 2 detectives came to ask me a hundred follow up questions. I'm not a great actor so I told them the truth, that there was no love lost between my father and I. But before they could speculate further, I showed them the online recordings of my whereabouts. As expected, they were most interested with the times I was the most active. It was like playing chess with someone who only knew checkers. Just to be sure, I 'accidentally' dropped a newspaper to the ground and picked up while pretending to read, as though it were the first time, the article about the other two killings. I wondered out loud if all three murders were connected. This was my one mistake but just a little one. They were immediately suspicious as to why I had a newspaper around, being as young as I was. The truth was so I could look up crimes to copycat without leaving a trail in my computer's search history. But I told them it was a rare purchase, just because I had been nostalgic for the comics. They seemed to buy that but the next day I had another visit. This time from a senior detective that I hadn't seen before. He asked again for my alibi and more information about my dad. When it seemed like we might be done, he suddenly produced a warrant and had a couple uniformed officer's take my computer. Detective Howard Phillip had me sit down in my own armchair in front of him as he explained, "You aren't under arrest. Not yet. But I wouldn't go anywhere if I were you. Just to make sure, those two officers are going to stick around in a car just outside. I know you killed your father." I tried to protest as I rose but he just gave me a hard stare as he raised his hand out and then lowered it slowly. I sat back down in response. He continued, "Coroners are pretty precise these days. Precise enough that we pretty much only listen to them now and don't put much stock in what a smashed watch says." I tried my best to look confused as the detective paced in front of me. He spoke confidently, "My boys are going to pour over every bit of data and we'll figure out exactly what you did to fake the footage. That will be enough for me to come back with handcuffs. You think you're pretty smart, don't you?" I did but I ignored his question and tried to sound just as confident as I asked, "What are you going on about? Did you find new evidence? I promise you that there is no possible way you could link me to the crime scene because I didn-" Detective Howard Phillip interrupted with a loud, strong command, "ENOUGH! I do not like having to play nice with murderers. We'll respect your rights but you are living on borrowed time. You're also right. There isn't a shred of evidence that puts you at the scene of the crime." He turned to me and remained motionless through the rest of his speech. He just stared right into my eyes as he said, "But you messed up when you hypothesized this might be the work of another local killer. When I heard that, that's the exact moment I knew for sure you were the killer. You see, people with a strong motive try to hide their crimes by copying another criminal. It happens enough that we cops look out for that. But it can be hard to prove. Except in your father's case. We quickly ruled out that other killer's involvement and you've been our number one suspect from hour one. You see, we already had fingerprints and hair from the other killer. Yesterday, we finally found whose prints they belonged to. Your father." The detective ranted some more but I didn't hear any more of it. I also didn't move, not even when the cops left. The rest of the day flew by in a blur and I still remained sitting in that chair. Nothing else matters any more. They'll be back tomorrow but I have no intention of leaving alive. In fact, all I'm planning on now is how I can leave them the biggest mess to clean up instead. The worst part of it all is the thought that keeps running through my head. I guess my father and I aren't as different as I thought.